Meta-Practice, Research, Thought Experiments in Agency

Ways and Means: Points of Reference

A few past notes and new points of reference related to my Ways and Means project, on view through October 15 at Kala Art Institute.

Ways and Means came out of my Inter/dependence ‘zine, a report focusing on self-organizers. I loved the way Adam Gopnik wrote about Jane Jacobs’s interest in self-organizing [emphasis added]:

[In The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Jane Jacobs] told the story of a little girl seemingly being harassed by an older man, and of how all of Hudson Street emerged from stores and stoops to protect her…. She made the still startling point that, on richer blocks, a whole class of eyes had to be hired to play the role that, on Hudson Street, locals played for nothing: “A network of doormen and superintendents, of delivery boys and nursemaids, a form of hired neighborhood, keeps residential Park Avenue supplied with eyes.” A hired neighborhood! It’s obvious once it’s said, but no one before had said it, because no one before had seen it.

The book is really a study in the miracle of self-organization, as with D’Arcy Thompson’s studies of biological growth. Without plans, beautiful shapes and systems emerge from necessity. Where before her people had seen accident or exploitation or ugliness, she saw an ecology of appetites.

Adam Gopnik, “Jane Jacobs’s Street Smarts,” New Yorker, September 26, 2016

This sense of acting out of necessity, or appetite—the agency and empowerment of creating a desired condition to exist within—is a huge inspiration to me.

Most of the activity kits in Ways and Means have two components: printed ephemera, housed in a canvas tool pocket or pouch (which can be attached to an apron, belt, or garment). The pouch is important to me, as I see a strong connection between physical agency, and social or political agency. Freedom is first and foremost about mobility. And feeling free—say, as artists—means that we don’t have to shape our lives around systems whose values we don’t believe in. In many ways, the project is about recognizing the tools, skills, and resources (read: each other) that we already carry, made physical by the tool pouches.

Activities housed in canvas pouches, displayed on a wall. Participants can attach them to garments using the snaps. Supported by a Fellowship from Kala Art Institute and an Artist-in-Residence Workspace Grant from the Center for Book Arts. Photo: Jiajun Wang

Activities housed in canvas pouches, displayed on a wall. Participants can attach them to garments using the snaps. Supported by a Fellowship from Kala Art Institute and an Artist-in-Residence Workspace Grant from the Center for Book Arts. Photo: Jiajun Wang

With that in mind, Chelsea G. Summers’ “The Politics of Pockets” (Racked, 9/19/2016) is an intriguing history of pockets from a feminist perspective. It starts with the fact that in Medieval times, men and women carried pouches attached to their waists. (The following several hundred years of gender-policing-via-pockets seem like an aberration to me.) The essay also touches upon the intersection of pockets and bicycling—again, mobility implying freedom.

One of the responses to Ways and Means has to do with the number of components involved. As there was a lot of letterpress printing, the process was particularly preparation-intensive. Here’s how I kept track of things:

Workflow spreadsheet for managing each activity kits across multiple stages.

Workflow spreadsheet for managing each activity kits across multiple stages.

I am not saying this level of nerdiness is always warranted, and I think many people would chafe at organizing creative production this way. But letterpress printing takes a special kind of detail-oriented person—hence the aphorism, “check your ‘p’s and ‘q’s.” This chart was useful for getting all the pieces—plates, type, paper, board, fabric—in place before I started printing. And getting different activities to converge at similar stages was helpful, e.g., buying paper in one trip, or binding all at once. Seeing that things were in-progress helped me stay focused; there is always something to do. And when you’re working in more than one space—such as a studio and printshop on opposite ends of a complex, or a home studio and a printshop in another borough—it’s nice to remember to pack the right materials for the day’s tasks.

A minor innovation that took a while for me to arrive at is this (it’s also a peek at a forthcoming activity):

A chart of printing passes.

A chart of printing passes.

Some activities entail multiple printing passes using different inks and media, and it could get confusing. I found that charting it this way helps me to visualize the steps, and prepare the plates and type accordingly. I may have even saved myself a fourth pass on this one. Pass 1 is done, 2 and 3 remain. To be continued…

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Thought Experiments in Agency

Artists’ Personal Impacts Survey Data Analysis Process Notes

My practice is always shifting, and right now it looks like data analysis.

Artist's Personal Impacts Survey response spreadsheet

Artist’s Personal Impacts Survey response spreadsheet

I’ve celebrated nerding out in my art practice. I seem to be reaching a new zenith now.

Thanks to everyone for taking or sharing the Artist’s Personal Impacts Survey. I am now trying to get a handle on 112 survey responses. There were 40 questions in the survey.

Thirty-one questions were quantitative. Those questions used Likert scales of 5 or more options. To tally the data, I’ve been using Google forms with formulas cobbled from my experience with Excel (thanks to my first internship), Google searches, and M’s coding knowledge. I’ve translated the data into percentages, which I’ve drawn as bar charts in my sketchbook. (This is one of those rare occasions in which Moleskin’s 5mm gridded paper is coming in handy: 1mm=1%.) Stacked bar charts seemed like the best bet, and M, who studied with Nicholas Felton, agreed. I’m making my stacks via good old cut-and-paste. I hope that physically manipulating the information will help me understand it better.

Stacked bar chart, attitudes towards four sectors of the art world; work in progress.

Stacked bar chart, attitudes towards four sectors of the art world; work in progress.

Nine questions were qualitative, asking for open-ended responses. Many respondents took the time to carefully reflect and elaborate upon their answers, or articulate new distinctions to my survey questions. I’ve exported these answers, and they total 65 pages, or over 22,000 words. I’ve started categorizing the answers, and am encountering interesting findings.

Here’s one surprise from the process: A few respondents argued with the questions in their responses, or disagreed with assumptions underlying the questions. I was surprised and somewhat miffed, at first. But then I realized that it’s a good thing that respondents felt empowered to maintain their own perspectives. I take it as a sign that the survey questions were not “priming” them (at least, those contrarian respondents) to submit answers biased by my own interest in positivity.

My practice is shifting… I’m considering how working like this is experimental (in both senses of the word: trying new things, and akin to psychological experiments and studies), and experiential (taking participants or viewers through a process, or inhabiting a process through which I discover my own practice). It seems to be both oftentimes. The outcomes are yet to be determined, but I’m feeling good about the process. It’s challenging my skills and abilities. I’m learning new things. It’s concordant with my interests. That the process may not look like a typical studio process is relatively unimportant to me.

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