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Thoughts on graduate studio education
Art Journal, Winter, 2006 by Gareth James
Nearly three years ago, I was asked to participate in a questionnaire for the German art journal Texte zur Kunst. The premise of the invitation was similar to that of Art Journal's--a short thought piece on art education. My response for Texte zur Kunst was published in the March 2004 issue. (1) The editors asked two questions:
The first part of the question we would like to ask you is simple: How do you teach art?--but need not, of course, be answered in an equally simple way With this, we want to ask you for a brief outline of your "method" (if there is one). The second part is somewhat more detailed: If you could change one thing in the education system you're working in, which one would it be?
While I need to respond slightly differently to Art Journal, I'll repeat here my answer to the above questions (despite the distance I would like to take on some aspects of the formulation of my answer), since it hasn't been published in English and because it establishes the context for what will be a more specific answer to a new question, posed in a more general fashion, by Art Journal:
I'd like to answer your questions in reverse order: an answer to the
second question forms the context of intelligibility within which an
answer to the first becomes sensible. And here I give my game away
from the beginning--providing something like a basic ontology of
education. So-called alternative educational models have always sought
primarily to change the grounds of intelligibility. Infamously, these
are rarely permitted to become mainstream practices because of their
anarchic generativity, and not just because there are almost always
drugs, delegitimated mysticotheological practices, or chickens
involved.
Often enough, thinking on the subject remains embedded at the level
Of how the teacher should teach, and as such, given that the teacher
is already inside the institution, always remains circumscribed by
institutional negotiation. More rarely do we discuss how to be taught.
In the rare moments that we do so, the relational category of the
alternative is more often than not supplanted by the category of
opposition. Or how to not be taught. That we generally don't want to
hear about this can be seen in a relatively recent example: the much-
maligned play by David Mamet, Oleanna. Mamet's play is a deeply
incisive observation of education (and therefore society) in crisis
and is far more interesting than its initial reception might suggest:
a vitriolic diatribe against political correctness that had supposedly
liberal audiences jumping up from their seats, pumping their fists,
and cheering when the beleaguered professor violently strikes out in
frustration at the difficult student. Mamet combined the
contemporaneous pedagogical problem (how to teach society to stop
being so damn bigoted) with the unfinished question of 1960s student
radicalism (how to not be taught in order to participate in the
question of how to teach). Ultimately, Mamet's play won't be included
next to John Stuart Mill in any reader on the philosophy of education
because it finally declines to get its hands dirty by proffering any
program, even provisional, of its own.
The same could not be said of the Situationists. Putting aside for
the moment their own problems with authority (both internal and
external), their "On the Poverty of Student Life" (1966) suggests an
elision between the problems of education and the problems of
revolution. Citing Georg Lukacs approvingly on the question of
revolution, the S.I. together with "the students of Strasbourg" note
that "If they are to be realized in practice, 'theoretical' tendencies
and differences must immediately be translated into organizational
questions." (1) I am certainly not advocating that all distinction
between student and teacher ought to be abolished, though I'm happy
to consider it. Neither do I think that the problem of the
student-consumer, first felt in the United States but rapidly
proliferating, is enough to advocate a reluctant acceptance of the
flow of power in that relation (such reactions strike me as an illicit
fusion of the problems of value under capital in general with the
specific problems of power relations in education). What must change,
in my view, is that organizational questions can no longer be
detotalized to answer the problems of how to teach one day and how to
be taught the next, as the options above tend to do. The theoretical
tendencies and differences of students and teachers must be translated
in the same organizational questioning. Or to put it another way, to
recognize in this translation that the question of how to not be
taught differs from the question of how not to be taught, as though
the student's agency is useful only in assisting teachers to teach
better rather than a demand, however appalling to the teacher, to
teach oneself.
Somewhere above I have already begun an answer to the question of
how I teach, that is, it might also be marked by thinking how to not
teach, however appalling to some students. This might seem a little
abstract for some, but if we are not permitted to deinstrumentalize
education in art schools, to refuse to enter into the normal circuits
of the production and reproduction of capital, then where can we? This
is very different from refraining from exchanging knowledge. Rather,
it restores to the question of organization as translation the
capacity to agitate rather than reify. It is to insist that the
educational situation needs to begin with working on the grounds of
intelligibility without presuming in advance what the contents of
education should be, and try to determine whether there is anything to
teach at all.
(1) "On the Poverty of Student Life: Considered in its economic,
political, psychological, sexual and especially intellectual aspects,
with a modest proposal for its remedy," by members of the Situationist
International and students of Strasbourg, AFGES, November 1966, in
Situationist International Anthology, ed. and trans. Ken Knabb
(Berkeley: Bureau of Public Secrets, 1981), 319.