Three academic observations to start with, all taken from Poul Holm et al’s Humanities for the Environment—A Manifesto for Research and Action (Humanities 2015, 4, 977–992). They note that: “while empires may collapse, [including, in this context, those of academic institutions] humans do not, and have managed successfully to reorganize themselves in extremely adverse times” (p. 984). The second draws on Helga Nowotny’s view that the current move to: “socially robust knowledge includes employing multiple, even contradictory, perspectives” (ibid. 985). Finally, the article’s authors observe: “We want to emphasize the capacity of the humanities to move beyond models of research that locate the formation of knowledge exclusively within the academy” (p. 986). These three indicative observations will serve to frame the context for what follows here.

Some of the people I most admire, people who struggle to do the real work of tertiary education (rather than passively conforming to the priorities of Academia plc), recognise that the dominant disciplinary realpolitik that covers the economics of education has long been an anachronism. These people are working hard to find ways to teach what now needs teaching; in particularly an ecosophically inclusive thinking that listens and is critically solicitous towards other understandings and towards the world at large.

One way in which they have done this is by moving away from the presuppositions and assumptions of the disciplinarity mentalité, creating enlarged fields of multi-disciplinary study oriented by collectively substantive and common concerns. So, we now have, for example, Memory Studies, Landscape Studies, Geo-Humanities, Digital Humanities, and Eco-Humanities. Given the recuperative ‘neo-colonialist’ practices of disciplinary empire-building, and the concomitant proliferation of ‘inter-‘, ‘trans-‘, ‘post-‘, and other neo-disciplinary formulations, I remain agnostic about many of the claims made on behalf of these expanded fields by those who head them up. What I am convinced of, however, is that a growing number of people who work for universities are using these new categories as portals through which to enter conversations that go beyond the academic and, in doing so, contest the assumption that academic disciplines are the prime locus of knowledge production and understanding. People who now act on the assumption that it is the openness, the skills, goodwill, knowledge and understanding embodied by individuals, not the authority bestowed by the official categories that institutions use to divide and rule, that are now central to creating knowledges and educational experience that’s fit for purpose.

This does not mean, of course, that the work such people do as academics is somehow secondary to their individual characteristics. Rather it means that we need to see their academic work as just one part of the wider polyverse that constellates them as both an individual and a semi-porous cluster of psycho-social relationships. And, as I’ve argued elsewhere, the same can be said of those who work as artists.

I want to suggest that the struggle for us all, now, is to resist the normative conditions that flow from the internalisation of a monolithic notion of ‘life-as’ some form of professional specialist, for example ‘Academic’ or ‘Artist’. That is, a unitary belief in a ‘life-as’ as authorized by a disciplinary education, one taken as the means to a job organising, legislating for, administering, and generally intervening in, the intellectual, cultural, or practical conditions of others’ understandings and/or lifeworlds. A ‘life-as’ underwritten by the administrative mindscape of the dominant culture of management, whether in relation to business, public services, the media, the creative industries, or the academy.

If we accept that socially robust knowledge requires that we employ “multiple, even contradictory, perspectives”, then we need to begin by acknowledging that we are each a polyverse, and then acting accordingly. This means acting not as a monolithic entity categorised as ‘Academic’ or ‘Artist’, but as a plural and dynamic constellated self that works as, for example: a teacher, an academic researcher, a writer, an activist, an artist – not to mention all those forms of work that flow from being one’s parents’ child, a partner, a citizen, a parent, a neighbour, a family member, and so on.

We badly need to recognise that we are all, in reality, just such constellated selves.

Some years ago, when I had a residency at NUI Galway, I had the good fortune to meet Gearóid Ó hAllmhuráin,  an Irish ethnomusicologist, author, musician and historian who is hugely knowledge about Irish music, diaspora, cultural and memory. The inaugural holder of The Johnson Chair in Québec and Canadian Irish Studies at Concordia University, Montréal, Quebec, Gearóid is a fourth generation Clare concertina player, a former member of The Kilfenora Céilí Band, and a five-time All Ireland Champion musician, someone who has performed and recorded with both many noted Irish fiddlers and the French Canadian fiddle master Pierre Schryer. Equally important, however, is that he is an open, intellectually enquiring, enthusiastic and generous conversationalist, someone who was happy to talk to, offer advice to, and practically help, a chance-met English teacher / artist / researcher with an interest in Irish socially-engaged arts practices but almost no knowledge of Gearóid’s own many areas of expertise.

The approach to our work I’m arguing for here, as I have done in more detail elsewhere (see my ‘“Incorrigibly plural”? Rural Lifeworlds Between Concept and Experience’ Canadian Journal of Irish Studies Vol. 38, Nos. 1+2 (2014).
Special issue, “Text and Beyond Text: New Visual, Material, and Spatial Perspectives in Irish Studies” pp. 260-275), is informed by a sociological argument that differentiate between two distinct ways of experiencing lifeworlds. In the first, lifeworlds are experienced as given, framed by prior understandings of roles, expectations and rewards that produce a ‘life-as’ an academic, an artist, a farmer, a housewife, a postmaster, and so on. In the second case, they are experienced as a (relatively) open project: multi-stranded, dynamic, as ‘being-as-becoming’ in which skills and understandings flow from productive tensions between different embodied perspectives .” This distinction is, of course, never absolute, but might be seen as approximating one made by the philosopher of place Edward S. Casey. Casey differentiates between a position, taken as “as posit of an established culture,” and our experiencing of place which, notwithstanding its normally settled appearance, he characterizes as “an essay in experimental living within a changing culture.” These parallel understandings can indicate a spectrum across which lifeworlds are experienced, from the given or positioned — whether assumed as such by individuals themselves or imposed upon them by powerful others— which constitutes a ‘life-as’, through to a becoming that requires continual negotiation as to how we are placed in relation to a world always in process. Our experience will, in fact, show us that we fluctuate back and forth between these two poles. If the first position is best described as a given and unitary position, the second is dynamic, experimental, and plural: as located in a “polyverse”—a term borrowed from the late theologian Roger Corless, both a Benedictine oblate and a Gelugpa Buddhist, who uses it to articulate his experience of the richness of both these spiritual lifeworlds without denying the irreconcilable differences between them. Which returns us once again to Helga Nowotny and the view that the current move to socially robust knowledge requires the ability to include multiple, even contradictory, perspectives.

The ebb and flow of our lived experience back and forth across a fluidly constellated lifeworld or polyverse is rarely acknowledged because it raises a host of questions that cut across the normative assumptions our culture has inherited from the monotheistic traditions of the Religions of the Book; difficult questions about identity and self-consistency that open us to increased levels of paradox and cognitive dissonance. However, if we deny the lifeworld as polyverse, with its corresponding sense of plurality and internal difference, we will have to live with the negative social consequences that follow from that denial. These include substantive restrictions on our capacity to deal with change, with the complex, even wicked, problems typical of our age and, centrally, on our ability to accept the plurality and difference of others – in particular, others whose skills and forms of lived understanding do not sit well with particular conceptions of a unitary ‘life-as’. Nevertheless, as I began by observing, many people increasingly experience their lifeworld as a polyverse—whether they do so tacitly or explicitly—and are both managing the resulting cognitive dissonances and welcoming the new understandings that result from abandoning the unitary world of the professional ‘life-as’ Artist, Academic, or whatever.

As part of the long process of ‘moving myself on’ from an active practical engagement in deep mapping, I am trying to clarify the alignments between my ‘academic’ thinking over the last few years and what I might now do in the studio.

Primarily, of course, this process requires looking at and thinking about different types of painting. In the case of recent Indian painters, often with the help of clues drawn from Ocavio Paz. Oddly, his two texts on Marcel Duchamp – The Castle of Purity and Water Writes Always in Plural – have been very helpful in this respect, serving both to illuminate and counterbalance to my current interest in the work of Arpita Singh, Gulammohammed Sheikh, and others. I’ve found Paz’s highly perceptive reading of Duchamp’s ‘anti-retinal’ approach helps me to link back to, and rethink, the work of the narrative painters I felt close to as a student and into my early teaching career. I find Paz’s sense of Duchamp’s supposed atheism, informed by his own studies of Indian thought, particularly helpful. Paz suggests that to speak of Duchamp’s ‘atheism’ is only appropriate if we insist of thinking “in the context of the Judeo-Christian monotheistic concept of God” particularly significant. Just as I do Gulammohammed Sheikh’s ‘secular’ referencing of a whole constellation of spiritual figures from different traditions in his City, Kaavad and Other Works.       

I have also been reading Timothy Hyman’s 2003 book Sienese Painting: The Art of a City-Republic (1278-1477), which is dedicated to a writer and a painter. The painter is Gulammohammed Sheikh, whose work I referred to in my last post. Hyman concludes the book by stressing the importance of Sienese painting to what might be called ‘postmodern narrative painting’, illustrated by the work of three painters of the generation that proceeded my own: Bhupen Khakhar, R. B. Kitaj, and Ken Kiff. It is not difficult for anyone familiar with these artists, or with Sheikh’s Returning Home After a Long Absence to see why this is link to Sienese painting is wholly appropriate. These artists are, to borrow Hyman’s words, preoccupied with the visual language of “an urban vernacular”. But there’s something else there, particularly in the synergies between later Sienese painting and Ken Kiff’s work, that Hyman passes over.

My own preoccupation at present is not with the work of the Lorenzetti brothers, Sassetta (much as I love his work), and so on, but with a work by the Master of the Osservanza, his hallucinatory St Anthony Tempter by a Demon in the Shape of a Woman (c. 1440). It’s here I see a telling proximity with Ken Kiff’s long-standing dialogue with Jungian thought.

In this context, I have just finished a ‘secular’ reworking of the Master of the Osservanza (in the Indian style), which provisionally be called: An Old Man Surprised by His Anima.

PLaCE International 5^th Annual Postgraduate Conference in Art & Humanities, University of Dundee

I’d like to thank all those who helped organise and all those who attended this event and the accompanying exhibition. The following people gave presentations.

Gini Lee On Gardening and Travelling: revealing untold ecologies for a practiced place. // Andrew Roberts The Uncaninness of Place and Space in John Burnside’s Poetry. Essays and Memoirs. // Jerry Walton Antonin Artaud -the intimate relationships between site, historical context and institutionalisation. // Jan Johnson How Low Can You Go? Surface and the Underside. // Pauline O’Connell Drawing the Water-a contested public art project. // Arthur Watson From the Highland Peaks to the Slough of Despond in 2 Songs and 2 Fragments // Hayden Lorimer Writing the Future of Place // Susan Trangmar The ‘highs and lows’ of responding as an artist to the theme of landscape and memory connected to the film work ‘UNFOUND.’ // Laura Donkers Slow residency in a taskscape: the haunting process of critical reflection and creative experimentation whilst living in the same place as the people and things I study. // Jelena Stankovic The lost and recovered Identity of Banja Luka. // Joanna Foster A troubadour’s journey- place sited through creative action. //  John Dummett Between where we weren’t and where we won’t be.’ A parti of the city // Simone Kenyon Walking out of the body and into the Mountain’: dancing, mountaineering and embodied ways of knowing. // Nuala Ni Fhlathin Ideas of accumulation and loss in language and landscape in the minority language province of Friesland // Ciara Healy and Adam Stead Already the World: A Post Humanist Dialogue // Cathy Fitzgerald Entering the Symbiocene: A transversal Ecosophy-Action Research Framework to Reverse ‘Silent Spring.’

I give the following brief Introductory talk on the first day of this two day event.

“I was asked to speak about the ‘highs’ of sited practice in relation to Nan Shepherd’s The Living Mountain. That’s tricky for me because I distrust the Apollonian association of mountains with solitary ‘highs’, elevated states, spiritual insights, or what Geraldine Finn calls “high altitude thinking’. So, I’m going to cheat just a little, while still drawing on Nan Shepherd’s book.

Shepherd writes:

Early in the season the water may be so cold that one has no sensation except of cold; the whole being retracts itself, uses all its resources to endure this icy delight. But in heat the freshness of the water slides over the skin like shadow. The whole skin has this delightful sensitivity; it feels the sun, it feels the wind running inside one’s garment, it feels water closing on it as one slips under – the catch in the breath, like a wave held back, the glow that releases one’s entire cosmos, running to the ends of the body as the spent wave runs out upon the sand. This plunge into the cold water of a mountain pool seems for a brief moment to disintegrate the very self; it is not to be borne: one is lost: stricken: annihilated. Then life pours back.

This passage might remind us that sited practice is grounded in bodily being and doing; is animated as much by an ‘expanded’ or ‘elemental’ erotics of materiality and sensation as by any high concept or ideal. Instead of focusing on a ‘high’, with its association with climbing up, I want to follow Shepherd’s images of plunging in, and of disintegration and return.

Starting sited work can produce a “sense of retraction”. I need to “endure” the “icy delight” of being assaulted by a flood of new and unfamiliar impressions, sensations, thoughts and practical demands. As the project ‘heats up’, that unfamiliarity becomes a source of heightened sensitivity. And that, in turn, can “release one’s entire cosmos” – that is, momentarily shake me free of tired associations, meanings and understandings. Immersion in a new place can be wave-like, carry me away, knock me sideways. Then plunging in temporarily disintegrates my familiar working persona, temporarily “others” me. I may welcome this or, alternatively, feel threatened: “lost: stricken: annihilated”. Either way, practical demands quickly return, requiring my attention. But once I’ve experienced that sensation of dis-integration that comes with plunging into a new place, a particular ‘space-between’ appears.

Sited practice necessarily demands time and energy. Like walking in the mountains, it needs planning, attention and care. So my focus on plunging in here is simply a reminder that, in addition to all our various intellectual and practical skills, we need the space-between of the listener. Perhaps because, as Shepherd reminds us, “water” – and by implication all that flows – is always “speaking”. I’ve read Shepherd here from a Dionysian viewpoint to counter conventional Apollonian associations with the ‘highs’ of climbing mountains. And, following Ginette Paris, because Dionysus: “shatters the positivistic perspective, for which there is only one interpretation, one truth, one definite place for everything and everyone”. So this is simply a way of reminding myself not to let the desire for heroic, single-minded Apollonian ‘highs’ distract me from the otherness in place; it’s being strange, uncanny. That reminder is necessary because, to meet the many different demands that sited practice makes on me, I need an awareness of otherness, and of my own between-ness that allows me to meet that otherness.

Shepherd’s writing on water touches me in relation to practice, in relation to its flow, power and mystery. Water goes through highs and lows without end, neither being more important to its cycle than the other. It’s the whole cycle that reduces high mountains to pebbles and sand. Shepherd ends her book with a short chapter on Being – the “I am” that is her ultimate high – and finds this to be: “the final grace accorded from the mountain”. Well and good. But personally, it’s her plunging in, and with it the oscillation between “disintegrate of self” and “life pouring back” that for me speaks most directly of the heart of sited practice.

I also think that oscillation between “disintegrate of self” and “life pouring back” is central to something Donna Haraway proposes in Staying with the Trouble. That we need to make “kin in lines of inventive connection as a practice of learning to live and die well with each other in a thick present. Our task is to make trouble, to stir up potent response to devastating events, as well as settle troubled waters and rebuild quiet places”. Maybe that’s one part of why we’re here together in Dundee?

Thank you”.

It seems to me that Hannah Arendt’s wonderful book Men in Dark Times needs a sequel for our times. I think she would have wanted to recognise the practical thoughtfulness of Michelle Obama, for example. Be that as it may, on the recommendation of a friend I have started reading Donna Haraway’s extraordinary Staying with the Trouble (from which I quote below). It is wonderful to find a book that, for example, understands the value of the work of an artist like Ursula Le Guin at a time when so much of what passes for art is simply an exercise in either exemplifying possessive individualism or the corrosive cynicism that shadows it. This is a book that speaks to many pressing concerns – its ‘string figure’ motif also strikes me as a powerful analogue for what I would characterise as ‘deep’ or ‘narrative’ mapping –  and is enormously encouraging to read at a moment when bigotry and demagogy, personified by men like Trump and Farage, appear to be the dominant forces in both the UK and the USA.

But, as we all know, appearances are deceptive.

Gina Miller now needs police protection for herself and her family from the death threats that have flooded in as a result of her having spoken up for the rule of law. But, on the strength of her interview in the Guardian today, she remains exactly the type of exemplary citizen and businesswoman we need to make kin with in what Haraway wants us to see as the Chthulucene age. I am enormously fortunate to know some women in the USA who, as Elizabeth Warren has urged, will I know do everything they can in their own places to recuperate and amplify what is response-able and generous in American culture. They may, to quote my Dakota friend Mona Smith, still be trembling from the result of the election. However they know, as she writes, that now: “we have to hold tight to our visions for the earth and it’s critters. One step in front of the other. One hand held out at a time. Our need to be kind to each other is so clear. I am seeking things that bring me hope”. She sites the fact that the American Civil Liberties Union  is “declaring war” on Trump and points to the fact that Standing Rock water protectors are standing firm and gathering support. And, like Haraway, she recognises that one of our biggest challenges is not to succumb to the worst case pictures that keep creeping into our heads.

Like many people I am troubled, indeed tired to the bone, from struggling against the specific injustices and misery created by a system dominated by the commonplace thoughtlessness which, as Haraway reminds us by drawing on Hannah Arendt, engenders the banality of evil. The same evil Arendt saw personified in Adolf Eichmann. In a man who: “could not be a wayfarer, could not entangle, could not track the lines of living and dying, could not cultivate response-ability.” All because he already knew who he was and what he needed to do, and so didn’t need to think in Arendt’s sense of that word. As Haraway reminds us, thinking, thought, is not “disciplinary knowledge or science rooted in evidence, or the sorting of truth and belief or fact and opinion or good and bad”. It’s important to remember this, less we imagine that the thoughtless are somehow unintelligent. No, they are simply people who are too busy with: “assessing information, determining friends and enemies, and doing busy jobs” to attend carefully to the ebb and flow of the world as it is. They are too busy ‘being’ a particular role: a scientist, activist, artist, academic, business person, or whatever, to have time to become, to be ‘entangled’ into newness, as Haraway might put it.

Anyway I can’t help thinking that, if Hannah Arendt were alive today, she might well write a sequel to her earlier book, one entitled Woman in Dark Times.

Britain, the USA, and perhaps Europe as a whole, seem increasingly to be falling under the sway of cynical demagogues who practice a polarising and self-serving politics based on fear and loathing, ably assisted by the majority in the media. (Typically, in the UK the Daily Mail has just branded three high court judges ‘enemies of the people’ for upholding the rule of law). In this context, we owe a profound debt of gratitude to Gina Miller. The long-established world view predicated on the elite narratives of high capitalism and the culture of possessive individualism is turning increasingly toxic in both its psycho-social and environmental dimensions. As a result, those happy to cynically exploit fear come to the fore, intimidating or denigrating anyone who disagrees with them. (This has long been a popular managerial tactic in big institutions, as it is in totalitarian states). It takes very real courage to stand against this in a country where demagogues and their media allies appear hell-bent on re-creating the kind of atmosphere that allowed fascism to come into power in Germany and Italy in the 1930s.

Unlike those whose Brexit politics are based on mixing gross lies and vague half-truths, she has had the courage to do what they claimed to be doing. She has insisted on publically arguing for the sovereignty of the British Parliament as the cornerstone of our particular brand of democracy. That private individuals have had to do what Parliament should itself have done speaks volumes about the shameful situation in which we now find ourselves.

I took part in a meeting yesterday that ended in a discussion in which a number of us openly challenged some of the presuppositions that underwrite the work of the academic status quo. I was particularly interested in one line of argument that appeared during that discussion. Namely, that the difficulties we were bringing to light were simply – or primarily – the result of clashes of personality. This seemed to me to parallel the argument that any questioning of, or opposition to, the desires of the Brexit camp is just people being ‘bad losers’, ‘whingers’ – is, in short, the product of personal defects at an individual level. What this allows those who argue in this way to side-step is the fact that, while of course our differences are always expressed at a personal level, they can never be reduced, monolithically, to manifestations of individual personality. We are social beings. To argue that how we manifest ourselves is simply an individual mater, and so by implication is not interwoven with and influenced by the cultural, structural and institutional norms that are written into our collective lives, is simply a way of avoiding the uncomfortable realities of our current situation.

It is time that, like Gina Miller, we find the courage to publically name and address those uncomfortable realities; to acknowledge them for what they are and look collectively for ways to address them.      

This post largely consists of a longer (originally written for a twenty minute presentation, of the text read at a “Beyond Interdisciplinarity: situating practice in the art/geography nexus” session at the Royal Geographical Society conference in London on September 1st, 2016.

It was prompted by my growing sense of the gap between the openness of the creative projects undertaken by the arts practice-led doctoral students I have been involved with as a supervisor over the last 15 or so years, and the various academically-led “interdisciplinary” research projects I have been attached to over approximately the same period of time.

While the former have by and large become more adventurous and reflexive and less inclined to locate themselves using conventional terms such as ‘interdisciplinarity’, the later have become increasingly mired by constraints imposed by a thinking that, while adopting the rhetoric of ‘interdisciplinary’, remains tacitly in thrall to the presuppositions of the disciplinary mentality. This is sometimes the result of senior academic staff passively adopting assumptions that fail to address questions of the nexus of power, intellectual authority, and terminology within the academy. For example, by tacitly accepting that philosophy, as ‘queen of the sciences’ sits at the top of a hierarchy of value and so provides the trump card in terms of authority vis a vis epistemological differences. However, the constraints are sometimes nothing to do with the projects themselves as intellectual constructs. Rather that are caused by the deadening consequence of academics being required to internalise a risk-averse governance culture that uses audit (including the REF) to reinforce an exclusive disciplinary regime predicated on a logocratic realpolitik. 

This presentation is intended as a provocation and, as such, involves an element of caricature

My topic is the realpolitik that determines institutionally funded encounters between art and geography. However, keeping in mind Isabelle Stengers’ stress on the need for epistemological bridge-building, I’ll try to keep my distance from what Gemma Corradi Fiumara calls the logocratic culture of ‘competing monologues’. Rather than assume a monolithic professional persona, I’m going to speak as a constellated self with multiple and tensioned concerns – in education, place oriented research, social activism, and the imaginal arts.

Barbara Bender’s observation that: “Landscapes refuse to be disciplined. They make a mockery of the oppositions that we create between time [History] and space [Geography], or between nature [Science] and culture [Social Anthropology]” – indicates why I have a problem with conceptualizing “contemporary art as a mode of spatial enquiry”. This conceptualization would also appear to have missed the richly and densely interwoven existing conversations between geography, the arts, landscape architecture, visual anthropology, and uncategorizable compound practices. These conversations are important because, while academic geographers are subject to a disciplinary realpolitik as a condition of their employment – and so look to interdisciplinarity for change – that polyvocal conversation takes place in an extra-academic elsewhere. So any proposal to dissolve boundaries that’s articulated in academic terms signals a certain degree of belatedness. I suspect this is the consequence of a dilemma within “non-“, “anti-“ or “more than” representational geography, but I’ll come to that later.

Because of this misunderstanding I’m going to employ a quite different differentiation, one that cuts across the categories “art” and “geography”. This is the psychosocial spectrum used by sociologists Paul Heelas and Linda Woodhead to distinguish between different citizens of Kendall, one that arcs between “life-as” and “being-as-becoming”. I’ve modified their approach using terms suggested by Pauline O’Connell – between individuals focused on achieving “best of breed” status and those who accept, given our worsening socio-environmental situation, the uncertain status of “compound cur”. The first position internalizes possessive individualism’s insistence on the primacy of the autonomous self to the point where the desire to be “best of breed” in a given professional field – say “art” or “geography” – takes precedence over all other concerns and connectivities. The resulting life-world is framed hierarchically by, ultimately, the same historical presuppositions that link the terms “university” and “universe”. By contrast, the inclusive and compound imaginal/material activity of “compound curs” is constituted through negotiating the epistemological differences and cognitive dissonances that flow from living in a polyverse. There constellated selves are constituted through internalising commonality as a multiplicity of attachments, connections, and relationships. In reality of course each one of us lives in a state of uneasy oscillation somewhere between these two poles.

The imaginal/material practices of a “compound cur” interweave multiple forms of creative work and share techniques and intensions across a host of different skill sets and fields of concern. The academic term “interdisciplinary” is a pale discursive shadow of performative, constellated, practices that are so intertwined in participation, sociality, conversation, and ‘the civic’’ as to elude categorization. Of course like everyone else “compound curs” still have to live with the consequences of the given professional categories that govern employment and the realpolitik that underwrites professional authority.

The current relationship between geography and constellated imaginal/material practices is indebted to the AHRC’s Landscape and Environment Programme between 2006 and 2012, which catalysed certain on-going transformations. I know from personal experience that it transformed three informal networks that continue to facilitate constellated imaginal/material practices across and between the arts, activism, the humanities and the social sciences – and despite an increasingly hostile institutional environment. The effects of that Programme also inform current research projects like the AHRC-funded Towards Hydro-citizenship, in which I’m involved and that informs this presentation.

I was a co-ordinator for a network funded by the Landscape and Environment programme – Living in a Material World: A cross-disciplinary location-based enquiry into the performativity of emptiness. This developed a vibrant conversational exchange between individuals engaged in a wide range of practices. Significantly, four of the five coordinators had constellated practices – working in and between performing or visual arts, a commitment to the radical pedagogy that’s implicit in good arts education, and various forms of place-oriented research. Other participants included archaeologists, historians, artists, and the geographers Stephan Daniels, Hayden Lorimer, J.D. Dewsbury, Owain Jones and John Wylie. This conversational project informed the 2009 Living Landscapes conference in Aberystwyth, a watershed event organized by Mike Pearson and Stephen Daniels.

The Material World network was animated by conversation as an imaginal/material field-based method for working-across a wide range of disparate skills, practices, engagements, and lines of thought. A concurrent project involving Patrick Keiller and Doreen Massey adopted the same approach to produce the film Robinson in Ruins and the installation The Robinson Institute at Tate Britain in 2012. That creative exposition included film, curated artefacts, and carefully researched polyvocal texts, interweaving diverse historical and contemporary material in telling juxtapositions. The project as a whole is an exemplary indication of what collaboration that privileges an extra-academic context can achieve.

SPUD is an on-going imaginal/material conversation initiated by Deirdre O’Mahony. It works with cultural and agricultural concerns and involves both a South American research institute and the Loy Association in Ireland. Initially a way of presenting a more nuanced understand of the potato’s role in Irish culture – particularly in relation to food security and globalized food production – it has developed into an understandable and accessible entry point for a public discourse on sustainability, food security, and tacit cultivation knowledge. Its lazy-beds were recently displayed as “useful art” outside the Irish Museum of Modern Art.

A project like SPUD requires its coordinator to identify and acknowledge the limitations of different epistemological assumptions. This enables a collective mind-set comparable to that of a “compound cur” to develop. Without this grounding in “epistemological agnosticism”, collaborative academic projects continue by default to be framed by the realpolitik of the logocratic order because that is what frames their funders’ criteria. Criteria in turn based on a consensus that categorizes the arts as “other” and subaltern. This framing is independent of the views of individual academics. Academic research governance systematically enforces its consensus on the basis of the “epistemological error” identified by Gregory Bateson. In a paper called Stepping from the wreckage, Owain Jones summarizes this error as: “the enlightenment/modern aspirations of progress towards truth through the elimination of doubt and the application of reason, language and power” – the tripartite basis of the logocratic order – so as to divide, sort, represent and fix the world. Academic realpolitik enforces this logocratic order. Even if all the individuals in a collaborative team would claim to reject the error Bateson identifies, that realpolitik subordinates the outcomes of consensus-based research to that order, or else marginalizes or negates them. In short, consensually based Research Council funded projects always ultimately conform to the requirements of a logos that divides, sorts, represents, analyses and fixes the world.

At this point it may be useful if I indicate what I see as the dilemma of “non-“, “anti-“ or “more than” representational geography. Intellectually it repudiates the epistemological error Jones’ identifies. But while a geographer like John Wylie may wish he and his peers could “engage freely with the techniques and presentational forms of the creative arts”, their academic authority still largely rests on a typical logocratic strategy. This is the use of philosophy to re-conceptualize – that is re-divide, re-sort, and re-represent – previous discursive conceptualizations of the world. It does so in philosophically saturated texts that, somewhat ironically, privilege the concept of ’embodied’ experience’ – texts on which its academic authority depends. However, some geographers are also aware that, to paraphrase Gemma Corradi Fiumara, the logocratic order is based on knowing how to speak rather than how to listen – hence perhaps J. D. Dewsbury’s emphasis on “witnessing” – a form of listening in Fiumara’s sense. All of which indicates why this geographical tendency talks of wanting to distance itself from the logocratic order through hybridization with arts practices. However, to do so in practice would be to put its status within the academic hierarchy at risk. In the terms of academic realpolitik a non-rep geographer gains status by citing Gilles Deleuze, not by emulating Joseph Beuys or Susan Stenger.

This dilemma is best addressed using attentive listening as the basis for adversarial collaboration basedon disciplinary agnosticism. This obliges us to acknowledge and openly converse across openly acknowledged epistemological differences – a process that replicates that of the imaginal/material practices of “compound curs”. It requires cultivating the agnosticism mentioned earlier to enable us to explicitly acknowledge, and then work with and across, both our own epistemological presuppositions and those of others. This process is sharply distinguished from collaboration based on the assumption of a consensus that ignores, represses or marginalizes difference. Put very simply, adversarial collaboration works with epistemological difference to create vibrant, generative contrasts.

I’ve been assuming a particular understanding of conversation that I need to make explicit. Conversation is an art grounded in active listening. As Monica Shev-chick argues, to choose to have a conversation with a person is to admit them into the field where worlds are constructed. However, this choice ultimately runs the risk of redefining not only the ‘other’ but myself as well. The art of conversation has the capacity to stay open to and wait for what is unforeseen. As such it enables ideas to converse with time, unrestricted by given or predetermined ends. In this way it challenges the instrumentality of Funding Councils and the REF emphasis on outcomes and impact.

The risk of redefinition through conversation is, however, equally present in adversarial collaboration. There is immense pressure on geographers and artists to live a “life-as best of breed”. This means that to engage in adversarial collaboration – which necessitates acquiring some real understanding of, and respect for, lived epistemologies other than one’s own – is to risk transformations that may be professionally damaging.

The dilemma of “non-“, “anti” or “more than” representational geography as I see it appears in the nexus of method and authority. The Czech poet and immunologist Miroslav Holub argues that poetry – and by implication the arts – is predicated on the inadequacy of its means, enabling it to evoke our lived experience as always exceeding and falling short of conceptual definition. This inadequacy is deeply problematic from the perspective of a logocratic order underpinned by reason, language and power. That order’s authority lies in it claims as to the adequacy, or at least temporary adequacy, of its methodologies and categories – particularly those of philosophy as the peak of the logocratic hierarchy. Yet it appears that some geographers want to step away from the wreckage of the logocratic order that, paradoxically, still underwrites their existing authority. This is a paradox familiar to any “compound cur” working in tertiary education.

Constellated selves working with compound imaginal/material practices in Arts or Landscape Architecture Departments follow the example of dissidents in the Soviet Union prior to Glasnost. They pay lip service to exclusive disciplinary categories and the academic governance system. They struggle to work within institutional frameworks while enacting quite other values. And, like supporters of perestroika, they work below the parapet in pursuit of larger priorities. I hope this also happens in Geography Departments. In terms of any genuine nexus then, perhaps our first priority should be conversations about the type of “productive deception” I’ve identified in relation to doctoral supervision. This is a variant of what Paulo Freire refers to as a ‘limit act’ – one that, through shared witnessing, reflecting, acting and reimagining, can detach us from logocratic framings.

Maria Kerin writes of the collaborative artists’ collective Outriders that it operates on the principle of hospitality, generosity and reciprocal support, using its own resources and a minimum of public funding. This enables it to remain largely independent of systems it views as no longer fit for purpose – the same systems that underwrite academically-led arts/geography projects. The example of Outriders makes me wary of Sarah Whatmore’s call for “hybrid geographies” that are (I quote):

“not defined as/by academic disputes like the so-called ‘science wars’, important though these are, but in which the stakes are thoroughly and promiscuously distributed through the messy attachments, skills and intensities of differently embodied lives whose everyday conduct exceeds and perverts the designs of parliament, corporations and labour” (p.162).

I’m wary, not because I lack sympathy with her sentiments, but because of my own experience of the unholy alliance between academic realpolitik and the possessive individualism of best-of-breed actants. Wary too because I suspect that hybridity, like resilience, all-too easily becomes the means by which a system maintains the status quo while mimicking transformation. Finally, wary because of the context that frames the invention of Landström and Whatmore’s ‘competency group’. As with Rancière’s silence on the active tradition of critical pedagogy in The Ignorant Schoolmaster, I have to assume that they are unaware of parallels between their “invention” and strategies long used by both socially engaged artists and liberation psychologists.

Given the economic situation, there are no shortage of artists willing to sign up to interdisciplinary projects with geographers – despite the unresolved issues of power, epistemology, and financial reward involved. However I want to close on another note.

Les Roberts has identified the core of this problem of authority when he claims that my call for an ‘open deep mapping’ only makes sense insofar as its openness is sufficiently diffuse to invalidate deep mapping as a category. But this claim precisely presupposes a disciplinary perspective, one predicated on the authority of fixed categories. Like any “compound cur” however, I understand my practice to be predicated on inadequacy and, in consequence, subject to a perpetual erosion of any categorical identity it may temporarily acquire.

One alternative to the proposed academic nexus would be for interested individuals to adopt the position of the Irish collaborative collective Outriders. This operates on the principle of hospitality, generosity and reciprocal support, drawing on its members’ own extra-institutional resources and a minimum of public funding. Adopting such a strategy would minimize interaction with the realpolitik that will otherwise frame any proposed nexus as ‘interdisciplinary’. But taking such a step requires academics to lead double lives with regard to

I want to end on a different note. Writing about deep mapping in north Cornwall, Jane Bailey and I describe our working process as: ‘observing, listening, walking, conversing, writing and exchanging … of selecting, reflecting, naming and generating … and of digitalizing, interweaving, offering and inviting’. Taking up Lee Roberts’ observations on our claim, I suggest we were no more involved in “a mode of spatial enquiry” than we were in any literal form of mapping. As Roberts notes, we immersed ourselves: ‘in the warp and weft of a lived and fundamentally intersubjective…creative coalescence of structures, forms, affects, energies, narratives, connections, memories, imaginaries, mythologies, voices, identities, temporalities, images and textualities’. So whatever name we give to what we were doing, it’s not helpful to frame it as “spatial enquiry” or some form of interdisciplinary nexus.

Economic necessity and intellectual curiosity will ensure that artists look to work with geographers, at least while geographers continue to engage with the techniques and presentational forms of the arts.  I hope both camps will start to adopt reflexive forms of collaboration, or else strategies like those of the Outriders collective. However, that will require them to enter conversations predicated on disciplinary agnosticism. That in turn will put both parties at risk of emerging with wholly other forms of praxis, those of compound curs.

I look forward to that happening.

I keep wondering whether it is wrong to think that Nigel Farage, Boris Johnson, Michael Gove and their ‘Brexit’ friends are directly responsible for whatever seems to have happened in the mind of the man who murdered Jo Cox?

What is clear is that her murder is indicative of what follows on from the kind of near-Fascist anti-immigration sentiments expressed by Farage, aided and abetted by the low, popularist Nationalism of the Brexit camp. Their toxic mix of political opportunism masked as patriotism, Little England xenophobia and their tapping into a repressed post-colonial resentment – the trigger for the endless cant we have been hearing about ‘British sovereignty’ – is now set to drag a country already deeply divided by the unfettered consequences of our culture of possessive individualism into what is starting to look uncomfortably like a replaying of the Fascistic abyss of the 1930s.

I don’t usually use this blog to advertise events but this conference, set up by the Centre for Landscape Studies at NUI, Galway, looks to be really interesting in a number of respects. What particularly caught my interest was the following:

“Arranging the contributions around four themes: Place Values; Places in Action; Place Thinking; and Place Governance; the conference aims to reflect and critique the journey of values from their genesis and expression in place, through how they are recorded and documented, to the position they command or are accorded in governance and contemporary social praxis”.

“All of the human sciences recognise the important role that the collective values engendered in place-making have in building and reinforcing community cohesion. However, a 2015 survey by the Heritage Council reveals that, in Ireland, the public rank built and natural heritage equally. In fact, though the gap is statistically insignificant, nature is ranked ahead of monuments and buildings as heritage. This suggests that the values associated with nature are not only scientific, that ecosystems service more than just the biological needs of society, and that topophilia and biophilia are deeply intertwined. In short, place has ecological dimensions which, in terms of management, can be honoured by initiatives such as Natura 2000, Green Infrastructure and High Nature Value Farming”.

“Typically, however, many of the cultural values attaching to landscape are expressed only in the languages of poetry and the creative arts. Though uniquely sensitive to the synaptic and protean nature of the relationship between people and place, such expressions are commonly deprived of their force and agency during the decision-making process. When it comes to regional, national and international business and governance, historical and cultural values are usually required to cede to biophysical and economic ones, leading to an inversion of value-hierarchies customarily associated with community projects“.

I know (or have met) a number of the people involved in setting up this conference and, as a result, I’m further encouraged to enthuse about it in advance.

But anyone interested in submitting will need to get their skates  on as abstracts (not exceeding 800 characters) and nomination of one conference theme has to be in by 17:00 (GMT) 27th November 2015 using the online abstract form located on the Landscape Values: Place and Praxis web site hosted by www.conference.ie.