Seeing the Can in Can't

Amongst the many ideas present in this week’s readings I was especially drawn to many of the ideas present in Rogoff’s ‘turning’ paper in Curating and the Educational Turn.  One in particular resonated with me; the concept of can and can’t.  Rogoff’s idea that endless possibility is present in all of us is tempered by his belief that for every can there is attached to it a can’t.  He goes on to suggest that this inevitable fallibility should be seen, not as a failing, but as a different/other form of understanding; one that is not reductive, but productive.  Here Rogoff is presenting fallibility as a counterpoint to other ways of understanding that, collectively, form our way of being in the world.

This philosophy towards what knowledge is and isn’t important plays a huge role in the way curriculum is developed.  The term ‘teaching to the test’ is something often used to criticize the state of modern curricula, which is often focused on black and white Quantitative assessment of student’s knowledge. We are beginning to see a turn in modern education to the ideas expressed above, but issues surrounding assessment and measurement of student growth will surly surround any future development.  

I wonder if we will ever see the can’t as something other than failure?  Keeping to the theme of journeys I see can’t as another path, one that is often not given the credit it might deserve. After all, can the can’t be seen as just a different route to a similar understanding?

A Turn to Educational Tourism

After reading Dave Beech's chapter in Curating and the Educational Turn I was left questioning the idea of knowledge and interpretation in regards to Taylorism. Beech's comment that the artist can become 'a critical escort through history, politics and place' is at odds with the belief that art is infinitely interpretable, with no set definition.

Referring to the viewer as a 'tourist' is also troubling. A tourists could never hope to understand the landscape, culture or language of a place in the same way a native would; and if the artist/curator/teacher has become akin to a tour guide, how are they deciding on the route/emphasis of the tour.

From a personal perspective, this kind of 'art tourism' has been common in much of my teaching practice. I never questioned whether this was in anyway wrong, it was how I was expected to proceed in all of the schools I have taught in, but on reflection I am forced to question where my 'tours' took the students during classes? By planning a route, what areas did I miss? What encounters were missed from following a set path of learning?

The idea of the artist/curator/teacher as guide also raises questions about the currency of knowledge. Again, if the tourist is being led through the process of understanding then we are promoting the idea that there is a correct way to understand, therefore eliminating the scope for alternative interpretations. This gives power to the intellectual elite, and removes it from the general public, thus narrowing the range of interpretations and limiting the chance of a more spontaneous 'art encounter'.

Sat, Jan 14th

For EDCP 504A -Review of Research in Art and Education- we have been tasked with keeping a note book that details our progress through course. The journal will be a documentation of my thinking process and the evolution of my ideas, allowing me to better examine thoughts and ideas I collect through the course more clearly. So, how better to begin this process that by looking in detail at the very beginning. Nothing should go unnoticed, and on reflection, even the purchasing of this journal held information that may have gone unnoticed without a moment of reflection.

After half and hour of browsing the selection on offer at Staples -other stationary stores are available- I picked out a notebook that, to be honest, was a little pretentious. But I liked its foe leather and suggestion of academic worth. Next, I spent time looking for a pen that I thought would give my writing that certain jenesequa, finally settling on a calligraphy pen. Back at my desk I began to go over this process, which at first could have been seen as a throw-away action; simply myself going through the motions. However, I have come to believe that no action is made in isolation, and that even the most simple of activities holds valuable information for those willing to invest the time to investigate properly. For example, why did I choose the journal I did? As I began to ask this question to myself, I started to realise that I was, in fact, trying to compensate for something. The book had to look academic, important, authoritative. Why? Well, I think that, in some way, I was tyring to address the inadequacy of what I felt would eventually be written inside it. My fixation with the pen I would use was also trying to compensate. If the writing was pretty, then maybe they won't notice that my idea aren't very good.

Are my fears founded? Possibly not. I have a tendency to be overly self critical and my glass is typically half empty. But, if the process of simply buying the journal can lead to this kind of personal insight, then I'm certainly -and quite uncharacteristically- optimistic about my ongoing journey with this new companion.