Exercise 6.1.: Critical questioning
I will use the Reading Point in the study material to formulate a research question (G Williams). I will now draft a 500-word summary about the materials I have identified and details of the research materials. It is crucial to consider the question (s) I am asking at this point as well as by approach I use to address the question (s)
At this stage, I think I have established the field of my interest but have not yet focussed on a question that would work. I am trying to find meaning in my work; my research and making is about this process. I believe this ‘meaning’ and knowledge leads to me having an opinion (interpretive approach) or argument (final question?) about what and how I share my work with viewers. It becomes clear that I need to be aware of the difference between explaining and evaluating.
Considering the research question, Williams (2014, 110-111) reminds us that it is about investigating the unknown. I find the rule of thirds a great suggestion: time to research, plan, and write the first draft, polishing the draft. I have to implement this when working and divide the time accordingly. It is easy to underestimate the time I will need to polish and finalize.
Introducing the question I am asking in my work
Working with organic materials like mushrooms and feathers helped me consider connectedness and the potential for collaboration or symbiotic partnerships with non-humans and the role it could play in my life. My work became more personal when I explored my experience around death and grief within this more-than-human world. I have always enjoyed reading and trying to understand the science behind things as part of my life experience. I believe I became more aware of making kin with material and theoretical relationships in my making.
I want to think that in my making, I am learning to ‘partner with’ the soil, its history and current state or well-being, and my human connectedness as a being that will die and disintegrate. The idea is that it could lead to art-making being involved in solving or working with local problems, as Sheldrake explains (2020, p ). Living on a farm and in a community where agriculture is done, I became more interested in the role of fungi. Fungi help the soil store CO2 and thus remove it from the atmosphere. My research showed that fungi nourish plants, which in turn should help farmers to save on energy-rich fertilizers. Awareness of the importance of topsoil has already been established in this area, and farmers allow parts of land to rest a year before planting season. (alternating planting and growth of underground organisms) As a food source, fungi are rich in proteins and could act as meat substitutes, eating mushrooms. I have also come to question ideas around individuality – namely, the idea of the individual as a biological unit, as this is not such a clear or clean category as I might have thought, but more an assumption than a fact. (From Sheldrake, I learned that all living things depend on microbes.; humans have a microbiome consisting of bacteria, harbouring smaller bacteria in which viruses live. These carry still smaller viruses. ) According to science/biology, we humans are made up of millions of organisms that work together, cooperate, compete, and fight one another.
This same soil also carries a history before colonialism, especially farming and agricultural units that were not open to ownership to all living on the land. I know that restoration on that level is still an ongoing concern.
Mettlerkamp (MA Philosophy in Sustainable Development, Planning and Management, 2011), writes the following:
“In terms of the region’s cultural history, the agricultural sector in the Western Cape was historically
closely aligned with the pre-1994 nationalist government, which has left it politically tarnished and
stereotyped. Contentiously described by Patrick Noonan as ‘the only white tribe in Africa’ (Noonan,
2003), even the farmers themselves – who are predominantly white Afrikaners – are unique in the
convergent cultural space they occupy between North and South. Despite the Western Cape being
the most literate and generally best-resourced province in South Africa (Gbetibouo, 2009), racial
segregation and socioeconomic inequalities remain critical issues. Against this backdrop of extreme
socioeconomic inequality, food insecurity has emerged as a serious problem amongst the province’s
poor (Frayne et al, 2009).“
My materials: inside these materials lie questions about transformations from living to dying, becoming to disintegrating, growth to decomposing, entanglement to disentanglement, and seeing to hidden, which is linked between my human consciousness and the non-human consciousness, in which I am interested. By growing mushrooms, I became aware of the importance of soil as a life-giving force, but also as the place to which a human body, like most other living things and manmade things, when it dies/made redundant/discarded/decomposes, returns. I think this is what I would call a ‘new way of looking at’ ( a noticing?) and realizing that soil plays a vital role in my work. Growing mushrooms inside is entirely different from growing them outside. The environment outside would directly impact the growth. By making the circles to repair the soil, I am also creating an environment where mushrooms can continue to grow.
The anthropologist Anna Tsing likens the belowground of a forest to “a busy social space” and describes it as ” a city lies under your feet”, reminding us to look down at this city that lies under your feet. (How to Love a Mushroom) She refers to how in agribusiness, plants are coerced by us to grow without the assistance of other beings. (p 191-192) She describes crop growing as isolating them in “chemical stews’ crippling them, like caged and beakless chickens.” In her descriptive words, this “maiming and simplifying” of crop plants led to the plants not knowing how to participate in multi-species worlds.
The place where I work is not a forest, it never was a forest, but it was a natural area filled with indigenous plants, trees, and animals. The question is, can I do something to restore it for future generations? Can my learning from loss contribute to this action, or do I need to do something?
Working with mushrooms and feathers is a way of being present – drawing or painting these found objects as part of a daily practice made me ‘look at’ the thing. More explorations and reading/research followed from close looking and seeing. This circle of life is present to me in realising what grows in soil, and what belowground means in my work. I know that a big part of my physical body ( its atoms) is connected to this unknown non-human side of life, but I also wonder about the emotional/feeling side. (below the surface/hidden) Making vessels with feathers could become a symbolic container for this part of my research. I am asking myself if a questionnaire would be of value and would like to consider the type of questionnaire I could use.
In addition, after a tutorial session on 08/06/2023 with Dr Lydia Halcrow:
I felt it essential to consider how I partner with non-living objects. Why am I interested in exploring this relationship? What do I hope to learn or discover through my art-making process? I enjoy collaborating with other artists. Ideas around working with instructions also opened possibilities of research questions: Collaborate and gather feedback: I can share instructions with other artists or mushroom foragers and encourage them to follow guidelines while engaging with non-living objects. I could ask them to document their experiences, reflections, and any unexpected discoveries they made. Collaborative feedback can help me gain new insights and perspectives, as my tutor said I should look at the possibilities that opened up.
Considering Le Guin’s Carrier Bag Theory as the research method also opens up challenging traditional narratives of the heroic individual by emphasizing the importance of collaboration, connection, and nurturing rather than conquest. I think the “Carrier Bag Theory” provides an alternative perspective on storytelling and research, emphasizing the importance of understanding the complexities and interconnectedness of our world. Living in a country with diversity and a history of colonialism and apartheid, I think Le Guin gives insight to: Recognising that there are multiple narratives, viewpoints, and ways of understanding a given topic. Engage with diverse perspectives, voices, and sources of knowledge. This might involve incorporating interdisciplinary approaches, engaging with marginalized or underrepresented communities, or seeking out alternative forms of knowledge, such as oral histories or indigenous wisdom.
While the circular spore print may be contained within a defined area, such as the paper it was collected on, it does not have the characteristics of a traditional container. Containers are typically objects that can hold or enclose something within their physical boundaries. In contrast, a spore print visualises the dispersed spores and does not have a physical structure to contain other objects.
However, it’s worth noting that the term “container” can have different interpretations depending on the context. In a more abstract or metaphorical sense, one could consider the circular spore print as a container for the potential of new mushroom growth, as it represents how the spores can propagate and give rise to new fungi.
Exploring a list of questions
- How does incorporating soil as a medium in my artwork affect my creative process and outcomes?
- What new perspectives or narratives emerge when I adopt a Carrier Bag Theory approach to my art-making, incorporating non-living objects as active participants?
- How can the principles of Carrier Bag Theory be applied to my art-making process, specifically concerning non-living objects and soil?
- How can studying soil composition and its well-being influence the messages or themes conveyed through my art?
- How can my art-making practice foster a deeper connection and understanding of the land, specifically the soil, and its role in shaping cultural identities and narratives?
- What are the implications of engaging with the soil and its history within my artistic process, personally and within broader environmental and social contexts?
- Does my making connect to a sense of loss in terms of physical connections with nature?
- How can I explore what loss shows me about working with natural objects/subjects?
- How can combining mushrooms in art-making enhance creative expression and aesthetic outcomes?”
- “How does the symbiotic relationship between humans and mushrooms influence the artistic process and the resulting artworks?”
- “What role can mushrooms play as collaborative or interactive elements in art installations, and how does this impact viewer engagement and interpretation?”
- “What are the cultural, historical, and symbolic connections between mushrooms and art, and how can artists leverage these associations in their creative practices?”
- “To what extent does the inclusion of mushrooms in art-making foster a deeper understanding and appreciation of nature and ecological interconnectedness?”
- How does partnering with non-living objects in art-making influence the artist’s creative process and emotional connection to the artwork?”
- In what ways can the collaboration between myself as an artist and non-living objects influence the artistic outcome?
- What artistic techniques and themes can evoke emotional responses and explore the interconnections, fragility, and vulnerability between nature and humanity?”
Tsing, Anna, Arts of Inclusion, or How to Love a Mushroom Mānoa, Vol. 22, No. 2, Wild Hearts: Literature, Ecology, and Inclusion (winter 2010), pp. 191-203
Published by: University of Hawai’i Press
Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/41479491
Le Guin, Ursula, 19 The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction