“The wonder of objects has continued to take us to new places” (MacLure, 2013, p. 231).
Over the summer, I went to the New York Botanical Garden to see Yayoi Kusama’s Cosmic Nature Exhibit. Kusama’s work, from canvas acrylics to thick tree trunks wrapped in bright red and white polka dot fabric to massive pumpkin sculptures made of fiberglass and bronze, was featured across the 250-acre property. While I knew nothing of the contemporary Japanese artist ahead of time, her passion for nature and experimentation with multiple modes of art came to ‘life’ – fascinating me as I walked through different installations of this curated experience (See link for more).
Once such installation was the Flower Obsession – one of Kusama’s Obliteration Rooms. From the outside (and at first glance), I wasn’t even sure if the white tent-shaped structure was part of the exhibit. Then, when I reached the front of the line, I was handed a pinkish-red flower sticker along with verbal instructions to place the sticker somewhere inside the room. At first, I thought to myself, this sticker would make a cool souvenir (although instructions were given that we could not hold onto it). But, when I entered the room – a furnished space complete with a table, chairs, shelves, and bookcases – I was struck by the depth of color, the layers and patterns that were forming and surrounding me from the interactive installation. As each person moved through the room, peeled off, and placed their flower sticker within the structure, it was changing. Pictures of the Flower Obsession from friends who visited a month prior differed from mine and then from my mother’s who attended the exhibit most recently, in October. As I walked through the room, the decision I faced regarding where and how to place my flower sticker was playful and powerful. It reminded me that art is not a final thing – bound to a specific outcome. Rather, it is a process that comes to fruition in numerous ways. It has the capacity to change, depending on the context and entities involved. And some of the changes, along with the accompanying affects, cannot always be (quantifiably) captured.
This inability to fully capture a sensation, the capacity to be caught in the moment, and the potential to pause within a process instead of settle on a specific outcome – reminded me of my dissertation research – or, at least, the possibilities I began to discover once I let go of what was expected. It reminded me that we (researchers, practitioners, educators) need to imagine what “the wonder of data” (MacLure, 2013, p. 228) can do, not only in terms of openings within data but also regarding what we see as ‘outcomes’ from such data. My engagement with this interactive installation reminded me: we need to expand and extend what are so often considered ‘outcomes’ in the first place.
I began writing these blog entries a little over a year ago. A common ‘theme’ – if any – I hoped to bring about was the idea of ‘playing with research’ in health and physical education through different modes of inquiry. I wanted to illustrate that research, and data, do not stop when a manuscript has been published or ‘outcomes’ have been put down on paper. I hoped to show that uncertainty and discomfort is okay, even necessary, when it comes to research. I wanted to highlight some of the constant questions I encountered in my dissertation. As I explained in the introductory blog, I see anything I do as a work-in-progress – open to further conversation and thought.
So, as I started to write these blogs, I did not necessarily have a plan. Then, along the way, my thoughts became centered mostly around one paper (Safron, 2020). To be clear, the idea for this paper was sparked by a pedagogical encounter (Tinning, 2010) between myself, four young people and two fitness professionals in Fall 2017. I began to write about the encounter in more depth in Spring 2018. A mess of a first draft was sent to my personal editor in December 2018. The ’final’ paper was submitted and accepted to Sport, Education and Society in Spring 2019. The movement from the pedagogical encounter, which inspired the paper, to the writing and reading that accompanied the development of the paper, to the published paper was a process itself. And, here I am, still engaging with data from that encounter years later. Some of what I have included in these blogs were things I wrote about in that process but did not make it into the ‘final’ (published) paper. Other blog entries have resulted from further reflection on the process of writing the paper – bringing data (and the research) into thought and conversation, at different points in time.
But what has all this done – if anything?
Well, for me, as I engaged with the published paper again (and again), reread data and brought in additional thoughts, I started to wonder further about different processes – in my dissertation research, in these blog entries, in a ‘final’ manuscript.
MacLure (2013) wrote about “wonder as an untapped potential in qualitative research” (p. 228). She explained “the wonder of data” (p. 229) as something unanticipated, that cannot be neatly captured, that may produce affects (sensations) of fascination, disgust, or curiosity – to name a few. She went on to add that wonder can take us to “new places” (p. 231). For her, that meant more publications, art exhibitions, video seminars, and work shown in museums and galleries. In my case, wonder resided within me (and the data) in different ways, at different moments. In that ‘final’ paper in Sport, Education and Society (Safron, 2020), wonder generated the framing, inquiry and writing process. Now, as I continue to write about (and around) data from that paper or my broader dissertation, wonder has begun to extend what I imagine as ‘outcomes’ in research and practice.
Yes, it felt good to receive that first acceptance letter from a journal. (My mother, the biggest critic of all, even printed out the paper to put in her yearly scrapbook.) But, if we were to pause with wonder, I would like to believe that ‘final’ paper is not what matters most. Instead, it is the steps along the way that we can and need to value further. For me, these steps – or processes – are the ‘outcomes.’
Sometimes, I discover these steps in publications. It may be a book chapter in which the author explains how ‘hanging out’ with young people was a critical part of her research (Fitzpatrick, 2013). It can be a glimpse into collaborative relationships between teachers and researchers that blur the professional and personal (Yoon & Llerena, 2020). Or it may be a more straightforward reminder that teaching and research, as non-linear activities, require new tools of exploration. And, along with these ‘new’ tools, our attention should focus on the process we encounter and not the outcomes alone (Strom, 2015).
I suppose this whole blog is a long-winded way of saying (or writing) that ‘outcomes’ should not necessarily be what we (researchers, educators, practitioners) expect them to be. Rather, to ‘play with research’ in health and physical education, we have to expand and extend our usual notions of what an ‘outcome’ is (or does).
So, pausing with(in) wonder, I imagine ‘outcomes’ in multiple ways – as a poetic transcription (see poetic transcription blog), a collage (see video), a memo (see writing as inquiry blog), or a series of blogs. I imagine ‘outcomes’ as parts of a transcript that never make it to a ‘final’ paper but still sit with you and move your thoughts. I imagine ‘outcomes’ as in-between moments of a research project or thoughts and actions that continue to take place after a paper has been published. To me, these things – or objects – are ‘outcomes’ because they represent possibilities for exploration into “new places” (MacLure, 2013, p. 231). And in these “new places,” we can start to feel or imagine something different – no matter how unfinished or unsettled it may be. In other words, ‘outcomes’ are not static. They produce capacities towards change.
I return to Kusama’s Flower Obsession – the pinkish-red flower sticker in the palm of my hand. Before entering the room, I really was thinking about ways to sneak the sticker out as a souvenir (despite a rather stern warning). I was determined. But, once I walked in, I was struck by my surroundings. I became caught up in the dynamic installation. I took my time, wanting to find the ‘perfect’ spot to place my sticker – in that moment. I did this, knowing – or perhaps because I knew – the installation would immediately shift after my departure. Wonder, through a sense of curiosity and fascination, resided with me as I interacted with the Flower Obsession. Wonder prompted me to place the sticker, after much debate, in a particular spot. So, while I left empty handed, I have continued to imagine how the installation would change over time. By letting go of my initial thought (to keep the sticker) and being drawn into the things (color, shapes, layers, people) around me, I became part of the installation. Okay, in a very small way, but that engagement – even momentary – lingered, extending my curiosity. And that, I believe, is what an ‘outcome’ should do.
Now, as I close out this little experiment of ‘playing with research’ in health and physical education, I end by repeating that all of this is still a work-in-progress. Yet, it is these works-in-progress – or the processes we engage with – which are so important. It can be easy to want to search for certain things within your research, discount that which you cannot explain or dismiss data that does not ‘fit.’ I certainly encountered some of this – until I let go of what was expected and did what felt ‘right.’ And that is what I encourage for each of you.
Let go of what you expect to extend what you may consider ‘outcomes.’
There is no single way to do this. There is no specific path I can detail. I do find it helpful, however, to remember that research is never a passive endeavor and sometimes, it is more than okay to embrace that. Our research and practices shift – just like the Flower Obsession, in which the installation changes with each person and each sticker. And those changes, if we pause with wonder, can be filled with potential for the future.
References (for further engagement):
Fitzpatrick, K. (2013). Critical pedagogy, physical education and urban schooling. Peter Lang.
MacLure, M. (2013). The wonder of data. Cultural Studies - Critical Methodologies, 13(4), 228–232. https://doi.org/10.1177/1532708613487863
Safron, C. (2020). Health, fitness, and affects in an urban after-school program. Sport, Education and Society, 25(5), 556–569. https://doi.org/10.1080/13573322.2019.1625318
Strom, K. J. (2015). Teaching as assemblage: Negotiating learning and practice in the first year of teaching. Journal of Teacher Education, 66(4), 321–333. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022487115589990
Tinning, R. (2010). Pedagogy and human movement: Theory, practice, research. Routledge.
Yoon, H. S., & Llerena, C. L. (2020). Transnational Friendships and Fluid Boundaries in Early Childhood Classrooms: The Possibilities of (Un)Productive Play in Teacher–Researcher Collaborations for Equity. Urban Education, 55(6), 865–891. https://doi.org/10.1177/0042085919892048