Drawing and Representing

The other day a colleague sent me the following quote from Emma Dexter’s Introduction to “Vitamin D New Perspectives in Drawing”:

“Drawing is everywhere. We are surrounded by it,  it is sewn into the warp and weft of our lives: we practice it as one of our earliest experiences as schoolchildren, and as parents we treasure the drawings made by our offspring like nothing else. People draw everywhere in the world; drawing can even be used as a global visual language when verbal communication fails. As adults we use it pragmatically to sketch our own maps and plans, but we also use it to dream  in doodles and scribbles. We use drawing to denote ourselves, our existence within a scene; in the urban context, for example, graffiti acts as a form of drawing within an expanded field. Indeed, drawing is part of our interrelation to our physical environment, recording in and on it, the presence of the human. It is the means by which we can understand and map, decipher, and come to terms with our surroundings as we leave marks, tracks, or shadows to mark our passing. Footprints, in the snow, breath on the window, vapor trails of a plane across the sky, lines traced by a finger in the sand  we literally draw in and on the material world. Drawing is part of what it means to be human…”

My colleague is considering using this quote as part of a drawing project and asked my opinion of it. I responded by saying (perhaps a little cantankerously) that:

“the quote rests on an unspoken but questionable division between drawing on one hand and representing on the other. I'd suggest that it is actually representing that Dexter is speaking of, not just drawing. And by that I mean the full range of media from static 2D media through  film, to audio, performance and poetry etc. Drawing is a medium. It just so happens that it is also common to a number of - but by no means all - processes that are used by artists. Representing, on the other hand is used, not just by artists, but by everyone.”

In the arts we have inherited divisions between media that have dominated the teaching and conceptualisation of art for centuries and, sadly, in the process we have also inherited much of the hierarchical thinking that accompanies them. The fact that drawing has been seen to have a subsidiary role to other disciplines like sculpture, painting and printmaking is because drawing was long considered to be a fundamental skill or core activity and was consequently not recognised as the medium that it very definitely is.

“Drawing is the primal means of symbolic communication, which predates and embraces writing and functions as a tool of conceptualization parallel with language.” Deanna Petherbridge, “The Primacy of Drawing”

No doubt the expediency of drawing has also led to its relegation amongst its more ‘noble’ peers, since the disciplines of Painting, Sculpture and Printmaking are often far more labour intensive in their manufacture, and skilled labour – especially resolute skilled labour - is often highly valued.

The reason it is so vital to recognise drawing as a medium equivalent to sculpture or printmaking etc. is because in this way we can better appreciate what happens when it is taught as a core activity. By doing so - by taking a medium and teaching it as if it were a fundamental skill - we actually reinforce the doctrine of drawing as a subsidiary process whilst also obscuring its position as one of any number of tools that comprise the wider set of practices that we might call Representation. If we teach drawing in this way then it makes little sense to exclude other equally important skills like modelling, photography, moving-image making or even gesture, song, music, dance, writing etc.

Let me be clear though. I am not advocating the dilution of art education to a smorgasbord of very different and often incompatible processes (try making sculpture out of song) but rather I'm trying to show that drawing is no more a core skill than photography is. Core to what? Core to representing? Not even nearly.

Representing (verb) unlike drawing, painting and sculpture (noun?) etc. is not a medium. Representing is what we do with media. Representing encapsulates all forms of communication and it is representing , not drawing, that is the primal means of  communication, which predates and embraces writing, language, drawing, painting, photography etc. and functions as a set of tools and processes of conceptualization without parallel.

There are two reasons why we might want to give increased attention to drawing in the teaching of art. Firstly, drawing is comparatively difficult to master and secondly (and, I would argue, much more importantly) it slows down the process of observation and can lead to greater sensitisation to its own processes, to the subject at hand and by extension to the work of other artists. I’m all for that. But let’s not forget what drawing is. Drawing is a medium, and like any other medium it can be used to compliment, underpin, resolve and contradict other media and like all other media it is just one tool amongst many that allow us to create representations. Representing is not just part of what it means to be human, it is perhaps the very essence of what it means to be human.

Discriminating Attractiveness (Part III)

Physical appearances are largely predetermined by our genes and are therefore very difficult to change, which is why judgements based upon them are often so disagreeable. Behaviour on the other hand is widely regarded as being malleable and we are therefore far less wary about making judgements based upon the actions and dispositions of others. Indeed it is still socially acceptable to treat people preferentially based upon their behaviour. If someone isn’t likeable, honest or attentive then why should we treat them equally? More to the point, how could we possibly avoid being unconsciously prejudiced against unlikeable, dishonest or inattentive behaviours? Surely it is the anti-social and the badly behaved who should adjust their behaviour, not the rest of us?

As with hairstyles, clothing or many other cosmetic alterations to physical appearances, behavioural traits can often be adjusted without influencing the personality or character of the individual. But might it be argued that there are many that cannot; personality traits that are more like our bone structure or the colour of our skin? If so then how might we distinguish between those that are fixed and those that are malleable? Moreover, if we expect people to change their behaviour, how sure can we be that they have any control over the traits that we find objectionable? And if they don’t then is it any more justified to judge someone on the basis of their personality traits than it is to judge them on the colour of their skin?

In the previously cited paper by Nalini Ambady and colleagues they mention that: “all attempts to train teachers, for instance, in nonverbal behavioural skills have met with marginal success.” They speculate that more highly rated teachers most likely have an increased ability to communicate using non-verbal cues (though they make no mention of what these cues might be). If it is possible to recognise the qualities of an effective teacher in as little as 2 seconds then there must be something appreciable at work that expresses itself in almost every particle of their behaviour. Whether this is a singular quality or a constellation of subtle cues is as yet unclear, but if effective teaching is the result of the use of such behavioural cues then the question arises whether it is possible to acquire them or – more crucially - whether the attempt to do so would be the behavioural equivalent of trying to acquire someone’s genetically inherited bone structure?

Despite the combined insights of more than a century of educational research there is still a great deal to be settled about what makes a good teacher. But if it turns out that the defining traits of the best teachers are impossible to acquire other than by genetic inheritance and early psycho-social development then the repercussions would seem to be profound, if only for teacher training. But, if certain behavioural traits are as immutable as physical appearances then we might justifiably question the degree to which certain behaviours are discriminated against, not just in higher education but within society as a whole.

Discriminating Attractiveness (Part II)

In 1989 Stephen Buck and Drew Tiene undertook a study of student evaluations of expected teacher effectiveness made on the basis of photographs. In addition to the photographic images Buck and Teine also provided printed descriptions of the “teaching philosophies” of the pictured teachers in terms of  authoritarianism or humanism. In contrast to earlier studies where only photographs were used Buck and Tiene discovered that in this instance the physical appearances of the teachers made no difference to the evaluations made. Buck and Tiene concluded that: “Attractiveness by itself was not found to have an effect on any of the ratings of teacher effectiveness.”

On the face of it this is very reassuring because it suggests that the physiognomies of teachers play an insignificant role in perceptions of their potential to teach when compared with other factors. However, it could be argued that the underlying assumption - that appearances are the only gauge of attractiveness - is fundamentally mistaken. Someone’s teaching-philosophy is by no means a neutral description of their approach to teaching. On the contrary, it is a significant indicator of their beliefs and values as a teacher and more generally as a human being. Buck and Teine appear to have overlooked the fact that beliefs and values are major contributors to behaviour - and behaviour is surely an inextricable component of attractiveness. 

So whilst physical appearances might have a negligible influence on peoples’ evaluations of one another, behaviour on the other hand has a significantly greater impact. Your friends are probably not your friends because they are physically attractive (although you might find them so). They are your friends because of the things they say and do, because of the many subtle and attractive ways they behave. 

If art can tell us anything about this subject it is that we very definitely make judgements, not simply on the content of expression but on its form. But where people are concerned, expression comes in many different forms, not merely the physical. Few people would disagree that photographs are a dubious means to evaluate the effectiveness of teachers or students. But if no other clues are available we will inevitably make assumptions based on whatever evidence is presented. It is no surprise therefore that the UK Universities and Colleges Admissions Service (UCAS) phased out the use of applicant photographs more than a decade ago. 

If behaviour really is a more accurate determinant of the effectiveness of teachers, then how much time do you imagine would be needed to form an accurate evaluation of a teacher? Presumably it would be necessary to get to know them a little first, say an hour at least to be really sure. Longer? In the early 1990’s psychologist Nalini Ambady and colleagues conducted a number of studies of evaluations of expected teacher competence based on video footage. They found that even with as little as 6 seconds of video: “complete strangers were able to predict quite accurately the ratings of teachers by students who had interacted with them over the course of a whole semester!” Indeed they found that with only 2 seconds of silent video the evaluations suffered little in accuracy. 

Like Buck and Tiene, Ambady and colleagues found no significant evidence of the influence of attractiveness on the evaluations. But, like Buck and Tiene, they also made the assumption that attractiveness is a measure of physical appearances. Closer examination of the behavioural criteria used to rate the teachers reveals that eleven out of the fifteen behaviours evaluated could, without the slightest difficulty, be considered as attractive - they were as follows: Accepting, Active, Attentive, Competent, Empathetic, Enthusiastic, Honest, Likeable, Optimistic, Supportive and Warm. The implication then, is that the majority of qualities considered important in highly rated teachers are also commonly regarded as attractive.

Part III further compares physical appearances with behaviours and concludes by considering the implications of a alternative interpretation of the nature of behavioural traits.

Discriminating Attractiveness (Part I)

Do physical and other forms of attractiveness play a part in teaching and learning? Do the appearance, demeanour, character and behaviour of students and teachers make any difference to how they perceive one another? Does attractiveness influence evaluations made, attention given or expectations formed?

Much as I’d like to say an unequivocal “No” to these questions the evidence proves overwhelmingly otherwise. Attractiveness plays a part in all human interactions – even the purely textual.

This is clearly a taboo subject and you certainly won’t find mention of it in any university policy documents or prospectuses. Universities would be quick to distance themselves even from the touchpaper of favouritism let alone anything more incendiary.

Even though the impact of attractiveness is extremely difficult to gauge accurately, it is no doubt widespread, not just in education but in all walks of life, which is probably why it so often goes unmentioned and unacknowledged. We are animals after all and we are subject to forces that have shaped our species over millennia.

Fortunately attractiveness takes many forms and what appears superficially unattractive often turns out to have deeper qualities and subtleties – this is a lesson that art demonstrates over and over again. But this doesn’t change the fact that attractiveness has a significant influence on human behaviour, it simply shifts the emphasis to another level where judgments are made by other criteria – though criteria that are no less aesthetic in nature.

Judgements are undoubtedly influenced by aesthetics. Why else would we pay attention to beauty if it were not a strong indicator of genetic fitness? Whether it be a fertile landscape, a ripe fruit or a sunny day we are commonly drawn to things that must have provided our ancestors with survival advantages and would therefore have contributed to the gradual selection of the genes we have inherited.

Do you find your friends attractive? How could you not? You might not find them physically attractive but there must be something that draws you to them, to want to spend time in their company. No doubt they enjoy spending time with you for similar reasons.

From the very earliest schooling I can remember liking some teachers more than others, both male and female. The brusque authoritarian ones who smelt of stale cigarettes and seemed to thrive on meting out various forms of punishment were almost always unattractive to me and I know for certain that I tried less and cared less about what they had to teach. Of course there were some subjects that even the worst teachers could not entirely ruin but their adverse influence could be clearly felt and it was by no means inconsiderable.

Over the last few decades a significant amount of research has been undertaken around this subject and whilst the results have not always been in agreement there are strong indications that attractiveness plays a role in the evaluations students and staff make of one another. Other studies, in which the variables have been more carefully controlled,  claim to have found no evidence of the influence of attractiveness. However, a closer inspection of this research reveals that the predominant means of evaluating attractiveness has been through the use of photographic images: through physiognomy alone and therefore, I would suggest, the underlying assumptions need to be examined a little more critically.

Part II will discuss two of the most prominent of these studies in order to distinguish between physical and behavioural attractiveness.

Bound to Collaborate

The history of art abounds with accounts of gifted individuals, of solitary creators, of geniuses. There are few modes of human existence that fit the mould of individualism more neatly than the idea of the solo artist lost in the pursuit of their own unique creative vision. From the depths of visionary isolation are brought forth all manner of wondrous objects to be emulated and revered by current and future generations. Much art education is founded upon this image of creative individuality and so it is rare to find instances where collective creativity is explicitly required as part of a taught curriculum. Nonetheless collaboration is a common form of art practice in the world beyond art schools – increasingly so - and therefore it is not surprising to detect a subtle pressure upon art schools to address this trend.

Across numerous fields of creative endeavour - the sciences, the arts, business and industry - group work is commonplace. Teams are formed to tackle all kind of difficulties and issues. Teams invariably achieve a great deal more than lone individuals and teams also have the added benefit of strengthening social bonds and colleagueship (though not always with positive consequences). Art schools themselves are organised and run by teams: groups of staff with collective responsibility for the day-to-day support and assessment of students. Teams dominate - indeed govern - all walks of contemporary life.

Teamwork is also increasingly seen as a “life-skill” (educational jargon for something that is frequently needed throughout life and therefore – it is felt - should be widely promoted and taught) and features on many job descriptions across a vast range of careers as a required skill (though how it can be accurately judged from an interview is one of the biggest challenges of any recruitment process).

Setting up collaborations between art students would seem to be an excellent way to encourage the development of these highly valued skills and to maximise the opportunities for both learning and creative production. In practice though, whilst it might look good on paper, obliging art students to collaborate rarely results in anything other than the most hopelessly compromised work, not to mention a lot of disgruntled individuals whose chances of future collaboration are mightily diminished. Undoubtedly the pedagogic benefits of collaboration are potentially much broader than simply the creation of artworks, but if the overriding experience is that such artificially induced collaborations are counterproductive - indeed they invariably dissuade students from future collaboration - then we might justifiably question the pedagogic value of obliging students to collaborate.

In his influential 1762 treatise The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau  stated that man must be “forced to be free”. But collaboration, like freedom, tastes sweetest when freely chosen.

Teaching Through Failure

George Bernard Shaw’s famous dictum.

There are many routes to becoming an expert – some are littered with failures whilst others emerge with surprisingly little effort. Being fascinated by a subject is certainly a great advantage since it predisposes the individual to devote concentrated time and attention to their chosen interest whilst at the same time providing the impetus to overcome any difficulties encountered (and what more lamentable student is there than the one with proven ability but not the slightest enthusiasm?)

Learning can be a struggle or equally it can seep into consciousness unimpeded. Some would call the propensity to absorb a subject or its components without difficulty a “talent” and though this might be true it rarely explains anything about what underlies talent.

As students, most teachers did well in education and whilst they may have struggled with some subjects, their area of specialism is one in which they most likely excelled. Nonetheless, this achievement may have come about through anything from significant difficulties to effortless ease. They may have failed often, occasionally or only rarely.

But who seems likely to make the better teacher – the one who failed often but eventually succeeded or the one who sailed through easily? And who might make the better practitioner?

A teacher may be brilliant in their subject, but might this brilliance not preclude them to some extent from being a great teacher? If they lack experience of common mistakes are they likely to be able to recognise the difficulties and struggles of those who frequently fail? Moreover, if they have little experience of failure themselves, are they likely to empathize with the associated feelings of confusion, helplessness or demoralisation felt by students in this situation and to know how these might best be overcome? 

If Bernard Shaw was right and those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach, perhaps this is all to the better, since those who "can", may well not be able to teach as well as those who cannot.

Or alternatively as Woody Allen once said:

“Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't teach, teach gym.”

30% Less than Perfect

Inherited protractor (partially polished)

Anyone who follows this blog will know that I am opposed to grading the work of art students for a variety of reasons of which this post is a continuation. On the other hand, attempting to assign numerical equivalents to more concrete subjects like Engineering or Healthcare for instance seems not unreasonable since the achievement of specific outcomes can both be more clearly set and measured. But without a clear example of what constitutes a top performance (ie: 100%) in a subject, there is little of substance for students to aim at or for staff to use as a benchmark by which other evaluations may be made. As a result it becomes almost impossible to agree that any particular work represents all that is required at any given level and therefore the highest marks simply languish unused waiting for that ‘perfect’ student who, of course, is simply an impossible amalgam of all the very best performances we have seen in the past.

Is a First Class Honours degree a sign of perfect achievement? Not in the least. Even a 100% achievement would only be perfect at Honours level, otherwise why have Post Graduate, Masters and Doctoral study? A First Class Honours degree is simply a reflection of attainment somewhere in the top 30% of the Honours degree classification.

So why on earth are there not more First Class Honours degrees being awarded to graduates each year?

In the UK around 10% of graduating students achieve “a first” while around 20% attain the "third" (third Class) category - the lowest category of Honours degree (graded at 40% or above). The other 70% of students achieve either a "two one" (Second Class Upper), a "two two" (Second Class Lower) or an outright fail. Very few students actually fail, and I’ve never heard of an Honours student getting less than 20%, though I’m sure it must happen.

That means that on average only 10% of students achieve anything higher than 69% at their degree assessment. Can it be true that the other 9 out of 10 students are really so ‘unexceptional’ that more of them can’t even reach the low 70s? Or is the education provided so poor that only the very strongest students manage to keep their heads above water? Neither. The reason there are so few firsts, I suggest, is because the general perception amongst staff is that the highest category should be reserved for the very best performances, or, as a colleague once said to me when I began teaching: “We don’t hand out firsts like sweeties here Jim.” Indeed.

There is a contradiction in this though. If honours level is not the very highest level of study and if a first class honours is not an indication of perfect performance (ie: it should logically contain work that is fully 30% less than perfect at that level) then it is quite clear that the expectations of the highest category of the Honours classification are a distortion.

Surely 100% performance on a degree course should be achievable through the production of the highest standard of work expected at that level, not some unachievable notional pinnacle of excellence. In most cases a top ranking student means a graduate who is fully equipped to begin engaging in a professional context - though it is recognised that even there they will still have a lot to learn. Instead it would seem that the very highest grades attainable (90%+) are being reserved for those one or two geniuses that might, by chance, grace our hallowed halls. And of course those individuals never do arrive and we probably wouldn't even recognise them if they did.

An alternative approach is to dispense with percentages as much as possible and to simply assign each component of work to a band and to add everything up at the end. Whilst this is an improvement it ultimately runs into the same difficulties of vagueness since, without a clear understanding of what represents the highest expected performance, it is impossible to accurately situate that all important cutoff between a First Class and a Second Class degree? Furthermore, this does nothing to remedy or highlight the fact that a First Class Honours degree can and should contain work that is in each and every respect 30% less than the top level expected.

On The Ignorant Schoolmaster

A certain toddler adds notes to my book.

“We can thus dream of a society of the emancipated that would be a society of artists. Such a society would repudiate the division between those who know and those who don’t, between those who possess or don’t possess the property of intelligence.”
— Jacques Rancière, The Ignorant Schoolmaster, (1991)

Recently I finished reading "The Ignorant Schoolmaster" by the French philosopher Jacques Ranciere. Despite having some reservations about confronting another French descendant of the Heideggerian line, I actually found the book immensely thought provoking and almost entirely accessible. Indeed it was heartening to read: “Man is a being that knows very well when someone speaking doesn’t know what he is talking about.” In fact Ranciere does a ‘masterful’ job of interweaving historical record and philosophy in what could be considered a 21^st Century manifesto.

The book centers around the work of Joseph Jacotot, a 19C schoolmaster who developed a “panecastic” method of teaching what he didn't know  - hence the "Ignorant" in the title. One of Jacotot’s five fundamental precepts in his “Universal Education” was that everyone is of equal intelligence. Ranciere makes a fantastic case in championing Universal Teaching – so much so that I found myself making copious notes in the margins. It just so happens though that I've also been reading "The Blank Slate" by Steven Pinker which makes a yet more convincing case for the reverse, backed up by overwhelming evidence and clear - but characteristically lengthy - argument. Ranciere does nonetheless concede that:

“It is true that we don’t know that men are equal. We are saying that they might be. But we know that this might is the very thing that makes a society of humans possible.”

If, as Pinker’s research seems to prove beyond all doubt, we are not of equal intelligence, is it then the case that Ranciere and Jacotot’s arguments entirely crumble? Whilst I would like to have had a good deal more evidence to be convinced that Jacotot’s method really had the impact that is claimed for it, I think it would be a mistake to simply dismiss it. Instead I think we have to seek an alternative explanation for the apparent success of Universal Education. The conclusion I am left with after weighing up the evidence and arguments presented on both sides is that where learning is concerned it is not so important what you are as what you believe. In other words, if you believe you are just as able as everyone else (i.e. of equal intelligence) then this belief is far more likely to lead you to persist where anyone else would desist and to have confidence where anyone else would have doubt. As is becoming increasingly clear; talent is certainly advantageous, but when compared with gritty determination its influence upon achievement is nowhere near as profound. There are exceptions of course, but as Stefan Zweig has pointed out in his book “Casanova: A Study in Self-Portraiture”, talent can be little more than superfluous unless it is allied to persistence and determination:

“He excelled in mathematics no less than in philosophy. He was a competent theologian, preaching his first sermon in a Venetian church when he was not yet 16 years old. As a violinist, he earned his daily bread for a whole year in the San Samuele theatre. When he was eighteen… he became doctor of laws at the University of Padua... He was well informed in chemistry, medicine, history, philosophy, literature, and, above all, in the more lucrative (because perplexing) sciences of astrology and alchemy... As universal dilettante, indeed, he was perfect, knowing an incredible amount of all the arts and all the sciences; but he lacked one thing, and this lack made it impossible for him to become truly productive. He lacked will, resolution, patience.” - Stefan Zweig (2009)

Another important precept in Jacotot’s teaching is this: “every man has received from God the faculty of being able to instruct himself.” i.e. given an opportunity and properly facilitated - especially with a meaningful subject - people are very adept at self education. This may have been a radical claim in its time, but in the present day it appears to be little more than a commonplace. More to the point, it doesn’t in the least explain why in some cases teachers do make a difference. We’ve all been taught by ignorant teachers in our lives but the results were rarely, if ever, positive.

When reading The Ignorant Schoolmaster I was frequently reminded of something Goethe wrote:

"Treat a man as he is, he will remain so. Treat a man the way he can be and ought to be, and he will become as he can be and should be." 

Once again it comes down to the idea of self-belief mentioned above. It seems to me that what really drives the success of Jacotot’s  teaching - indeed all good teaching - is the way that people are treated. Self-belief is an incredibly potent instrument, whether it comes directly from the individual or whether encouraged in them by the conviction of a respected parent, friend or teacher. If it comes from the individual, as seems to have been the case with Jacotot’s students, then all to the better. But if it can be facilitated, enabled or encouraged - so long as this doesn’t engender dependence - then all to the better too.

So, in spite of all the evidence in Pinker's favour, how you "treat" people seems more profoundly crucial for the vast majority of people than those rare and fickle gifts of talent. I don't think I know anyone who hasn't at some point in their lives been inspired by someone - whether a teacher, parent or friend - that made them feel as though they had a special ability - a “talent” if you will - that was worth serious attention and effort. Whether these teachers were in fact correct in spotting some unique gift is perhaps peripheral to the immense force of conviction that comes from being encouraged by the evident faith of someone one respects or admires – by being treated as you can be and ought to be.