On String and Staircases: Reflections on Workshops 1 + 2

String

We began with a ball of string. Every time a person spoke on our table the string was passed around a finger and thrown across to the next speaker. 

The ball of string had an interesting effect. The meta-conversation was disruptive to the natural flow: ‘What are the rules? Do I give it to you or do you take it? How much string do we have? What if it runs out? What are we talking about? Student engagement?’

I became conscious of what I wanted to contribute and when. My bad habit of interrupting people meant every time I did the ball would be tossed my way and with it a little bit of shame. Oops. Sorry. Please, finish what you were saying. Tossing it back. Waiting. The ball returns to me and I continue, a little redder in the face.

I liked the sensation and tension of the string. I enjoyed the physicality of our conversation. If you gestured wildly the whole thing would fly up in the air, pulling everyone else’s hands with yours. I had read that week, in ‘The design critique and the moral goods of studio pedagogy’ that the unpredictable nature of conversation – in the context of the studio critique – has some kind of ‘moral good’ and is a part of ‘instructor self-cultivation’. (McDonald and Michela, 2019.) Happy teacher, happy student.

Staircases

I have been reflecting a lot on my role – to be honest, my performance – as a student. I don’t have much to add to class-wide conversations, I prefer to listen. I am pre-evaluating the ‘social good’ of my contribution. I evaluate the contributions of others too – which is perhaps a little mean-spirited. I’ll work on it.

The issue is once I have something to say, the moment is passed. There is an expression in French: ‘avoir l’esprit de l’escalier’, in English: ‘staircase wit’. We exit a frustrating meeting with work colleagues, then suddenly the perfect witty come-back appears. We smack our foreheads and go, ‘If only I had thought of that two minutes ago, that would have shown Darryl from finance.’

I wonder if the liminal space of the staircase is has a freeing effect. You are leaving the weight of a conversation or debate behind, and in doing so dislodge an idea. 

Therapists refer to door-knob confessions, where a client will at the last minute – often literally grasping the door-knob – reveal a critical piece of insight. (Gabbard, ‘The Exit Line’.) Then there is the TV show Family Matters. The character of Judy Winslow went upstairs and simply never came down again. Maybe she had a ‘eureka’ moment halfway up and decided never to return. 

These staircase musings maybe fall under contemplative pedagogy. Something to explore.

Where to next?

Firstly, I will read bell hooks ‘Teaching with Love’. Love is central to my illustration practice, and what I would like to explore in this course is the way it is intertwining/merging/absorbing with teaching. I would also like to return to the concept of teaching as performance, specifically in relation to comedy and improvisation. 

P.S: I have added illustrations to this blog post. Drawing is how I process information and how I stay attentive in class. I got in a lot of trouble for it in school, so I was delighted to read an article in Spark. The Drawing Laboratory explored how the physical and multi-sensory act of drawing improves information retention. (Michele Salamon, ‘Drawing Laboratory: Research Workshops and Outcomes’.) I feel vindicated. Suck it, Miss Hocking. Now give me back my pen.

Bibliography

Gabbard, G. O. ‘The Exit Line: Heightened Transference-Countertransference Manifestations at the End of the Hour’. Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association 30, no. 3 (1982): 579–98. https://doi.org/10.1177/000306518203000302.

McDonald, Jason K., and Esther Michela. ‘The Design Critique and the Moral Goods of Studio Pedagogy’. Design Studies 62 (May 2019): 1–35. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.destud.2019.02.001.

Michele Salamon. ‘Drawing Laboratory: Research Workshops and Outcomes’. Spark: UAL Creative Teaching and Learning Journal 3, no. 2 (2018): 131–41.