exhausted academies

a critique of the ‘exhausting’ achievement-oriented and instrumentalised tendencies of the contemporary neoliberal institution, and a return to a ‘verticalist’ perspective that ‘makes space’ for attention and concentration; for experiment, novel questions and speculation; for reflexivity, new modes of imagination and historic profundity; for an open-ended form of differential thinking that values not-knowing, the singular, the affective, the transgressive, and the unforeseen.

– http://not-yet-there.blogspot.com/2016/11/event-exhausted-academies.html

 Exhausted Academies
Fine Art Studio
Nottingham Trent University
Thursday 3 November, 2pm to 5pm

artistic doctorates in europe

Last Tuesday (25 October 2016) I went to an open conversation about practice-as-research at Middlesex University called Artistic Doctorates in Europe – Current issues and Practices. It was the first in a number of meetings as part of a project led by Vida Midgelow (Middlesex, UK), Jane Bacon (Chichester, UK), Leena Rouhiainen (University of the Arts, Helsinki, Finland) and Camilla Damkjaer (Stockholm University of the Arts, Sweden) in partnership with four professional arts organisations: Dance4 (United Kingdom), Kiasma Theatre – Museum of Contemporary Arts and Zodiak Centre for New Dance (Finland) and WELD (Sweden). The group has some Erasmus+ European funding to investigate issues related to practice-as-research doctorates, and in particular related to students working in and through somatic and dance practices.

Here’s a list of some things I felt were important as I listened:

  1. Documentation: sense of duty to both the artist-researcher and the field in considering the nature of practices of documentation. That is, how might the work persist through time?
  2. Epistemology: The vexed question of the epistemological value of practice-as-research seems to be (at least in my eyes) its least considered and understood aspect. There remains a great deal of work to be done that ensures we don’t fall into epistemological traps to do with knowledge generation.
  3. Resources: there remain no clear ways for PhD students to fund the development and production of their practices. This means that practice-as-research tends to produce small-scale and often solo practices. At the same time, it’s worth remembering practice-as-research PhDs provide that most precious of commodity for artists: time.
  4. Communication and policy: As practice-as-research is increasingly established in University systems (including at undergraduate and graduate levels), its senior practitioners have a duty of care to find ways to communicate the principles and values of practice-as-research beyond the field, and to look for ways to help develop policy that (at the very least) makes sense to alternative ways of knowing and understanding the world, and supports more open pedagogical values and systems (across higher education).
  5. Supervision: PhD students are increasingly entering highly regulated systems (they might be called sausage factories) in which they are on the receiving end of protocols that inhibit –rather than support – their development as scholars. Last night it was mentioned that we have forgotten that PhDs are a pedagogical and dialogic exchange between students and supervisors. Our systems need to reflect the openness (and scholarly vitality) of this exchange.

A lot more was discussed and presented, and I’ll post bits and pieces (including resources) over the coming weeks. I’ll also post the ADIE website when it’s live. Stay tuned.


Explorers, the historian Aaron Sachs wrote me in answer to a question, ’were always lost, because they’d never been to these places before. They never expected to know exactly where they were. Yet, at the same time, many of them knew their instruments pretty well and understood their trajectories within a reasonable degree of accuracy. In my opinion, their most important skill was simply a sense of optimism about surviving and finding their way.’[1]

Research of all kinds inevitably involves some kind of organisation to make sense of being lost, even if the focus of one’s research is systems or states of disorganisation. Not surprisingly, and like other research forms, it is common in practice-as-research to work with mapping processes and metaphors to help navigate materials, processes, ideas, and possibilities. We want to know how and where to place our work in relation to others, and mapping as a metaphor seems like a useful tool for us to find our work. See for example Performance Research: On Maps and Mapping from 2001.

Cartographers call the process whereby the world is reduced to a map, or a complex map reduced to a simpler map, cartographic generalization

As a representation of objects in space, any geographical map can be generalized in a number of different ways. We could take a detailed map of San Francisco and generalize it into a map showing only the subway lines, or only the railroads, or only the public streets and nothing else. Similarly, any given representation of events in time, such as an evolutionary tree, can also be generalized in a number of different ways (O’Hara, 1993). And just as different generalizations of a map may give the viewer different senses of a particular territory—one that showed all the parks might give a different impression from one that showed only highways and railroad tracks (Monmonier, 1991)—so also different generalizations of a detailed sequence of events in time may give the viewer different senses of what took place within a particular temporal space. Different generalizations of the history of life, for example, may give the impression that evolution is either directed or diversifying (O’Hara, 1992, 1993). [2]

We have temporal mapping, mind-mapping, and all types of data visualisation techniques that rely to a greater or lesser extent on geometric locations in space. It seems we are destined to fall into spatial metaphors and they are oh so seductive.

Yet, what other ways or metaphors are there to conceive of — and organise — our work in relationship to the work of others? If it is next to, within, amongst, around, etc, then we are spatially connected to others. And what possibilities might an alternate kind of being-in-relation afford us as artist-scholars seeking to understand the work we do in dialogue with others?

  1. Solnit, Rebecca. 2010. A Field Guide to Getting Lost. Canongate Books, p.13  ↩
  2. http://rjohara.net/cv/1996-cas  ↩


It’s easy to undervalue the role of intuition in research processes. Perhaps though in practice-as-research it is more common for people to work with their intuitive thoughts and actions in ways that are difficult to substantiate or justify. After all, it’s a creative process right?

Here’s Tim Ingold on intuition as a form of knowledge:

In his recent study of reindeer herders and hunters of the Taimyr region of northern Siberia, David Anderson (2000: 116–17) writes that in their relations with animals and other components of the environment, these people operate with a sentient ecology. This notion perfectly captures the kind of knowledge people have of their environments that I have been trying to convey. It is knowledge not of a formal, authorised kind, transmissible in contexts outside those of its practical application. On the contrary, it is based in feeling, consisting in the skills, sensitivities and orientations that have developed through long experience of conducting one’s life in a particular environment. This is the kind of knowledge that Janáček claimed to draw from attending to the melodic inflections of speech; hunters draw it from similarly close attention to the movements, sounds and gestures of animals.

Another word for this kind of sensitivity and responsiveness is intuition. In the tradition of Western thought and science, intuition has had a pretty bad press: compared with the products of the rational intellect, it has been widely regarded as knowledge of an inferior kind. Yet it is knowledge we all have; indeed we use it all the time as we go about our everyday tasks (Dreyfus and Dreyfus 1986: 29). What is more, it constitutes a necessary foundation for any system of science or ethics.

Intuitive understanding, in short, is not contrary to science or ethics, nor does it appeal to instinct rather than reason, or to supposedly ‘hardwired’ imperatives of human nature. On the contrary, it rests in perceptual skills that emerge, for each and every being, through a process of development in a historically specific environment.

– Tim Ingold, 2000. The Perception of the Environment. London: Routledge, p.25

It falls on us as practice-researchers to keep searching for ways to be critical of one’s own thinking and practices (including the intuitive aspects), and to adopt some kind of balance between doubt and intuition.

future practice research blog

Blog about practiceresearch:


Here’s a sample:

Firstly, that I was not alone in wanting to move on from the defensive positions cultivated over the last 20 years. The proposal to focus on the future chimed with my own belief that the argument that ‘practice matters’ had been won (at least administratively). Secondly, the move away from the micro-politics of practice as/through/based/led was particularly welcome. I am therefore an out and out convert. ‘Practice Research’ works for me. It focuses on the wider issues related to how researchers share, apply and critique knowledge borne of practice.

— Rachel Hann, https://futurepracticeresearch.org/2015/07/28/practice-matters-arguments-for-a-second-wave-of-practice-research/