Integrating Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design: Possibilities for post-compulsory education 2016025173, 2016026368, 9781138786943, 9781138786950, 9781315563329

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INTEGRATING CRITICAL AND CONTEXTUAL STUDIES IN ART AND DESIGN

Integrating Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design examines the relationship between two aspects of art education that appear at times inseparable or even indistinguishable, and at others isolated and in conflict: Critical and Contextual Studies (CCS) and studio practice. Underpinned by international contexts, this book is rooted in British art and design education and draws upon contemporary case studies of teaching and learning in post-compulsory settings in order to analyse and illustrate identities and practices of CCS and its integration. The chapters in this book are divided into three sections that build on one another: ‘Discourse and debate’; ‘Models, types and tensions’; and ‘Proposals and recommendations’. Key issues include: •• •• •• •• •• ••

knowledge hierarchies and subject histories and identities; constructions of ‘theory’ and the symbiotic relationship between theory and practice; models and practices of CCS within current post-compulsory British art and design education; the reification of ubiquitous terms in the fields of art and design and of education: intuition and integration; approaches to curriculum integration, including design and management; and suggestions for integrating CCS in art and design courses, including implications for pedagogy and assessment.

Integrating Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design offers a comprehensive analysis of the current drive towards integration within art education, and elucidates what we understand by the theory and practice of integration. It explores the history, theory, teaching and student experience of CCS, and will be of interest to lecturers, teachers and pedagogues involved in art and design as well as researchers and students of art education.

Jenny Rintoul is a senior lecturer in Visual Culture at the Faculty of Arts, Creative Industries and Education, University of the West of England, UK. She has previously worked as a dancer, a gallery educator and a Further Education (FE) teacher of Art and Design and History of Art. She has taught Critical and Contextual Studies across a range of FE and Higher Education (HE) programmes within Performing Arts, Musical Theatre and Art and Design.

INTEGRATING CRITICAL AND CONTEXTUAL STUDIES IN ART AND DESIGN Possibilities for post-compulsory education

Jenny Rintoul

First published 2017 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2017 Jenny Rintoul The right of Jenny Rintoul to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Rintoul, Jenny, author. Title: Integrating critical and contextual studies in art and design education: possibilities for post-compulsory education / Jenny Rintoul. Description: New York: Routledge, 2016. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2016025173 (print) | LCCN 2016026368 (ebook) | ISBN 9781138786943 (hardback) | ISBN 9781138786950 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781315563329 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Art—Study and teaching (Higher) | Design—Study and teaching (Higher) | Holistic education. Classification: LCC N345. R49 2016 (print) | LCC N345 (ebook) | DDC 700.71/1—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016025173 ISBN: 978-1-138-78694-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-138-78695-0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-56332-9 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo Std by Swales & Willis Ltd, Exeter, Devon, UK

For my Nan, with love 1926–2016

CONTENTS

List of figures ix Acknowledgementsx xi List of abbreviations xiii Introduction: a broad view PART I

Discourse and debate

1

1 CCS in a changing landscape: what is CCS, where has it come from and why be concerned about it in an art and design curriculum?

3

2 Theory/practice: tales of turbulence 

22

3 The meaning of, and possibilities for, integration

35

PART II

Models, types and tensions

55

4 Case study examples: introducing elements of the research process

57

5 Locating theory: the lecture theatre and the studio

64

viii Contents

6 Types of ‘theory’ and points of tension: issues of form and content 7 Subject and staff identities and cultures

90 109

PART III

Proposals and recommendations

127

8 Approaches to integrating CCS: where does integration reside?

129

9 Concluding considerations and recommendations

153

Index163

FIGURES

0.1 Main routes in UK post-compulsory art and design education within the National Qualifications Framework (NQF) 8.1 Visual representation of the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) course by a second-year student at Barrinborough Sixth-Form College 8.2 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at Barrinborough Sixth-Form College 8.3 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a first-year student at Rensworth University of Art 8.4 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at Wrickford FE College 8.5 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a first-year student at Wrickford FE College 8.6 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at Wrickford FE College 8.7 Visual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at Penton Art and Design College

xv

132 133 138 142 143 143 145

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For the invaluable conversations through the early phases of this book, I am grateful to David James. For encouragement throughout the writing process, I would like to thank my colleagues within the field of Visual Culture at the University of the West of England. For enduring support, good humour and patience, I want to thank my family: Mum and Dad, Nan and Grandad, my brothers Joe and Dave, and Kieran. This book contains versions of material in two published articles: Rintoul, J. (2014) ‘Theory and (in) practice: the problem of integration in art and design education’, International Journal of Art and Design Education, 33(3): 345–54. Rintoul, J. and James, D. (2016) ‘“That tricky subject”: the integration of contextual studies in pre-degree art and design education’, International Journal of Art and Design Education, doi: 10.1111/jade.12077.

ABBREVIATIONS

Abbreviation Term AAH ABacc AVCE BA BFA BTEC CAA CCS CCSS DBAE DipAD EBacc ED EDAD FE GNVQ HE ICA MFA NACAE NCDAD NCLB NDAD NDD NLS

Association of Art Historians Advanced Baccalaureate Advanced Vocational Certificate of Education Bachelor of Arts Bachelor of Fine Arts Business and Technology Education Council College Art Association of America Critical and Contextual Studies Common Core State Standards Discipline-Based Art Education Diploma in Art and Design English Baccalaureate Extended Diploma Extended Diploma in Art and Design Further Education General National Vocational Qualification Higher Education Institute of Contemporary Arts Master of Fine Arts National Advisory Council on Art Education National Council for Diplomas in Art and Design No Child Left Behind National Diploma in Art and Design National Diploma in Design National Literacy Strategy

xii Abbreviations

NNS NQF NSAE NSEAD PGCHE RA RCA STEM TEF TLC UCAS ULEAC YBAs

National Numeracy Strategy National Qualifications Framework National Society for Art Education National Society for Education in Art and Design Postgraduate Certificate in Higher Education Royal Academy of Arts Royal College of Art Science, Technology, Engineering and Maths Teaching Excellence Framework Teaching and Learning Cultures Universities and Colleges Admissions Service University of London Examination and Assessment Council Young British Artists

INTRODUCTION A broad view

Overview In the UK there are thousands of courses within the field of art and design at post-compulsory level, delivered in schools, further education (FE) colleges and higher education (HE) institutions. Qualifications in art and design at these levels range from BTEC1 Diplomas to Foundation courses, Foundation Degrees and BA (Hons)2 undergraduate courses; around 107,290 students are currently enrolled fulltime at these levels in HE institutions alone. In virtually every case there is some attempt to combine studio practice and ‘theoretical’ studies, formalised under a variety of labels including Visual Culture, Art History, and Critical and Contextual Studies. This book explores these practices and conceptualisations of assessed ‘theory’, referred to throughout as Critical and Contextual Studies (CCS). In so doing, and in recognising the multiple guises and identities of ‘theory’ in art and design, it examines the relationship between CCS and studio practice: two aspects of art education that at times appear inseparable and even indistinguishable, and at other times isolated and in conflict. Two main themes run through this book: first, conceptualisations and practices of ‘theory’; second, meanings of and possibilities for ‘integration’. The first three chapters (grouped under the heading ‘Discourse and debate’) introduce and contextualise these themes, presenting a historical and theoretical overview of the field. Chapters 4 to 7 (‘Models, types and tensions’) analyse current practice, provide models of CCS and offer insights into the tensions that underpin its construction and integration. Chapters 8 and 9 (‘Proposals and recommendations’) present recommendations for conceptualising the integration of CCS, including proposals for practice and the extent to which integration can be controlled and managed within the curriculum. Through such discussion, this book goes some way to addressing the internal workings of an art and design curriculum. Models of CCS and integration are proposed through this book. The intention is to provide a point of reference for teaching staff and curriculum designers to

xiv Introduction

consider in their own curriculum planning and delivery. Attempting to code models of CCS and integration might seem antithetical to the rhizomatic and unpredictable nature of ‘theory’ in ‘practice’ (introduced in Chapters 1 to 3). However, there is good reason for employing these codes – not least that the subject of art and design is itself located within education systems based on codes and structures. In addition, the dominant models and classifications presented here represent insights from current practice, highlighted across five case study sites. This coding has emerged from, and is structurally compatible with, the field of art and design education.

The significance of the post-compulsory sector In the UK, full-time education is compulsory between the ages of five and sixteen, during which time children and young people are entitled to a free full-time education in a state school. Subsequently, at post-compulsory level, young people have a choice to continue with their education on an A-level course (the ‘academic’ route) or a vocational course. Post-compulsory study might take place in a school (depending on resources), an FE college or another type of learning institution. Following the early years of post-compulsory education, students might opt to continue their education on a degree programme. It should be noted that UK government policy recently changed so that in England, 16-year-olds must opt for two years of further full-time education, part-time education alongside paid or voluntary work, or an apprenticeship. This is the case following the Education and Skills Act (2008) which took effect in 2013 for sixteen-year-olds. UK government policy impacts England only, and therefore this Act does not affect Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. Within this book, post-compulsory education covers the options after the compulsory full-time school-leaving age of sixteen, despite recent changes in English education policy, including both FE and HE. The issue of CCS is pertinent in art education at all levels. However, its position is especially amplified at post-compulsory education in which students opt to study art and design full-time. The first post-compulsory opportunity for this focused study is the two-year BTEC Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) (see Figure 0.1), following which the majority of students proceed to degree-level study. Chapters 4 to 9 anchor some of the ideas presented by drawing on research data from five of these courses in the UK – each of which is a unique construction of CCS and its integration – providing a range of models relevant to courses elsewhere. This is a useful level for selecting case studies because compared with other sectors of the UK education system (and despite its volume and socioeconomic significance) FE provision remains relatively under-researched (Hughes, Taylor and Tight, 1996; James and Biesta, 2007) – especially in the field of art and design. There is an established literature on art and design education at primary and secondary levels (for example: Hickman, 2005; Addison et al., 2010; Herne, Cox and Watts, 2009) and an increasing body of pedagogical work on art education at HE level. For example, Goldsmiths (University of London) hosts the Writing-PAD network3 (following a four-year project that ran from 2002 to

Introduction  xv

2006) and in 2003 art staff at Lancaster University initiated the ongoing Visual Intelligences Research Project.4 The position and practice of the writing and ‘theory’ associated with CCS are a particular concern in HE. However, given that FE is increasingly a platform for preparing students for HE study, there is a strong case for trying to understand how these issues ‘play out’ at this formative stage in a student’s art and design education.

FIGURE 0.1 

 ain routes in UK post-compulsory art and design education within the M National Qualifications Framework (NQF)

xvi Introduction

As with art education discourse, debate around the curriculum primarily focuses on compulsory-level schooling. Such debate often deals with contained subjects (Goodson, Anstead and Mangan, 1998: 137), particularly relationships between the content of subjects (Bernstein, 1971) across a school curriculum. Rather than looking at subject relationships across a broad curriculum, however, the focus here is on relationships within one subject field. Sociological perspectives on the curriculum are borrowed as a framework for exploring the internal frictions in art and design education. For example, in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters, Goodson (1993, 1989, 1995 [1988]; Goodson, Anstead and Mangan, 1998) is useful in terms of subject status and the construction and maintenance of knowledge hierarchies within ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ and Bernstein’s (1971) model of education codes provides a framework for analysis in identifying models of CCS and their perceived levels of integration. Lave and Wenger’s (1991) learning cultures and communities of practice (later developed in Wenger, 1998; Wenger, McDermott and Snyder, 2002) also support this social constructivist perspective of education – a perspective that helps to identify the situated nature of learning in CCS and studio sessions.

Art education now: a British perspective Art education is of current interest and debate across both compulsory (primary and secondary education up to age 16) and post-compulsory (FE, ages 16–19, and HE, age 18+) sectors. This is particularly true in light of recent shifts in UK education policy and practice. It should be noted that the UK government’s education policy impacts arts education in England (rather than the whole of the UK), and therefore practices and policies in England are not necessarily reflective of those in other UK nations. The concerns and issues raised in this book, however, are not confined to English arts education. This section highlights the significance of the subject of art and design within the education system and demonstrates why we should be interested in an art and design curriculum in the contemporary education climate. In so doing, it provides a context for both the overall climate in which this book is written and the book’s key themes: subject status, knowledge hierarchies and constructions of ‘theory’ in the post-compulsory sector. The term ‘creative subjects’ is used here to refer to subjects across art and design, music, performing arts and dance, in acknowledgement that many of the current threats to art and design span ‘creative subjects’ more broadly. In response to these threats, an abundance of campaigns and initiatives have demonstrated strong support for arts education as well as the social and economic contributions of the arts, a few of which are highlighted throughout this discussion. In HE, funding cuts and the Teaching Excellence Framework (TEF) are among the recent shifts to impact upon art and design subjects. The TEF is a government initiative, introduced in an HE green paper in November 2015 (DBIS, 2015), which includes measures or metrics for assessing teaching quality in HE. One of these is employment or destination. As well as being potentially unrelated to teaching quality in all subjects, this raises a particular concern for art and design in that

Introduction  xvii

it is not uncommon for students of creative subjects to enter low-paid work immediately after graduating while building their ‘practice’ – irrespective of (and perhaps even in some cases as a result of) excellence in teaching. Another question to emerge from debates over the TEF is that of the position and identity of art and design subjects within universities. There are clear benefits to promoting excellence in teaching, including raising standards. Locating art and design subjects within the university potentially improves knowledge sharing and parity of research status between ‘creative’ and ‘academic’ subjects (at least in theory). However, with this comes the increased merging of the art and design faculty into the larger institution in HE, which compromises the integrity and learning cultures of art and design subjects. This is happening at the time of writing: for example, the Sir John Cass Faculty of Art, Architecture and Design in the East End of London was closed down in early 2016 (despite broad campaigning) and relocated within the main London Metropolitan University campus in North London. Across the FE sector – one function of which is to prepares students for HE – vocational qualifications have been reclassified, which has coincided with a reduced range in the provision of art and design courses (NSEAD, 2016: 5, 25). As students’ choices to opt for ‘creative’ subjects are reduced across both FE and schools, art and design subjects are devalued, as evidenced by the National Society for Education in Art and Design’s analysis of the impact of government policy on art and design education (both compulsory and FE) between 2010 and 2016 (NSEAD, 2016). In compulsory schooling, the introduction of the English Baccalaureate (EBacc) measure is contributing to the reduction of both student choice and resourcing of art and design. The EBacc prioritises a narrow range of ‘academic’ subjects; since its introduction as a performance measure, fewer students are opting for creative subjects at GCSE level. With regard to schools, the ‘Bacc for the Future’ campaign is fighting to abolish the EBacc as a performance measure or to include creative subjects in the EBacc and Advanced Baccalaureate (ABacc). At the time of writing, the campaign is supported by over 180 leading arts organisations across the UK.5 Concern over the UK government’s impact on the arts in education has been ongoing for a number of years. For example, Darren Henley’s review of cultural education in 2012 (DCMS, 2012) urged the government to include arts and cultural subjects in the curriculum. The EBacc and the Cultural Learning Alliance6 also voiced concern over the September 2013 speech by then-Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for Education, Elizabeth Truss (Truss, 2013), which highlighted the government’s curriculum reform as supporting ‘high-value’ subjects (maths, sciences, DT [design technology], computing, English and languages) with no mention of value in arts and cultural subjects.

Struggle for status in art and design: issues in compulsory education Of all the threats outlined above, the EBacc is particularly pertinent. It is worth highlighting in more detail for its impact on perceptions of the arts in general

xviii Introduction

and art and design education in particular (including perceptions within the fields of both education and art and design). Furthermore, the EBacc also exemplifies the disparity between systems of art and design education. In its current (proposed) form, it also has the potential to affect students’ choices at post-compulsory level – as well as the quality and quantity of art and design provision they receive in preparation for post-compulsory art and design education. Plans to switch from GCSEs to the Baccalaureate in England were thwarted in 2013, following criticism from the arts community and teachers’ unions and recommendations from Ofqual. However, this does not mitigate the damaging message that the arts should be ‘downgraded’ or are of lower value than ‘academic’ subjects. Although not currently a qualification in itself, the EBacc is a school performance measure.This means that it is the term applied to the achievement of GCSEs at grades A*–C across what the Department for Education terms ‘core academic subjects’ (DfE, 2016a): English, maths, history or geography, the sciences and a modern foreign language. Arts subjects are not included in this performance measure and the term ‘academic’ continues to dominate as the umbrella term for a narrow pool of subjects. This idea of an academic/Other binary, in which value is attributed to ‘academic’ over ‘non-academic’ subjects, is persistent. The government’s intention is that, in 2020, GCSE students (who started Year 7 in September 2015) will be taking the EBacc subjects. The message to schools, parents and students in the UK is that the arts are less valuable than those subjects labelled ‘academic’. In compulsory education, the government is prioritising STEM subjects (science, technology, engineering and maths) and EBacc subjects. Schools are incentivised to reduce the time and resources given to arts subjects in order to allocate more lesson time to STEM and EBacc subjects. This move is exacerbated by measures such as ‘Progress 8’ (DfE, 2016b), in operation from 2016/17, which places double weighting on maths and English and introduces a system of discount codes whereby arts subjects count for less than ‘academic’ subjects. While each science subject or each language subject is credited, the same does not apply to the creative arts. There is little incentive to take more than one arts subject at GCSE with the discount code system; for example, fine art and photography will be credited as one GCSE rather than two in the league tables. Students are thus primed for a specific route through education. Unsurprising, then, that the institutions heralded by ministers as the measure for quality and excellence in HE appear to be the Russell Group universities. While an excellent choice for the study of some subjects, these institutions are limited in what they offer to students wanting to pursue art and design. The situation in schools has a direct impact on the post-compulsory sector in terms of not only potential student numbers but also the learning cultures from which students enter post-compulsory education. These learning cultures are built through the resourcing of art and design courses, the value attached to these subjects and the dispositions of both tutors and students. The message in secondary education that arts subjects are not academically valuable inevitably has an impact on such learning cultures.

Introduction  xix

This context indicates the challenges that art education faces, both now and in the near future. A 2013 Department for Education report suggests, for example, that arts education provision in schools has been reduced as a consequence of the EBacc: The most commonly withdrawn subject is drama or performing arts, with almost a quarter (23 percent) of teachers whose schools have withdrawn a subject saying that they no longer offer this. Around one in six (17 percent) say that art has been withdrawn, whilst around one in seven (14 percent) say that design or design technology has been withdrawn. Eleven percent say that textiles has been withdrawn. (DfE, 2013: 6) This struggle for the status of creative subjects in English education is not new. Over the past forty years there has been a cycle of policy-driven threats to the arts followed by presentations to government of material that evidences and illustrates the necessity of creative subjects: for example, the Gulbenkian Report (Robinson, 1982), the Robinson Report (Robinson, 1999) and the Arts Council Evidence Review (Arts Council England, 2014). Persuading government that the arts are necessary has been the concern of those working in education as well as contemporary practising artists. For example, in response to the recent policy initiatives, Patrick Brill (better known as Bob and Roberta Smith) co-founded The Art Party in 2011 with filmmaker Tim Newton, produced a film (Art Party, released on 21 August 2014 to coincide with GCSE results day) and stood against the former UK Education Secretary Michael Gove in the UK General Election in May 2015 as an independent candidate for the constituency of Surrey Heath (Bob and Roberta Smith received 273 votes; Michael Gove retained the seat with 32,582). The status and value of art and design education is not limited to the UK; it is an international issue. The UK forms the focus of this book; however, the issues are not unfamiliar to other ‘western’ education systems. For example, in the USA, the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act7 drew schools’ attention and resources to providing access to quality education in the core curriculum, particularly in English and maths, and therefore away from high-cost subjects such as art and design. De-emphasising art and design has also been a consequence of the Common Core State Standards (CCSS):8 an initiative to develop standards in schools with a focus on what students ‘should know’ at each year, level or grade of education. The goals set by the CCSS are for the ‘core’ subjects English and maths. There has been an incentive, then, for schools to direct resources towards ‘core’ subjects and away from subjects such as art and design. In response to concerns over the elimination of creative subjects from these initiatives, and therefore of their demise in schools, the National Core Arts Standards9 were released in 2014 with the aim of aligning creative subjects with the CCSS.

xx Introduction

The marketisation of education: issues in post-compulsory education at degree level In the UK and USA, there are mounting pressures on students to ‘succeed’ and on universities to ‘provide’ within a climate of arts funding cuts and rising tuition fees. The outcomes-based system that this incentivises is not conducive to the importance of process and risk within the subject of art and design. In the marketised system of HE, uniformity and predictability take precedence while experimentation and freedom are restrained; education is commodified and art is packaged as one of many subjects within an expensive system of standardised qualifications. The issue here is not the notion of ‘success’ per se, nor of high standards. It is the terms used to define these successes: that is, outcomes and standardised measures. While there are benefits to art and design being aligned with other university subjects, there are also risks that can jeopardise some of the successful idiosyncrasies therein. As Madoff (2009: 222) remarks, before the marketisation of academia, ‘art schools could still be testing grounds for experimentation and innovation including failure’. It is when these concepts of ‘failure’ and ‘not knowing’ (discussed in Chapter 2) are recognised by those outside the discipline as part of its rigour that art and design subjects might be perceived as holding higher value. The focus of policy-makers within education, however, seems to be on uniformity in the shape of knowledge – irrespective of subject differences. The Bologna Declaration sets a uniform structure for evaluating education at HE institutions throughout Europe.10 Signed in 1999 by twenty-nine countries and with forty-eight signatories at the time of writing, the Declaration is intended to make European HE more connected and comparable in quality, with a view to making the European Union presumably the largest knowledge economy in the world. Rather than localised systems, the Declaration sets a uniform structure so that degrees are based on the same accounting of credits. While there may be benefits in terms of raising standards and gesturing towards parity of status, knowledge and qualifications between subjects and countries, many art schools opted out of the Declaration, especially in Germany, in order to preserve local systems and avoid the homogenising effect of standardisation. Working to localised systems, knowledges, staff specialisms and available resources does not necessarily mean a reduction in quality; however, neither does it necessarily mean that the quality of the subject and knowledges within such a micro-system are easily shared beyond it. While the Bologna Declaration has been celebrated for its potential to shift art education from the margins to a position of parity and legitimacy across the European HE framework (Frayling, 1999; Sullivan, 2005), it has raised conflicting responses from the field of art education. The Bologna Process operates within and supports a climate of marketisation, standardisation and homogenisation across HE. This is at odds with the idea that there is no single uniform qualifications framework or set of generic learning outcomes for each qualification (Bachelor’s Degree, Master’s Degree or Doctorate) that will necessarily suit all subjects, particularly practice-based subjects such as art and design.

Introduction  xxi

The ‘unlearning’ and ‘experimenting’ in-between: issues in post-compulsory education pre-degree The Art Foundation course is the iconic art and design course at this level. Influenced by Germany’s Bauhaus foundation course (the Vorkurs), devised by Johannes Itten in 1919, the contemporary Foundation course is designed for students to sample a range of art experiences and is identified as a year of experimentation and the ‘unlearning’ of school art (Robins, 2003; Hollands, 2001). However, this course is no longer the dominant route to HE, which more and more students enter directly from A level or the vocational route equivalent (the EDAD course). The ‘experimental’ stage offered by the Foundation course is not necessarily replicated in these courses; this is particularly the case in the A-level route. Hughes (1998: 41) described secondary art and design education in the late 1990s as ‘in general safe, static and predictable’; the A-level modular system has done little to shift this and could even be said to have reinforced it. There is disparity between government policy for best practice in the UK education system generally and best practice in art education specifically. In September 2000, the two-year GCE A-level system was reformed from a model that (at best) allowed for experimentation and ideas testing in the first year followed by an assessed second year; it became a modular model in which all work from the first year ‘counts’ towards the final grade. While this may be useful for some school subjects, it leaves little room for the specialist art and design teacher to do what they are equipped to do: confidently facilitate the risk taking and experimentation that help students explore and engage with critical creative practice. It follows that the job of facilitating experimentation is overshadowed by the job of ‘playing safe’ in order to meet assessment demands. On the surface, then, it looks like the need for an art teacher as a subject specialist who can facilitate such experimentation becomes less essential than a need for one who can teach to the assessment. This evokes issues of art teacher identity (examined in Chapter 7).

Looking forward Alongside the plethora of research on the benefits of an arts education, recent UK government policy proposes that schools will benefit from ‘the freedom and incentives to provide a rigorous and broad academic education’ (DfE, 2010: 45). Employing terms such as ‘freedom’ and ‘broad’ in a model of education that excludes arts subjects is obscure; it is reductive to divide school subjects into ‘academic’ and ‘non-academic’ as though arts subjects cannot be understood as ‘academic’ and ‘non-academic’ subjects are of less value. A government focus on rigour in – not the exclusion of – art and design education may be a good idea; recognising that art and design is rigorous would be a first step (and is discussed in Chapter 2). The idea of ‘rigour’ in art and design education has historically been aligned with CCS, as though this ‘academic’ element holds art and design afloat within

xxii Introduction

the education system. The Coldstream reforms of the 1960s (discussed in Chapter 1), when ‘theory’ became formalised as a compulsory and discrete element, mark the pivotal moment for CCS as the carrier of status and rigour for art and design education. There have been no formal government recommendations on CCS since the Coldstream reforms. Recommendations from examining bodies, however, have steered towards integrating CCS (discussed in Chapter 4) – in contrast to the last major government model and despite the residue of this model in current curriculum design. By addressing what it means to integrate CCS in art and design education, this book aims to offer some insights and points of interest for those teaching, studying and designing curricula within the field, as well as for those interested more broadly in notions of integration, subject identity and constructions of theory and practice.

Chapter outlines Discourse and debate Chapter 1: CCS in a changing landscape – what is CCS, where has it come from and why be concerned about it in an art and design curriculum? This chapter provides a broad historical mapping of the identity of CCS within the changing character of art and design education since the nineteenth century. While the discussion focuses on constructions of English art education, it is positioned in an international context, with particular reference to Europe and the USA. This chapter covers pivotal moments across levels, such as the Coldstream reforms impacting the UK and discipline-based art education (DBAE) in the USA, in order to present the multiple shapes of CCS and its heritage.

Chapter 2: theory/practice – tales of turbulence This chapter looks broadly at ‘theory’ and its relationship to (art) practice, demonstrating the reification of the term ‘theory’ and its identity in art and design discourse and debate. Models for the relationship between theory and practice are suggested in order to both highlight and dismantle their artificial separation. The chapter proposes a demystification of the term (and practice of) ‘intuition’ and identifies this as a rigorous and skilful exercise.

Chapter 3: the meaning of, and possibilities for, integration This chapter examines conceptualisations and possible practices of integration. It discusses constructions and hierarchies of knowledge, subject and discipline boundaries and the theory/practice divide introduced in the previous chapter.

Introduction  xxiii

Curriculum structure is a key concern here, and two dominant approaches to integration are examined: integration as a technique or tool and integration as a philosophy or approach. This chapter sets out what it means to integrate CCS in art and design in theory, before later chapters examine the integration of CCS in relation to current practice.

Models, types and tensions Chapter 4: case study examples – introducing elements of the research process This short chapter introduces the fieldwork – five case studies – that is referenced throughout the following chapters. It details the case selection and data-gathering process and the relevance of the five case studies to a broad readership. This chapter is intended as a context and reference point for the chapters that follow.

Chapter 5: locating theory – the lecture theatre and the studio This chapter examines what occurs conceptually and practically in CCS design by presenting detailed vignettes of art and design courses from the five case studies introduced in the previous chapter. While this chapter references two ‘ideal types’ of CCS (in the lecture theatre and in the studio), it demonstrates that there are variations of CCS along a continuum that can be understood as running from discrete to dispersed CCS provision. A Bernsteinian frame of analysis is employed to help identify the nature of CCS and its integration within each case according to staff and student perspectives. The intention is that teachers and curriculum designers will be able to identify with aspects of the models presented here when reflecting on their own practices.

Chapter 6: types of ‘theory’ and points of tension – issues of form and content This chapter begins by proposing three types of ‘theory’ that are identified as CCS across the five case studies detailed in the previous chapter. These are theory for realisation, contextualising the field of practice and broader critical thinking. This provides a grouping system for staff and students in FE and HE to consider in relation to their own practices of CCS. The chapter then examines the driving forces behind CCS design, using form and content as an analytical frame. This second part of the chapter includes a discussion on subject status, conventions of the studio and the lecture theatre and the issue of writing within an art and design course.

xxiv Introduction

Chapter 7: subject and staff identities and cultures The construction of a subject culture is examined in this chapter, which considers the ways in which staff and subject identities can shape the possibilities for integrative practice. Three key identities for staff members on an art and design course are highlighted – artist practitioner, education practitioner and theory practitioner – and examples of the intersection of these identities are presented with reference to case study data introduced previously. Through highlighting intersections, tensions and culture clashes, this chapter demonstrates that subject and staff cultures are key to the integration of CCS.

Proposals and recommendations Chapter 8: approaches to integrating CCS – where does integration reside? This chapter examines what the integration of CCS means in practice, anchoring the suggestions in the case study data and making recommendations for approaches to CCS design. This chapter proposes three approaches to integration – designed integration, facilitated integration and intuitive integration – each of which coincides with particular student experiences and course designs. The intention is that readers can consider their own practice in relation to these approaches and make use of the recommendations in their own course design and delivery.

Chapter 9: concluding considerations and recommendations This concluding chapter draws together the arguments presented through this book and makes suggestions for the ways in which both CCS and ‘integration’ are conceptualised and practised. With a focus on defining ‘intuition’ as the sophisticated integration of theory and practice through experience and skill, this chapter proposes that art and design courses take an intuitive integration approach by designing a curriculum that sets up the resources required for students to develop critical, creative ‘intuitive’ practice.

Notes   1 BTEC is the Business and Technology Education Council.   2 BA (Hons) is the Bachelor of Arts Degree (with Honors).   3 See http://writing-pad.org.   4 See http://www.visualintelligences.com.   5 See http://www.baccforthefuture.com.   6 See http://claarchive.org.uk/news.aspx?id=116.   7 See http://www2.ed.gov/nclb/landing.jhtml.   8 See http://www.naeyc.org/topics/common-core.   9 See http://www.nationalartsstandards.org. 10 See http://www.eua.be/policy-representation/higher-education-policies/the-europeanhigher-education-area-and-the-bologna-process.

Introduction  xxv

References Addison, N., Burgess, L., Steers, J. and Trowell, J. (2010) Understanding Art Education: Engaging Reflexively with Practice. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Arts Council England (2014) The Value of Arts and Culture to People and Society: An Evidence Review, 2nd edition. Manchester: Arts Council England. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. DBIS (2015) Fulfilling Our Potential: Teaching Excellence, Social Mobility and Student Choice. Sheffield: Department for Business Innovation and Skills (DBIS). Available at: https:// www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/474266/ BIS-15-623-fulfilling-our-potential-teaching-excellence-social-mobility-and-studentchoice-accessible.pdf. DCMS (2012) Cultural Education in England. London: Department for Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS). Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/ uploads/attachment_data/file/260726/Cultural_Education_report.pdf. Df E (2010) The Importance of Teaching. London: The Stationery Office for Department for Education (DfE). DfE (2013) Revised: The Effects of the English Baccalaureate. London: Department for Education (DfE), p. 6. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/ uploads/attachment_data/file/183528/DFE-RR249R-Report_Revised.pdf. Df E (2016a) Policy Paper: English Baccalaureate (EBacc). Updated 12 February. London: Department for Education (DfE). Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/ publications/english-baccalaureate-ebacc/english-baccalaureate-ebacc#contents. Df E (2016b) Progress 8 Measure in 2016, 2017, and 2018: Guide for Maintained Secondary Schools, Academies and Free Schools. London: Department for Education (DfE). Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/ 456438/Progress_8_school_performance_measure_2015_updated_August_2015.pdf. Frayling, C. (1999) ‘The flight of the phoenix’, Royal Society of the Arts Journal, 5490: 49–57. Goodson, I. (1993) School Subjects and Curriculum Change. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Goodson, I. (1989) ‘Chariots of fire: etymologies, epistemologies and the emergence of curriculum’, in Milburn, G., Goodson, I. and Clark, R. J., Reinterpreting Curriculum Research: Images and Arguments. Lewes, Sussex: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I., Anstead, C. J. and Mangan, J. M. (1998) Subject Knowledge: Readings for the Study of School Subjects. London: The Falmer Press. Herne, S., Cox, S. and Watts, R. (2009) Readings in Primary Education. Bristol: Intellect. Hickman, R. (2005) Critical Studies in Art and Design Education. Bristol: Intellect. Hollands, H. (2001) ‘From school to art college’, Engage, 8 (Spring): 51–5. Hughes, A. (1998) ‘Reconceptualising the art curriculum’, Journal of Art and Design Education, 17(1): 41–9. Hughes, C., Taylor, P. and Tight, M. (1996) ‘The ever-changing world of further education: a case for research’, Research in Post-Compulsory Education, 1(1): 7–18. James, D. and Biesta, G. J. J. (2007) Improving Learning Cultures in Further Education. London: Routledge. Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Madoff, S. H. (ed.) (2009) Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

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NSEAD (2016) Survey Report 2015–16. Corsham, Wiltshire: The National Society for Education in Art and Design (NSEAD). Available at: nsead.org/downloads/survey.pdf. Robins, C. (2003) ‘In and out of place: cleansing rites in art education’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Issues in Art and Design Teaching. London: Routledge, pp. 39–48. Robinson, K. (1982) The Arts in Schools: Principles, Practice and Provision, 1st edition. London: Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation. Robinson, K. (1999) All Our Futures: Creativity, Culture and Education. London: National Advisory Committee on Creative and Cultural Education for Department for Education and Employment, pp. 3, 14. Sullivan, G. (2005) Art Practice as Research: Inquiry in the Visual Arts. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Truss, E. (2013) ‘Elizabeth Truss speaks on the National Curriculum to the Fellowship Commission’. Original script of speech delivered on 18 March. Available at: https:// www.gov.uk/government/speeches/elizabeth-truss-speaks-on-the-national-curricu lum-to-the-fellowship-commission. Wenger, E. (1998) Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning, and Identity. New York: Cambridge University Press. Wenger, E., McDermott, R. and Snyder, W. (2002) Cultivating Communities of Practice: A Guide to Managing Knowledge. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Business School Press.

PART I

Discourse and debate

1 CCS IN A CHANGING LANDSCAPE What is CCS, where has it come from and why be concerned about it in an art and design curriculum?

Introduction Critical and Contextual Studies, Critical Studies, Contextual Studies, Visual Culture, Theory, Research, Art History and Contextual and Historical Studies are some of the many terms in circulation for forms of ‘theory’ in art and design education. Notwithstanding important differences, these terms allude to a common curricular ‘space’ that has long had a problematic position within or alongside the studio-based elements of art and design courses. The Coldstream Reports of the 1960s recommended that ‘the history of art should be studied and should be examined for the diploma . . . About 15 per cent of the total course should be devoted to the history of art and complementary studies’ (HMSO, 1960: 8). Since then, the content of this ‘theory’ aspect of an art and design course has been the source of lively debate. Ways of teaching this form of ‘theory’ are perpetually in flux;1 there have been no formal policy recommendations since Coldstream. ‘Critical and Contextual Studies’ (CCS) is the most commonly used term in British post-compulsory art and design education and is therefore the term utilised throughout this book. While CCS (and its many incarnations) is deemed significant within art and design education, it remains a contentious area of the course: ‘On the issue of what critical and historical studies should be, opinions remain divided’ (Carroll, 2002: 61). Views include those stemming from the Coldstream reforms, whereby ‘under the guise of providing students with contextual frames of reference, the scholarly was used to legitimate the degree status bestowed on the new DipAD qualification’ (Parsons, 1999: 149). These views encompass the perception that CCS is an unwanted adjunct, functioning as an imposed means of validating the position of art and design as a subject within academia. Such views result in instances of CCS being delivered begrudgingly, as though it should not be held in high regard for fear of it impinging upon the identity of the ‘real’ subject. Contrasting views on

4  CCS in a changing landscape

CCS have emerged from the development of Visual Culture as an independent discipline, including proposals (some made in fear, others in celebration) that it is the practice that is the adjunct to theory: ‘the essential function of art education is the analysis and understanding of Visual Culture, relegating the creative experience to secondary level’ (Aguirre, 2004: 257); ‘[critical studies] should not necessarily inform the practice of art and design . . . art and design practice may then be undertaken principally for the benefit of informing critical studies’ (Thistlewood, 1993: 311). In these views (and a multitude of others), identities of CCS coincide with broader developments in art education and art and design discourse. It is on this premise that this chapter is designed. Through a historical analysis of art education, the position of CCS is identified across compulsory- and postcompulsory education, predominantly in the UK and USA, with a view to contextualising current constructions of CCS (detailed in Chapter 5). The chapter is divided into three chronological models, using De Duve’s (1994) three shifts in art education to frame the discussion. Staff and student readers might consider these shifts in relation to their own experiences of art and design education, the identity of their own course cultures and their own teaching and learning. Drawing upon Bernstein (1971) and Goodson (1993, 1995 [1988]; Goodson, Anstead and Mangan, 1998), the chapter aims to make sense of the ‘shape’ of CCS within, alongside and sometimes in conflict with art and design, establishing some of the themes examined in Chapters 5, 6 and 7.

Nineteenth-century art education: technique and skills of imitation During the nineteenth century, students of art and design were credited on their technical skills, demonstrated through their ability to ‘imitate’ works of the past. British art education in this period grew in part to meet the demands of the economy following the industrial revolution and the increased need for skills in drawing, craft and design in emerging industries. The belief was that a technical art education would lead to better designed products and a more skilled workforce. In the USA, early art schools (as distinct from liberal arts colleges) were formed on a similar basis, as were many across Europe (Jones, 2006: 231). This emphasis on technical skill pre-dates the nineteenth century; technical drawing was embedded in the Art Academy long before the start of Britain’s national system of arts education – that is, long before the first design schools of the early nineteenth century. The prevailing model of art education throughout much of Europe in this period was that of the French Academy, based on the practice of the Parisian École des Beaux Arts (founded in 1648). Students were taught systematically and en masse, learning to draw through copying from drawings, plaster casts and eventually the live form (Madoff, 2009: 39). Influential teachers such as the artist Jacques-Louis David promoted this emphasis – central to art education in England in this period – on drawing, copying and linear learning. For example, MacDonald (1970) notes that,

CCS in a changing landscape  5

under David, less attention was afforded to contemporary art developments (such as the French Impressionists and advances in colour theory) than to looking backwards to the European Old Masters. De Duve (1994) labels this an Academic Model. The studio-based focus on technical skill and imitation is echoed in the CCS provision within this model. What we might understand as CCS in this period – including history, aesthetics and other forms of ‘theory’ – focused on the method of art-making and was thus directly related to practice. For example, Sir Joshua Reynolds – the first president of London’s Royal Academy of Arts (RA), founded in 1768 – developed teachings in art theory and aesthetics2 in order to develop a pictorial language in students (Wien, 2008), complementing their imitations of the European Old Masters. This idea of CCS integrated with or directly informing practice continued through the mid-nineteenth century at the RA, where the art and design course consisted of twenty-three stages of design:3 students were shown twenty-three examples of Renaissance work, one corresponding to each stage (Jeremiah, 2008). Alberti’s ‘On Painting’ (1435) – often cited as the first example of art ‘theory’ (Williams, 2009: 57) – formed a core part of integrated art/theory teachings four centuries after its first publication. The nineteenth century was a period in which ‘theory’ of the Renaissance, such as Alberti’s text, was organised into a set of rules for art practice and art teaching (Daichendt, 2010: 36). In other words, ‘theory’ was embedded in practice; theory was designed to underpin and support the practice. That said, a form of CCS also existed (although not labelled as such) in the lecture theatre in this period; not all students would go on to be artists or designers (as remains the case), so the lecture aspects of the course ‘educated’ students in the history of art and design with the intention of developing in them an interest and taste in art (Jeremiah, 2008). It was not just in Europe that this Academic Model prevailed. Walter Smith – who trained at South Kensington (UK) and was former headmaster of the Leeds School of Art (UK) – was hired by Massachusetts state (USA) to introduce a system of design in Boston public schools, demonstrating the theoretical connections between British and American art education (Chalmers, 2000). De Duve (1994) proposes a triad to illustrate this Academic Model: ‘talent– métier–imitation’. In De Duve’s model, artistic ‘talent’ is highly valued according to the ability to ‘imitate’, which develops within the rules and codes of ‘tradition’ – that is, the canon of art history. These rules and codes make for tightly defined subject content. The Academic Model of art education was therefore, in Bernstein’s (1971) terms, an example of ‘strong classification’. In addition to its focus on art history and ‘tradition’, this model supported a discrete CCS that borrows from other subject areas. Under Leighton’s presidency of the RA, a historical and philosophical course was taught alongside (and distinct from) studio practice; students were left to synthesise studio-based and lecture-based aspects of their art education experience. Along with ‘talent’ according to the rules of tradition and ‘imitation’ of Old Masters, the third aspect of De Duve’s Academic Model triad – ‘métier’ – is also concerned with the value of tradition and history. Métier classifies the arts according

6  CCS in a changing landscape

to techniques (De Duve, 1994: 24), so that each discipline is taught according to its technical conventions. This is a tightly classified, tightly framed (Bernstein, 1971) and historically grounded approach to art and design.

Schools The emphasis on drawing and imitation in this period was not exclusive to the Art Academy. Henry Cole’s National Course of Instruction was established in English schools in 1852. Through this, working-class, mainly male students developed skills in mechanical drawing (in preparation for the schools of design) while middle-class, mainly female students took courses in ‘cultural enrichment’ and the copying of great artworks in order to develop good taste (Addison, 2010: 13). Art education in this period was ‘an education of the eye, and of the hand, such as may indeed be the first step in the career of a great artist’ (Committee of Council on Education, 1857–58, in Addison and Burgess, 2013: 18) – although, as with other careers at the time, this was rarely the trajectory for female students. Broadly, art education in this period focused on drawing, imitation and practice; when ‘theory’ was part of the programme, it was predominantly a theory for developing practice.

Early to mid-twentieth-century art education: the medium and the mind While De Duve’s Academic Model involved looking backwards to tradition and established techniques and outwards to observations from life, his shift to the Bauhaus Model in the twentieth century was based on looking forwards to innovation and inwards to the psychology of the mind and the essence of the medium (De Duve, 1994). During the twentieth century, the French École des Beaux Arts model gave way to the German Bauhaus model as the most influential for designing art education across Europe and the USA. Walter Gropius’s Bauhaus in Dessau in Germany (1926–32) was renowned for Itten’s Vorkurs (foundation course), which focused on material experimentation and forward-thinking ‘invention’ rather than on imitating tradition. Rather than positioning technical skill as the marker of talent, De Duve’s (1994) Bauhaus Model (‘creativity–medium–invention’) valued the generation of ideas and creativity. This focus on generating ideas as a marker of talent was influential in art schools across not only Europe and the USA, but also Latin America (Madoff, 2009: 114). Remnants of the Vorkurs model remain in contemporary UK education in the form of the one-year Foundation Diploma in Art and Design (introduced in 1965), which retains the Vorkus’s experimental and broad grounding in art and design. One of the Bauhaus goals was to overcome the division between art and craft: a division that had persisted throughout the nineteenth century in UK and German arts education (unlike in French education, which combined the training of artists and designers) (Daichendt, 2010: 46). Despite remaining unfulfilled, this aim of

CCS in a changing landscape  7

dissolution was forward thinking; indeed, the avant-garde and inherently modernist intention of looking forward, rather than backwards to tradition, steered the Bauhaus experiments. Nonetheless, these experiments were tightly confined, not least because both the arts and the curriculum were classified by medium. Each medium was subject to experimentation and questioning while simultaneously representing an essence against which excellence was measured. The boundaries between each medium created the parameters around which students could experiment, ‘unleash’ their creativity and realise their potential. Unlike the Academic Model, De Duve’s Bauhaus Model is transhistorical and student-centred. De Duve (1994: 25) suggests that, in this model, perception could be perceived as a basic reading skill and imagination as a basic writing skill. Consequently, it was for the student to understand and realise these skills and, guided by immediate emotion, to unlock their creativity. Daichendt (2010: 17) described this as a ‘taking the lid off’ approach to art education. The transmission of knowledge – or ‘framing’ (Bernstein, 1971) – is less controlled than in the Academic Model; it is up to the students to discover their own creativity through being well versed in the visual language inherent to each medium. During this period, there is evidence of a CCS provision that feeds into practice. For example, at the Bauhaus, Kandinsky and Klee taught forms of visual analysis to be applied in practice, rather than a metanarrative in the form of a history of painting. This period also brought with it the study of theories of perception, questioning and ideas, and thus a broadening of CCS content. This is reflected in the lectures given at the Slade School of Art at this time; until 1956,Wittkower was an art history professor and lectured to students about the Renaissance in relation to contemporary practice. When Gombrich took over the role, lectures became based on theories and ideas (Chambers, 2008). Within the studio there was also a broadening; the nineteenth-century art education of detached observation and anatomical studies shifted towards perceptions, subjectivities and experimentation. Forms of CCS in the lecture theatre context varied from institution to institution in the first half of the twentieth century, not only in content but also in quality. The broadening of CCS was evident on the DipAD, where the ‘history of art’ provision was expanded to include general studies, complementary studies and/or liberal studies. The General Studies Department at the Royal College of Art (RCA, founded in 1837 as the ‘Government School of Design’ in Somerset House, London) was dubbed ‘The Department of Words’ by the students (MacDonald, 2005: 205), marking it apart from the language of art and design practice that resided in the studio. The formulaic structure and examination of general studies gave rigidity to art education at post-compulsory level that was not consistent with the prevailing individualist Romantic myth of the artist or the child-centred pedagogic experiments in schools (Richardson, 1948; Read, 1943). There appeared, on the surface, to be a theory/practice divide that equated to a lecture theatre/studio divide. However, in reality, forms of ‘theory’ were not only formalised in the lecture theatre but also existed informally in the studio (Chambers, 2008) – not unlike the mid-nineteenth-century model at the RA in

8  CCS in a changing landscape

London. The theory/practice binary structure was evident across Europe and the USA; it was exemplified in Alfred Kocher’s Black Mountain College model in North Carolina, USA (1933–57). Unlike the original plan for an integrated unified space under Walter Gropius’s design for Black Mountain (the design was never realised for economic reasons, yet fitted with the ethos of the college, which took its early principles from the writings of John Dewey), Kocher’s design divided the space, isolating practice from theory in discrete areas (Madoff, 2009: 82).4

Schools The student-centred approach emerged through all levels of art education in the USA and the UK (as well as in other parts of Europe) in this period. In the 1940s, the progressive education movement developed in the USA, which promoted art as a tool for child development; in the UK, the child-centred models of Marion Richardson (1948) and Herbert Read (1943) were influential in curriculum design. Prior to this, school education discourse emphasised the separation between ‘doing’ art and ‘thinking’ about art, with recommendations that ‘theory’, in the form of ‘art appreciation’, be part of the art curriculum (Whitford, 1929; Klar and Dullaway, 1930). Whitford (1929) suggested an equal balance of ‘aesthetic appreciation’ and ‘actual performance’ (with the ‘actual performance’ being studio practice and the development of skills and techniques) within the curriculum. The Depression in the 1930s thwarted some of the developments of theory, art history and art appreciation teaching, which school educationalists opposed due to their lack of commercial value (Klar and Dullaway, 1930).

Mid-twentieth century: the birth of CCS De Duve’s (1994) second triad (‘creativity–medium–invention’) reflected the Bauhaus concern with the limits and potential of the medium. This was broken down in De Duve’s (1994) third triad (‘attitude–practice–deconstruction’) with the beginnings of Conceptual Art in the mid- to late 1960s. Conceptual Art departed from the Modernist concern with Formalism in its attention to art as medium and surface, as well as from the notion of art as a task of practising academic skill (as in De Duve’s first model). As Tickner (2008) suggests, art thus became concept-led rather than material-led. Consequently, there was an emphasis on training artists in philosophy, culture and critical thinking. This training constitutes CCS as it is practised in some institutions today and relates to the third ‘model of theory’ proposed and discussed in Chapters 4 and 5. Central to this period were the Coldstream Reports (HMSO 1960, 1962, 1964, 1970a, 1970b), which set the scene for a ‘critical turn’ or ‘art historical turn’ (Addison, 2010) in UK art education. These reports introduced a mandatory ‘theory’ component (15 per cent) to post-compulsory art education and marked the beginning of a formalised, lecture theatre-based CCS. Following the standardisation of this ‘academic’ element, art and design courses at higher education (HE)

CCS in a changing landscape  9

level were granted degree status. In this period there was also a shift in thinking about art education in schools; Dick Field, for example, talks about the need to articulate experience, suggesting that children at secondary school level in the UK could benefit from more theoretical study in art and that the insights gained through practical work alone are not sufficient (Field, 1970: 111–21). This British ‘critical turn’ emerged at a time when an emphasis on the cognitive in art education was already embedded in the US education system. The shift to ‘attitude’ over ‘talent’ or ‘creativity’ in the 1970s provided student artists with a critical vocabulary to inform and shape their practice. This turn to theoretical discourse, including, for example, Marxism, feminism, semiotics, psychoanalysis, structuralism and post-structuralism, ‘displaced – sometimes replaced – studio practice’ (De Duve, 1994: 35). CCS appeared to be moving out of the studio and into its own distinct field, in some cases casting a shadow over studio-based craft and technique. This theoretical discourse – mainly in the form of French theory, along with the rise of Conceptual Art – questioned the ‘métier’ and the ‘medium’ of previous shifts, replacing these with the ‘practice’ of interdisciplinary artists and designers. Medium-specificity appears to have been replaced with a postmodern model of interdisciplinarity and boundary crossing. However, De Duve suggests that, rather than being a postmodern paradigm, ‘attitude–practice–deconstruction’ is ‘creativity–medium–invention . . . minus faith plus suspicion’ (De Duve, 1994: 38). Creativity was perceived as impossible to instil pedagogically; the view of creativity as innate, unspoilt and in need of being ‘liberated’ was also considered problematic. ‘Creativity’ gave way to ‘attitude’, which, although perhaps an equally difficult term to pin down, is supposedly more concerned with criticality – or, perhaps, suspicion and doubt. This questioning and doubting ‘attitude’ is key to discussions on the identity of art and design in Chapter 6. To locate the significance and growth of CCS, to contextualise its contemporary identities and to point towards its future potential, it is useful to discuss this third shift in light of the increasing importance attributed to academic study in art and design courses from the 1960s. Key to this mid-century model is the framing of ‘theory’ as discrete and mandatory. Before the 1960s, the content of the ‘theoretical’ or ‘academic’ component of an art course was neither defined nor standardised. Divides in the Summerson Committee – which Sir John Summerson created when he became chair of the National Advisory Council on Art Education (NACAE) in 1962 – certainly did not help this situation. Some of the committee members saw the role of CCS as introducing other related disciplines such as engineering, politics, psychology and sociology (Thistlewood, 1993) to the field of art and design: an apparent broadening of CCS beyond the field. Others proposed courses in art history featuring contemporary issues, providing a focus on twentieth-century art and design to inform the students’ studio work. Despite the intention for students to contextualise and inform their practice through CCS, there was no recommended guidance on how this integration would take place; it was for the individual student to decipher these connections (an issue that emerges in Chapter 7).

10  CCS in a changing landscape

In making a decision on CCS, the Summerson Committee was dealing with a ‘subject’ with limited staff. Few art teachers were trained in history of art and few specialist art historians were available to deliver CCS. The Courtauld Institute was the only institution that offered a straight art history course prior to the 1960s, when more art history degree courses opened. Specialist art historians were more widespread on pedagogic courses for art teacher training than in art schools. Although the employment of specialist art historians on art teacher training courses might have been intended as a means to broaden and deepen student knowledge in art history, these historians were not necessarily used as subject content specialists. For example, there was an art history graduate on MacDonald’s (2005) art teacher training course in 1953 who lectured in anything involving written work; here, it appears to be the form of writing that shapes the identity of CCS (discussed further in relation to contemporary models of CCS in Chapter 6). The lack of art history provision was due not only to limited tutors but also to limited access to resources. There were few art history textbooks for art students – an issue to which some of the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) staff interviewed for this book could relate their experiences of CCS within their own training (discussed further in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters). Gombrich’s The Story of Art (1950) was accessible and widely used but, problematically, conforms to the patriarchal and Eurocentric canon of art history. In light of these mid-twentieth-century considerations, as well as differing views among policy-makers, a compromise was reached: complementary studies. This overcame the problem of few art tutors being trained in art history; complementary studies provided a broad view by drawing on non-art disciplines. It was delivered in conjunction with art history provision. Although a solution in theory, according to policy-makers complementary studies was not successfully delivered in practice – a claim reflected in the subsequent inspection results of all art and design colleges. When Summerson took over as chair of the NACAE in 1962, art schools were inspected for their delivery of the new DipAD, which replaced the National Diploma in Design (NDD) that ran from 1946 to 1961. In 1974, the DipAD was replaced with the BA (Hons) Art and Design, demonstrating that art and design education was under scrutiny at this higher level of education in this period. Following the Summerson Council’s (National Council for Diplomas in Art and Design [NCDAD]) inspection, many art schools were closed down for being inadequate in the delivery of the DipAD, resulting in there being no DipAD provision in mid- and north Wales or in East Anglia (Tickner, 2008). Rather than courses being closed due to problems with studio workshops or other issues relating to art practice, it was the provision (or lack thereof) of art history and complementary studies that caused courses to be cut (MacDonald, 2005: 207). Standardised qualifications brought regulated ‘theory’; however, policy-makers’ quest for academic rigour was met with ambiguity on the ground over how to deliver this aspect of an art and design course. Such courses have still not completely resolved this ambiguity.

CCS in a changing landscape  11

The theory/practice divide appeared to deepen; complementary studies and art history were seen as imposing on the DipAD course an academic validity that was not useful for art practice. The notion that British art education prior to the 1960s ‘did very well without theory’ (Allison and Hausman, 1998: 122) added to the contempt felt for the CCS element of the course. It was in this climate that, in 1970, a group of members of the NCDAD and the Coldstream Council (NACAE) reviewed tertiary art education in its entirety and produced a joint report entitled The Structure of Art and Design Education in the Further Education Sector (HMSO, 1970a). Although 15 per cent of the course remained dedicated to academic study and an examination was maintained, the report suggested changes to integration and subject content. It recommended that complementary studies and art history should be combined (with the latter becoming part of the former) and that this combined subject should be integrated more closely with students’ studio practice (Tickner, 2008). It is thus evident that the question of the integration of CCS has been a pivotal issue within art education discourse for over half a century. The 1970 report made suggestions for CCS delivery in light of what the committee perceived as art history lessons’ over-emphasis on the history of painting and sculpture. Rather than this generic provision, the committee proposed subject-specific art and design history; that is, a shift from generic CCS to a CCS tailored to specialist areas of practice. Tickner (2008: 165) explains that Pevsner wrote a five-page informal paper on ‘History of Art and Complementary Studies in Colleges of Art’, which was included in the NACAE Joint Committee minutes. As Tickner (2008) details, this report was rejected. This was due not to its recommendations on specialist CCS provision but rather its recommendation to divide art education at this level into ‘A’ and ‘B’ courses, which effectively marked a distinction between diploma and vocational courses. It is therefore significant that the report proposed a more integrated approach to CCS. As these changes were not implemented (and perhaps even if they had been), the area of CCS remained unsettled, diverse and sometimes largely detached from studio practice. There appear to have been other attempts in this period to further integrate CCS, such as at Hornsey College in 1967, where Warren Piper proposed combining general studies and visual research to create a richer, more unified programme (Tickner, 2008: 74–5). In reality, complementary studies and art history merged with visual research in 1969 – for ‘administrative convenience and control’ (Tickner, 2008: 75) rather than student benefit. This is interesting in terms of the nature of integration, how and why it was put into practice and the institution’s perspective on the status and identity of CCS. Tallack (2004) suggests that separating CCS from studio practice elevates the status of CCS beyond being merely a secondary and supportive element. Issues of status are discussed in Chapter 5 in relation to current practice, Bernstein’s (1971) classification and framing and Goodson’s (1993) discussions of curriculum subjects.

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The attempt to deliver a broad subject of complementary studies within art and design education in the 1960s was problematic in two ways: teaching quality and writing quantity (Thistlewood, 1993). Teaching staff were brought in from other disciplines in which they had been either unable or unwilling to teach their own subject fields; as a result, there was some ineffective teaching (Thistlewood, 1993). Furthermore, little – if any – scholarly writing was taking place. Framing a lack of scholarly writing as a ‘problem’ is indicative of a broader issue of subject status, which remains a point of debate in art education. As Writing-PAD (http://writing-pad.org) identifies, while academic writing is an assessed component in the visual field of art and design, academic fields of study do not include visual assessments. This appears as a naturalised and normative subordination of the visual languages of art and design to the formal academic written language, and is discussed in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters in relation to the status of the subject (Goodson, 1993, 1995 [1988]; Goodson, Anstead and Mangan, 1998). The broad view of complementary studies also had potential benefits, as Thistlewood (1993) acknowledges. This ‘academic’ subject within a practical subject was potentially useful in terms of widening the contextualisation of art and design – not only for the graduates themselves but also within primary and secondary education, as many of these graduates entered teaching. At this point, the most highly regarded institution for the study of art and design in Britain was the Royal College of Art (RCA), followed by the Slade School and the RA. As MacDonald (2005: 204) suggests, an art graduate from these London institutions was guaranteed a teaching job at one of the local schools of art, which were third in the apparent institutional hierarchy. The RA curriculum therefore had the potential to affect the teaching of art and design through its graduates – not only in primary and secondary schools but also in other art schools.With these changes to the provision of CCS at art school level, and the consequent effects at other levels of art education, the mid-twentieth century saw the beginning of a change in the direction of British art education. The Coldstream reforms of the 1960s bestowed Degree status on art and design in the form of the BA (Hons), while the American Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) in studio art and design was launched in the 1970s. Both cases marked the entry of art and design into the university system – and its adoption of that system’s codes and cultures. As a consequence, the research culture in art and design is relatively young; practice-based PhDs emerged in the UK in the late 1990s and the College Art Association of America (CAA) launched the Master of Fine Arts (MFA) in 1977 (Jones, 2006). The presence of art and design in the university and its associated research culture suggested parity with other (‘academic’) subjects. However, this was accompanied by restrictions and structures that are not necessarily compatible with the subject. Rather than fitting into a model designed for the sciences and ‘academic’ subjects, it would be better for arts subjects to develop their own research paradigms and articulate their own subject knowledges.

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Mid-twentieth century: defining and locating ‘the subject’ With the influence of Marion Richardson’s pedagogical experiments (1948, published posthumously) and John Dewey’s progressive education movement (1938), as well as discourse on student-centred pedagogies (Read, 1943; Lowenfeld, 1947), British art education in the early twentieth century was rooted in a studentcentred approach. Meanwhile in the USA, the student-centred approach (or ‘learning through art’: Dewey, 1902) shifted to a subject-centred approach. This was discipline-based, with sequential or linear curricular and a focus on the subject itself (Bruner, 1960; Hausman, 1963). Influenced by these American ideas, the UK began to move towards a similarly subject-centred pedagogy (a key British advocate of this was Dick Field, 1970). This new approach can be understood in the context of Bruner’s (1960) notion of the structure of the discipline – a structure that Barkan (1962) suggested consists of the artist, art historian, art critic and aesthetician – and formed the basis of discipline-based art education (DBAE), established in American schools in the 1980s and formalised by the Getty Center for Education in the Visual Arts (Greer, 1984). Along with the structure of the discipline, the structure of the medium itself prevailed in De Duve’s Bauhaus Model. These references to academic disciplines outside art and design practice are echoed in Basil Taylor’s general studies course at the RA during this period and fit with De Duve’s third shift into ‘attitude–practice–deconstruction’. As Hickman (2005) points out, prior to this the student-centred approach had been advocated by writers on art education such as Herbert Read (1943) and Viktor Lowenfeld (1947), who had been influential in both Britain and the USA. The subject-centred shift marks a point at which art and design education could be seen to encounter a form of academic drift through the provision of CCS.The ways in which this positioning has affected the nature of art and design education will be discussed in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters.

Schools The subject-centred shift is discussed in Britain in terms of ‘four domains’ (Schools Council, 1977) that form the core of art and design education: the expressive/ productive domain, the perceptual domain, the analytic/critical domain and the historical/cultural domain.These domains were developed by the National Society for Art Education (NSAE; now the National Society for Education in Art and Design [NSEAD]) as a holistic art curriculum (Allison and Hausman, 1998), yet they resulted in the divide of art and design into two attainment targets: ‘investigating and making’ and ‘knowledge and understanding’.This apparent practice/theory divide was introduced in the National Curriculum in 1992; before this, art and design was not officially divided into a dichotomy of theory-based and makingbased targets. While this does not mean that there was no ‘theory’ in art and design pre-1992, it does mean that the thinking/making divide was not embedded in the

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assessment and attainment targets. The significance of assessment in this divide is vital and is highlighted in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters. The literature on compulsory art and design education in both the UK and the USA refers to the ‘knowledge and understanding’ attainment target as ‘critical studies’ (Hickman, 2005). There was inconsistent guidance on delivering this aspect of art and design, and on what the content should be. However, this represented an attempt to achieve standards in art education; it also led to the strong view that the provision of critical studies had moved from inadequate to excessive, at the expense of studio practice (Hickman, 2005: 26). This academic drift appears to have been significant across all levels of art and design education in both the UK and USA. In the USA, this is echoed in Dwaine Greer’s (1984) DBAE, the curriculum of which is divided into four professional roles: art history, art criticism, aesthetics and studio practice. This demonstrates not only the notion of dividing and classifying the subject but also the prevalence of thinking, writing and theorising in art and design outside the studio. In the UK, while art educationalists such as Field (1970) and Taylor (1986) advocated CCS, throughout the 1980s arts educationalists were concerned that art education should be contained in the studio or art room and protected from the Thatcher government’s education reforms, including the tightening of assessment and the centralising of power over education. A key figure in this was Malcolm Ross (1986). However, the result of Ross’s proposals to shield art from competition (through examination) and accountability and to give it a discrete space and identity in the curriculum had an adverse effect. As Hulks (2003: 134) details, art departments were perceived as uncooperative and the arts became marginalised and fragmented; design was moved to technology and dance was moved to physical education. There was a simultaneous rise in critical studies programmes in schools, which many art educationalists advocated. Freedman (2003) talks of a shift away from DBAE to a sociocultural approach to art education in the USA more recently, with a focus on the interaction between making and viewing art.The discipline-based focus of the 1980s and 1990s USA art education system and its formulaic structure gave way to a focus on Visual Culture. Freedman (2003: 11) describes Visual Culture as ‘the new domain of art education’, stating that ‘art education must have less to do with information and distribution and more to do with ideas, analysis and appraisal’. Thistlewood (1993) argues that the term ‘critical studies’ is distinct from ‘complementary studies’ and that the former involves contextualisation – that is, ‘of practice, rather than parasitic on it’ (Thistlewood, 1993: 309). ‘Critical studies’ is a term currently in circulation within some art and design courses (including the case studies in this book), whereas ‘complementary studies’ is seldom (if ever) employed. Use of a standard label does not guarantee standard content or approach, however, and what is now termed critical studies by art education institutions does not necessarily reflect Thistlewood’s notion of a more practice-relevant subject. As well as a single term applying to a range of deliveries and subject contents, Bancroft (1995) highlights that similar practices are also labelled differently in the field of CCS.

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It is useful to deduce from this that, while CCS in art and design education has a history of inconsistencies and argument, the recurring issue is that its position within courses has been long debated. It is in examining its position and content that discussion on its integration (i.e. the integration of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’) can be developed.While we can theorise that ‘all practice is theory-laden, and all theory is practice-laden’ (Cunliffe, 2003), it is putting this concept into practice that is problematic.5 The pivotal shift for CCS, and for the notion of integration, occurred in the 1960s in response to the Coldstream Reports. These rendered the discipline of CCS – identifiable as art history and complementary studies – compulsory and assessable within art education. This could be perceived as marking a move from a student-centred approach (based on individual practice) to a more subject-centred approach (wherein the depersonalised theoretical and historical teachings within art and design are significant). The development of CCS into a distinct field of study accompanied this. The residue of this separation is apparent in current practices; in many institutions, CCS within art and design education at BA (Hons) level is less a history of art than a study of the theory of Visual Culture. Cultural studies, post-structuralism and French critical theory also shifted ways of talking and thinking about art. This was seen predominantly in HE but also across further education (FE). Traditionally – and up to De Duve’s third shift, in which he describes a transition to philosophy over history – art had been understood in terms of art history. This transition coincided with the rise of the subject of Visual Culture, as well as the emphasis on contemporary cultural production and critical theory rather than the Old Masters from the canon of art history. In talking about the 1980s shift to Visual Culture as an autonomous subject, Joanne Lee (2008) pointed out that the ‘[Old] Masters’ read at HE institutions were no longer Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci but rather Derrida and Saussure. Critical theory ‘Masters’, from Foucault to Baudrillard to Bourdieu, continue to inhabit the Visual Culture curriculum. The male bias has also dissipated with the rise of feminist theory; course reading lists are full of Butler, Kristeva and Sontag, among others. This rise of critical theory feeds the framing of art as a cultural production, located in and experienced through a circuit of culture. Chapters 4 and 5 discuss these ideas in relation to the data presented in this book.

Contemporary concerns Before 1992, polytechnic colleges in the UK – the institutions into which several independent art schools were previously absorbed – delivered predominantly vocational courses. After this point, polytechnics became ‘post-1992 universities’; with this development, they took on the ‘academic’ requirements of the university sector. With the rise of Visual Culture research in the USA (and more recently in the UK) comes the gradual shift to CCS as Visual Culture. This shift opens up a critical interrogation of the ideologies that underpin visual practices, equipping students with the tools to articulate and understand how the visual world regulates vision,

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and constructs identities and meanings. These tools come in the form of critical perspectives that draw from sociology, philosophy, cultural theory and other fields. The shift in emphasis from a canon-based history of art to a Visual Culture that draws upon contemporary practices has changed the current (and potentially future) positioning of CCS, as well as art and design education in general. There is both a desire to integrate CCS within the field of art and design and a recognition that the possibilities for such integration are complex. Thistlewood (1993) discusses the idea of critical studies as the subject and art practice as the support to inform critical studies. Duncum (2002) talks about Visual Culture as a transdisciplinary field in its own right. Hickman (2005) states that CCS could evolve into an independent subject – in the form of Visual Culture – much like the evolution of media studies into an independent subject. Perhaps the links with art and design practice need to be emphasised and retained in order to maintain the credibility of CCS within art and design (rather than within, and for, academia). Duncum (2002) emphasises the importance of avoiding this ‘academicism’ of art and design, so that Visual Culture does not become ‘just another academic subject’ (Duncum, 2002: 21). While the position of CCS at HE level is becoming more akin to Visual Culture, its position at FE level is broadening within the EDAD (discussed in the Introduction) and the Foundation course. As Freedman (2003) notes, the field of CCS is being reconceptualised to reflect the pedagogic and curriculum border crossing that the subject is accomplishing in a postmodern world. As well as CCS ‘border crossing’ through drawing upon a range of subjects and disciplines, it is also at times framed as a vehicle for delivering aspects of the curriculum that are not subject-specific. Darlington (2008) suggests, for example, that history of art at level 3 in FE (either as a subject in its own right, or as CCS within a post-compulsory art and design course) can facilitate the embedding of cultural diversity in the FE curriculum. The notion that CCS should or could provide an opportunity to embed cultural diversity in the post-compulsory curriculum through the teaching of art is reminiscent of Swift and Steers’ aims for critical studies in schools, described in ‘A manifesto for art in schools’ (Swift and Steers, 2006 [1999]). In this work, Swift and Steers suggest that critical studies should be less about the canon of art history and more about cultural debate. In practice (and as discussed in reference to the data in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters), this embedding does not always result in a more relevant CCS; rather, it risks positioning CCS as a vessel to carry and accommodate parts of the course that do not easily fit elsewhere, such as ‘key skills’.6 It is over a decade since pedagogues identified a ‘new art education emerging’ – one that viewed art as a cultural system rather than isolated and autonomous (Aguirre, 2004) – coinciding with the notion of a postmodern subversion of a purist subject system. The tradition of looking back to the Old Masters has apparently shifted to a more horizontal and rhizomatic view of practice and production. The Romantic ideal of the creative individual has shifted to the concept of

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creativity as collaboration: a potential for group genius over individual genius (Sawyer, 2006, 2008). Issues that were discussed through the 1990s are still relevant today. When Hughes (1993) argued that ‘what is needed is a genuinely holistic art and design curriculum which does not seek arbitrarily to divide the subject or insistently substitute the classroom for the studio’, he was referring to art courses in compulsory schooling rather than in FE or HE; however, the message is applicable across various educational levels. Rather than artificially separating (or artificially linking) theory and practice, there is scope for enabling a genuine dialogue between theory and practice in order to decipher a more authentic relationship. On the EDAD course in FE (which is the focus of the case studies presented later in this book), CCS (unit 5) was renamed ‘Contextual Influences in Art and Design’ in 2008/09.7 This replaced the previous unit title ‘Historical and Contextual Influences in Art and Design’, indicating a shift from a historical emphasis to a more contemporary CCS and implying attempts to better integrate ‘studio practice’ with ‘studio theory’ units (apparent across both FE and HE). What this integration means in practice – for tutors, students and the subject itself – is explored through this book.

Conclusion: setting the scene This chapter has provided some context to the identity and nature of CCS in order to develop a discussion on CCS in contemporary post-compulsory art and design education. Contemporary practices of CCS will be explored in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters, and are useful to consider in relation to the broad context of art education. De Duve’s three triads have been useful in locating a historical framework for the emergence of CCS. A fourth triad will be offered in Chapter 9 in light of the analysis in this book. De Duve’s triads are concerned with ‘historical ideological paradigms . . . [and] in the everyday reality of art schools things are a lot more complex, more subtle, more ambiguous’ (De Duve, 1994: 30). A further complexity lies in the existence of art and design outside the school, college and university. Perhaps more than other curricular subjects, art and design has a living presence in spaces that are not labelled as formal education sites, such as galleries, museums, arts centres and artist studios – as well as in other, less formal, public spaces. Within these spaces, art and design is increasingly taking the ‘educational turn’ that has been discussed in curatorial practice (see Rogoff, 2008; O’Neil and Wilson, 2010). It has been suggested that this educational or ‘pedagogical turn’ invites a reading of education as ‘a form of art making . . . [which] constitutes a relatively new medium’ (Podesva, 2007). This turn is significant with regard to the training of art teachers and the identities of teaching staff in art and design, highlighting the difference between the art tutor as art practitioner and the art tutor as education practitioner. This will be discussed further in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters.

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Whether perceived as separate to or inseparable from art and design – or varying degrees of both – this chapter has demonstrated that CCS is not monolithic. This can be understood in terms of the history of CCS as well as its teachers and practitioners. Within art and design, CCS was historically framed as a point of tension and difference. It simultaneously assumed a flexible role that enabled it to be moulded to staff specialisms and resource availability. CCS staff range from art practitioners to theorists, educators and a combination of these. As this chapter has highlighted, there have been difficulties identifying and framing CCS; whether it has been perceived as a distinct ‘Department of Words’ (MacDonald, 2005) or diluted within the course, CCS has a fragmented trajectory within art education. The position of CCS and its somewhat unstable identity are similar to some of the problems associated with the history of education within the broader subject of education. As Goodson (1995 [1988]) identifies, history of education as an academic subject has two key difficulties. The first is the lack of specialisation among lecturing staff, who are experienced teachers but not necessarily experienced in historical teaching and research. The second is that the history of education does not have an established methodology and content; it has been criticised for delivering a programme of ‘acts and facts’ (Seaborne, 1971). Although there are broader interpretations of this subject, there are some parallels between the history of education and CCS. This chapter has highlighted the national restructuring of art and design education at HE level with Coldstream in the mid-twentieth century, the issue of staffing and the early identity of CCS as a discrete historical account of art. These issues are also reflected in history of education within the broader subject of education as a ‘practical’ or vocational field of study. According to Goodson (1993, 1995 [1988]), the point at which a university develops a disciplinary definition of a new subject is the point at which that subject acquires status. This is where ambiguity emerges for both CCS and history of education; both appear to be sub-subjects of broader fields. As discussed in Chapter 5, Goodson identifies a link between high status and pure, single academic subjects – in contrast to multidisciplinary, integrated subjects. This issue of status for CCS, and for art and design in relation to CCS, recurs throughout the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters. In British art and design education, formalised CCS was first written into postcompulsory education at HE level with the Coldstream reforms in the 1960s, in pre-degree post-compulsory education in the early 1990s and in schools in the late 1990s. Within pre-degree post-compulsory education, this occurred with the introduction of the General National Vocational Qualification (GNVQ) in 1993.8 With the GNVQ came a CCS element designed into the course, giving ‘theory’ a designated position within post-compulsory art and design education. In schools, CCS was written into the National Curriculum in 1999, stating that students should be able to ‘compare and comment on ideas, methods and approaches used in their own work and others’ work, relating these to the context in which the work was made’ (DfEE, 1999: 38–9). That said, the 1992 British National Curriculum attainment targets were ‘investigating and making’ and ‘knowledge

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and understanding’, demonstrating a divide between making and thinking, practice and ‘theory’. In 2000, revisions to the National Curriculum collapsed this divide into one single attainment target – ‘knowledge, skills and understanding’ – a gesture towards a more integrated relationship between ‘theory’ and ‘practice’. The next chapter explores the theory/practice divide in some detail, focusing specifically on post-compulsory education.

Notes 1 Some of the most recent debate took place at the ICA in London in January 2014: ‘The Art School: The Future for “Theory”?’ (https://www.ica.org.uk/whats-on/art-schoolfuture-theory). 2 Reynolds’ teachings are outlined in Discourses (1769). 3 Redgrave and Cole founded this twenty-three-stage National Course of Art Instruction in 1852. 4 The Bauhaus was influential across Europe and the USA and staff and students at the Bauhaus went on to work at art schools in these places; for example, Josef and Anni Albers were employed at Black Mountain College in 1934. 5 Cunliffe’s article was published in 1996 in JADE and then updated in 2003, suggesting the longevity and significance of this issue. 6 This is the situation with one of the five case studies: Wrickford. 7 Note that the EDAD was the NDAD (National Diploma in Art and Design) before 2010. 8 GNVQs later became Advanced Vocational Certificates of Education (AVCEs) and then BTECs; it is from the BTEC EDAD that case study data are referenced through the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters.

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Chambers, E. (2008) Paper presented at ‘Learning from the Old Masters’ conference, Plymouth University, October. Cunliffe, L. (2003) ‘Connectivity for showing and saying across differences in art education’, International Journal of Art & Design Education, 22(3): 305–15. Daichendt, G. J. (2010) Artist Teacher: A Philosophy for Creating and Teaching. Bristol: Intellect. Darlington, M. (2008) ‘Contrasting views: embedding cultural diversity in the FE art and design curriculum’, Journal of Further and Higher Education, 32(3): 263–74. De Duve, T. (1994) ‘When form has become attitude – and beyond’, in De Ville, N. and Foster, S. (eds), The Artist and the Academy: Issues in Fine Art Education and the Wider Cultural Context. Southampton: John Hansard Gallery, pp. 23–40. Dewey, J. (1902) The Child and the Curriculum. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Dewey, J. (1938) Experience and Education. New York: Macmillan. Df EE (Department for Education and Employment) (1999) The National Curriculum for England: Art and Design. London: Stationery Office and QCA. Duncum, P. (2002) ‘Visual culture art education: why, what and how’, International Journal of Art & Design Education, 21(1): 14–23. Edwards, R. and Usher, R. (1994) Postmodernism and Education: Different Voices, Different Worlds. London: Routledge. Eisner, E. (2002) Arts and the Creation of Mind. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Field, D. (1970) Change in Art Education. London and New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Freedman, K. (2003) ‘Recent shifts in US art education’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Issues in Art and Design Teaching. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 8–18. Gombrich, E. H. (1950) The Story of Art. New York: Phaidon. Goodson, I. (1993) School Subjects and Curriculum Change. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I., Anstead, C. J. and Mangan, J. M. (1998) Subject Knowledge: Readings for the Study of School Subjects. London: The Falmer Press. Greer, W. D. (1984) ‘Discipline-based art education: approaching art as a subject of study’, Studies in Art Education, 25(4): 212–18. Hausman, J. (1963) ‘Research on teaching the visual arts’, in Gage, N. I. (ed.), Handbook of Research on Teaching. Chicago, IL: Rand McNally and Co., pp. 1101–17. Hickman, R. (2005) Critical Studies in Art and Design Education. Bristol: Intellect. HMSO (1960) First Report of the National Advisory Council on Art Education. First Coldstream report. London: HMSO. HMSO (1962) Second Report of the National Advisory Council on Art Education: Vocational Courses in Colleges and Schools of Art. Second Coldstream report. London: HMSO. HMSO (1964) Third Report of the National Advisory Council on Art Education: Post-Diploma Studies in Art and Design. Third Coldstream report. London: HMSO. HMSO (1970a) Joint Report of the NACAD: The Structure of Art and Design Education in the Further Education Sector. London: HMSO. HMSO (1970b) Second Report of the National Council for Diplomas in Art and Design. London: HMSO. Hughes, A. (1993) ‘Don’t judge pianists by their hair’, Journal of Art and Design Education, 12(3): 279–89. Hulks, D. (2003) ‘Measuring artistic performance: the assessment debate and art education’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Issues in Art and Design Teaching. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 134–42.

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Jeremiah, D. (2008) Paper presented at ‘Learning from the Old Masters’ conference, Plymouth University, October. Jones, T. E. (2006) ‘The studio-art doctorate in America’, Art Journal, 65(2): 124–7. Klar, W. H. and Dullaway, T. M. (1930) The Appreciation of Pictures. New York: BrownRobertson Co. Inc. Lee, J. (2008) ‘“Without a master”: a case study in contemporary art education’. Paper presented at ‘Learning from the Old Masters’ conference, Plymouth University, October. Lowenfeld, V. (1947) Creative and Mental Growth. New York: Macmillan. MacDonald, S. (1970) History and Philosophy of Art Education. Cambridge: Lutterworth Press. MacDonald, S. (2005) A Century of Art and Design Education: From Arts and Crafts to Conceptual Art. Cambridge: Lutterworth Press. MacLeod, K. and Holdridge, L. (2005) ‘Related objects of thought: art and thought, theory and practice’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 143–53. Madoff, S. H. (ed.) (2009) Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. O’Neil, P. and Wilson, M. (2010) Curating and the Educational Turn. London: Open Editions. Parsons, L. (1999) ‘Critical theory and visual practice in the art school’, International Journal of Art & Design Education, 18(2): 149–53. Podesva, K. L. (2007) ‘A pedagogical turn: brief notes on education as art’, Fillip 6, Summer. Available at: http://fillip.ca/content/a-pedagogical-turn. Read, H. (1943) Education Through Art. London: Faber and Faber. Richardson, M. (1948) Art and the Child. London: University of London Press. Rogoff, I. (2008) ‘The educational turn in curating’, e-flux Journal, 1(1). Available at: http:// www.e-flux.com/journal/view/18. Ross, M. (1986) Assessment in Arts Education. London: Pergamon Press. Sawyer, K. (2006) Explaining Creativity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sawyer, R. K. (2008) Group Genius: The Creative Power of Collaboration. New York: Basic Books. Schools Council (1977) Report of the 18+ Art Syllabus Steering Group. London: Schools Council. Seaborne, M. (1971) ‘The history of education’, in Tibbie, J. W. (ed.), An Introduction to the Study of Education. London: Sage, p. 75. Sennett, R. (2008) The Craftsman. London: Penguin Books. Swift, J. and Steers, J. (2006 [1999]) ‘A manifesto for art in schools’, in Hardy, T. (ed.), Art Education in a Postmodern World. Bristol: Intellect. Tallack, M. (2004) ‘Critical studies: values at the heart of education?’, in Hickman, R. (ed.), Art Education 11–18: Meaning, Purpose and Direction, 2nd edition. London: Continuum. Taylor, R. (1986) Education for Art: Critical Response and Development. London: Longman. Thistlewood, D. (1993) ‘Curricular development in critical studies’, Journal of Art and Design Education, 12(3): 305–16. Tickner, L. (2008) Hornsey 1968: The Art School Revolution. London: Frances Lincoln. Whitford, W. G. (1929) An Introduction to Art Education. New York: D. Appleton and Co. Wien, I. (2008) ‘The use of art history by artist-teachers’. Paper presented at ‘Learning from the Old Masters’ conference, Plymouth University, October. Williams, R. (2009) Art Theory: An Historical Introduction. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell.

2 THEORY/PRACTICE Tales of turbulence

Introduction The two dominant sites in an art and design course are the studio and the lecture theatre. These spaces typically construct and maintain discrete ‘learning cultures’ or ‘communities of practice’, in the terms of Lave and Wenger’s (1991) ‘situated learning’. Throughout the course, students learn and rehearse the cultural codes that these environments generate and reinforce. In doing so they progress from being ‘legitimate peripheral participators’ or ‘newcomers’ to becoming ‘full participants’ or ‘master practitioners’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991). These concepts are discussed in relation to the case studies in Chapter 5; here, they are a useful reminder of the socially constructed nature of these spaces and their uses. The constructions of knowledge that take place in the lecture theatre are distinct from those that take place in the studio. These constructions are embedded in two distinct aspects of the course: CCS and practice, respectively. Knowledges within CCS (located in the lecture theatre) are often associated with the theoretical, academic, written and codifiable, whereas knowledges within art and design practice (located in the studio) might be understood as material, visual, live, embodied and tacit. These spaces are identified through socially constructed codes; far from being mere names of spaces, ‘the studio’ and ‘the lecture theatre’ represent distinct ways of thinking and learning. This is discussed in Maitland (1991) with regard to the studio (in this case, the architecture studio); in relation to the lecture theatre, see Bourdieu and Passeron (1994). More broadly, these divisions are products of an artificial theory/practice divide that has been long debated in art and art education discourse. This chapter proposes that the theory/practice divide, in which ‘theory’ is conceptualised as Other to practice, is artificial – and yet is frequently reinforced in art education. The chapter proposes reconceptualising both ‘theory’ and ‘practice’,

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based on the view that ‘theory’ is a broad term encompassing a range of ‘practices’. As such, it is ‘theory’ itself that is unpicked rather than one of its specific manifestations (that is, CCS). As with all binaries, issues of status and hierarchy are embroiled in the theory/practice divide; this chapter offers suggestions for reconceptualising this relationship. The constructed dualisms of theory/practice, academic/vocational and head/ hand are residual in curricula and policy, despite being widely recognised as more complex than their neat binary structure suggests (discussed in relation to current practice in Chapters 4 and 5). Intellectual, complex, verbal and abstract thought are traditionally awarded high status – as opposed to the manual, concrete and unreflective thought of the ‘lower orders’ (Goodson, 1989, with reference to Shapin and Barnes, 1976). This has been reinforced institutionally in education systems. Despite art schools being absorbed into universities and the growing discourse around new materialism and thinking emerging through making, the educational path to university seems to persist as one that prepares students for entry to an institution ‘unequivocally for the head more than the hands . . . training the mind’ (Goodson, 1989: 141). Pre-university educators are under pressure to prepare students for the university culture of training in ‘academic’ subjects and languages – and the university’s expectation that entry-level students possess certain competencies in these areas. In pre-degree art education, CCS becomes the provider of this academic language required for progression to university, and it subjects art education to ‘academic drift’ (an issue examined in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters). Goodson, Anstead and Mangan (1998) draw a connection between the mental/ manual division of labour and the institutionalisation of this division in the curriculum. To build on Goodson (1995 [1988]), this division is institutionalised not only in the curriculum but also within subjects themselves. It has been embedded into the subject of art and design via the theory/practice binary. It is apparent from recent debates over the English Baccalaureate (EBacc) and STEM subjects1 that the mental/manual division continues to exist in the British education system; however – more positively – it is perpetually and ardently challenged through academic discourse and the press (see Introduction).

Discourse: the nineties, the noughties and now Theory is far less contained and less static than the neat theory/practice binary implies. It is not novel to suggest that the divide itself is artificial and constructed. Sennett (2008) discussed divisions of labour establishing an artificial divide and argued for making as thinking. Prior to that, Hetherington (1994) discussed the theory/ practice (or theorist/practitioner) divide as a late-nineteenth-century Modernist invention. Earlier arguments that looking/making and thinking are intertwined can be found in Arnheim’s (1969: 13) suggestion that ‘the cognitive operations called thinking are . . . the essential ingredients of perception itself ’ and Heidegger’s

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‘All the work of the hand is rooted in thinking’ (Heidegger, 1977: 357). However, the debate has been particularly rife in the past three decades. Through the 1990s there was a prevalence of discourse on the incompatibility of theory with practice – as though the inception of theory occurred in the 1960s with the Coldstream reforms, when ‘theory’ landed as an alien invader in the art school. The theory/practice binary was perpetuated by views such as ‘artistic work is the very contrary of theory’ (Wilde, 1999: 52) and ‘[prior to the 1960s, British art education] did very well without theory’ (Allison and Hausman, 1998: 122). As previously mentioned, this was the period in which polytechnics in the UK became universities; within this context, a wave of antipathy for theory in British art education discourse swelled. Suchin (1998: 104) suggests that, even when art educators attempt to characterise theory as significant, they get caught up in framing it as ‘a necessary evil to be confronted in order to obtain a higher degree’. Despite aversion towards it in art education discourse, ‘theory’ was ubiquitous in the 1990s and served the contemporary art world well during this period – particularly the Young British Artists (YBAs), who were exhibiting internationally and raising the prominence of the British art scene. Discussing Matthew Collings’ 1997 list of the most influential YBAs, Wes Hill (2016) pointed out that the majority of the movement’s most visible artists were graduates of Goldsmiths College, University of London – an institution renowned for its focus on cultural theory. Furthermore, Goldsmiths taught a cultural theory that was multidisciplinary and shifting, borrowing from performance studies and media studies (Hill, 2016: 155). In contrast to the idea of theory as abstract and detached, then, the YBAs merged theory with practice in a ‘mixture of art, cultural theory, fashion and advertising’ (Hill, 2016: 155). Art theory is thus no less in flux than art practice; it is emergent and generative. Waves of discourse throughout the 2000s dispelled the theory myth more ardently, such as Eisner’s (2002a) idea of practice as thought, MacLeod and Holdridge’s (2005) argument that art is thought and practice is theory and Meskimmon’s (2004) examination of the notion of thinking-in-making. Alongside these proposals for rethinking theory, a language for talking about art-making more holistically emerged. The aforementioned texts demonstrate that theory is not isolated in abstract detachment from practice, but rather is just as responsive as practice to the possibility of being reformed and remade. Despite discourse on corporeal theory and new materialism and arguments for recognising complexity and rigour in art practice and art education, the subject of art and design is perpetually required to justify itself as a credible one within the education system. In the mid-1990s, Brighton highlighted art and design’s struggle to be perceived as a ‘serious [subject that is] not . . . a therapeutic activity nor a conceptless gush of pure visuality’ (Brighton, 1994: 37). Outside the field of art and design, elements of this misconception prevail. Discourse throughout the 1990s and 2000s highlighted that the position, role and identity of theory are in flux and without a fixed abode. This continues into contemporary discourse. For example, the 2014 Association of Art Historians (AAH)

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conference included a panel entitled ‘The Art School: The Future for “Theory”?’. The panel was withdrawn prior to the conference due to lack of submissions. However, rather than the topic of ‘theory’ in art education suffering from a broad lack of interest, it seems that the topic was unpopular due to its placement in an art historians’ conference; when the panel organisers produced a symposium at the Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) in London under the same title, it received significant interest. The future for ‘theory’, then, is apparently no longer in the field of art history. In 2009, Pujol suggested that ‘one of the issues that needs to be reconsidered is the traditional separation of art history, art theory and studio courses’ (Pujol, 2009: 6). These divides represent, and are rehearsed in, constructions of the curriculum within education systems. The proposal here is that ‘theory’ is rethought as less parasitic and more symbiotic in its position within art and design. This is not to say that a discrete CCS is obsolete or inconceivable within such a view, but rather to demonstrate some of the ways in which ‘theory’ emerges in practice more broadly, rather than being confined to a designated curriculum space.

Academic drift in detached theory The climate of increasing practice-based research in the UK and USA brings with it increasing opportunities to notice the knowledges and ‘theory’ embedded in, and emerging from, practice. In the field of post-compulsory art and design education, however, some students and staff remain concerned that ‘theory’ is responsible for creating ‘academic drift’ within a course, with abstract and detached theory overshadowing practice.The fear that Williams highlighted in the 1990s – that ‘they [art education institutions] will become the ideal environment for the art theorist to flourish, toying with the fundamentals of the subject without responsibility of the practice’ (Williams, 1994: 25) – may resonate with staff members who experience theory as the ‘corporate raider’ (Biggs, 2005: 125) in their institutions. Academicisation through a ‘corporate raider’ (Biggs, 2005: 125) can be seen as an attempt to shape art education to the mould of a Modernist education system. One fear is that such academicisation leaves art education at risk of being isolated from the field of art and design outside educational institutions, so that art education ‘abandons its subject for some fashionable educational self-reliance’ (Williams, 1994: 25). This phenomenon can be seen in discipline-based art education (DBAE) in the USA and the post-Coldstream reforms in the UK.With this comes the potential for uniformity through the focus of the course being the purpose of assessment. Eisner (2002a: 6) talks about schools having an industrial culture, in which results drive the school system and curriculum uniformity and ‘best methods’ are practised without attention to context. Eisner locates the start of this process with the Enlightenment and the corresponding shift in ways of seeing and representing the world: ‘the shift was from attention to the timely to attention to the timeless, from an emphasis on the oral to an emphasis on the written, from attention to the particular to the pursuit of the universal’ (Eisner, 2002a: 7, in reference to Toulmin, 1990).

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Using theory: three models for practice As with all binaries, the theory/practice dualism sets up an unequal relationship. The division of theory and practice as such produces two obvious models for understanding art-making: theory-led (in which the practice is an interpretation of the theory) and practice-led (in which the theory is an interpretation of the practice). Both will be familiar to teachers and students of art and design; however, they can be more formulaic and prescribed than integrative practice. In the first model, the practice interprets the theory through image and material; practice becomes a translation of theory. Students following this model might start with a theory (in the form of a written text or a theory introduced in a lecture, say) and then produce work as a direct response to this.This model is linear and contains theory in an isolated space away from (and as an antecedent to) practice. It supports predictable outcomes; the theory (or thought) directs the receptive hand to manipulate the mute materials. It is as though the thought, the hand and the matter are detached from one another in this model; they are ordered and predictable, but also sit in a hierarchical structure. In contrast, the second model starts with practice and ends with theory. The student makes work and retrospectively applies theory to talk about it; theory is used to interpret practice. As with the first model, this model is linear and one-directional. It frames theory and practice as estranged cohabitants rather than existing in a symbiotic relationship. The two models proposed thus far – familiar approaches that students take to ‘using’ theory – perpetuate a theory/practice binary. A third model, which may be closer to the aims of staff teaching in art and design, dismantles this binary. Where the two linear models position theory and practice as divided, the third might position theory and practice as developing together and in dialogue. Where the first two models are vertical and one-directional, the third is horizontal, with offshoots and changes of direction. In this third model a student might begin with a concept, theory or extract from a written text, followed by a period of experimentation with materials, visuals and other areas of practice. From here, more ideas are generated and theories and written texts are explored, which in turn feed into the next stages of making or practice, in which more ideas and theories emerge and lead to other readings and ideas – and so on. This model is a to and fro between theory and practice; the material or practice itself has some agency in facilitating ‘flexible purposing’ (Dewey, 1938), whereby the direction of the work is open to shift and grow throughout the making process, or the process of practice. As Steers suggests, Dewey’s concept can be understood as ‘a willingness to surrender to the unanticipated possibilities of a work as it unfolds’ (Steers 2013: 18). In this way, ‘flexible purposing’ remains a useful concept – particularly in relation to contemporary discussion on new materialism, wherein materials have agency and the work is not mute, but rather in dialogue with the maker. This third model is, therefore, a dialogic relationship between maker and materials and between theory and practice.

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This symbiotic model of working is embedded in art and design practice; while Dewey alluded to it in 1938, it is more broadly articulated in contemporary discourse. For example, Pallasmaa suggests that the artist ‘learns the skill of cooperating with one’s work . . . allowing the work to make its suggestions and take its own unexpected turns and moves’ (Pallasmaa, 2009: 111). Fisher and Fortnum propose that ‘artists often begin doing something without knowing how it will turn out. In practice this translates as thinking through doing’ (Fisher and Fortnum, 2013: 7), and – most fittingly – in Nelson’s (2013) epistemological model for practice as research, ‘theory . . . is not prior to practice, functioning to inform it, but theory and practice are rather “imbricated within each other” in praxis’ (Nelson, 2013: 62). The to and fro of theory and practice in this third model leads to a ‘double articulation between theory and practice, whereby theory emerges from a reflexive practice at the same time as practice is informed by theory’ (Barrett and Bolt, 2010 [2007]: 29). In keeping with the ideas of new materialism, this model is structurally more of a rhizome than a taproot; practice, theory and artist are in a state of interplay: ‘we realise that materials often lead . . . People are material, too, after all; our materiality renders us in the mix’ (Dobson, 2013: 139). Davey suggests that ‘theory serves as a midwife to practice’ (Davey, 2006: 21) – but rather than theory uncovering what is already being created in practice, I am proposing a structure of co-creation.

Not knowing The proposed third model involves a degree of risk and moments of ‘not knowing’. The idea that the material work has agency – that the process of making is not merely ‘done to’ the art object, but rather is dialogic between maker, material, theories and ideas – is at the heart of this model. In talking about her practice, Paula Rego illustrates this notion of the matter or medium as autonomous with agency: ‘the painting is a thing on its own, apart from you . . . When I’ve finished it’s telling me something’ (Paula Rego, interviewed in Fortnum, 2007: 155). That is not to say that, because the material itself is active, the artist is not; rather, theory, practice and artist are all implicated in this model. It is a model against positing theory and practice in a dichotomous relationship – not least because the theory/practice binary ‘seems to imply that you must switch your brain off in order to make art or design (or whatever) and then switch it on again to reflect on what you have made’ (Jones, 2006: 127). Knowledge in the third model is embodied and not always easy to codify. This model is dialogic in that it is about the conversations between theory and practice, and rhizomatic in that it takes unexpected turns and therefore requires a ‘capacity to tolerate uncertainty, vagueness, lack of definition and precision, momentary illogic and open-endedness . . . [so that] one gradually learns the skill of cooperating with one’s work, and allowing the work to make its suggestions’ (Pallasmaa, 2009: 111). In keeping with Pallasmaa, the thinking process in this third model is itself rethought; it is no longer about dictating to the hand and the material, but instead is in

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collaboration and dialogue. An additional form of knowledge is activated when this occurs, which I suggest is a way to understand and articulate ‘intuition’. Before exploring this, though, a word on knowledge.

Tacit knowledge This chapter began with the suggestion that there are two dominant sites within art education at post-compulsory level: the lecture theatre and the studio. Knowledge in the studio is generated and manifested in making processes, design ideas and materials handling, as well as through dialogue and exchange, and is often hidden or difficult to measure. Knowledge in the lecture theatre, on the other hand, is imparted by the orator, is clearly organised, visible and codifiable, and is often associated with ‘theory’. Despite what is happening within the minds of individual students during the lecture theatre experience, a clear set of knowledges is imparted. While the lecture theatre supports ‘codified knowledge’ (Ryle, 1949) that is detached from practice, the studio is a space in which tacit knowledge (Polanyi, 1969) is embedded. The mixing of colour, handling of materials and processes of making are imbued with knowledge that is not always easy to identify and articulate. It is embodied and appears to be semi-conscious or unconscious. This tacit knowledge comes through experience and understanding; it is a ‘knowledge-in-action’ (Schon, 1983). Although not easy to articulate or to explicitly teach – and despite how it may appear from a distance – tacit knowledge is not without thinking. It is the manifestation of experience, teachings, learning, understanding and practice, all of which engage cognition. The ‘thinking’ of tacit knowledge is an embodied and close-up thinking, in contrast to the more easily assessable codified knowledge that is disconnected from practice. To use Bernstein’s terms, codified knowledge is ‘tightly classified’ and, when delivered in a lecture theatre format, ‘tightly framed’ (Bernstein, 1971). It is also attributed with status, value and intelligence. But this does not make one form of knowledge less ‘intelligent’ than another. On the contrary, tacit knowledge manifests through complexity and expertise. Nelson (2013: 46) argues that tacit knowledge is too close to be fully recognised and that it is important to articulate this knowledge. He suggests a move away from the proximal in order to find ways to articulate tacit knowledges in, for example, verbal and written modes. Although it may be met with fears that art work will be confined to alien language systems or practice will be overshadowed by ‘theory’, this is an excellent aim in order to communicate the rigour of these knowledges outside the discipline. This is a means to enable the sharing of knowledge by rendering it accessible and open up possibilities for collaboration with other disciplines through some shared language. Far from being a threat to the identity of practice, these knowledges and languages of ‘theory’ are already embedded in practice itself (as has been argued) and useful in order to expand arts practice. The discussion so far contributes to breaking down the theory/practice divide by arguing that practice is not a passive recipient of theory and theory

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is not abstract and detached from practice. While explicit, codified knowledge and thinking are typically associated with ‘theory’, knowledge and thinking are equally integral to practice – but often tacit. A range of art discourse – not exclusively contemporary – proposes the embodied nature of practice, the tacit knowledge therein and the broadening of thinking to encompass bodily and material processes (rather than detached cognitive processes). Among others, we might call upon Heidegger’s (1977: 352) argument that ‘all the work of the hand is rooted in thinking’, Bourdieu’s (1990: 61) proposal for a ‘feel for the game’ (a way of understanding embodied knowledge as ‘a mastery acquired by experience of the game, and one which works outside conscious control and discourse’) or Carter’s (2004) ‘material thinking’, in which practice and conceptual thinking intersect and strategies are not predetermined but rather emerge in response to the game’s action. Bourdieu’s ‘mastery’ works outside conscious control and discourse; it can be understood as ‘tacit’. How, then, can this tacit knowledge be articulated? Nelson’s (2013: 46) suggestion that tacit knowledge can be understood and articulated by standing back, in a move towards critical reflection, proposes a ‘standing back’ that is in contrast to the notion of tacit knowledge, rendering it a complex task. Although there are no ‘how to’ guides for this, models of strategic critical reflection can be found in critical theory itself, i.e. theory that is prevalent in Visual Culture. In Gender Trouble, Butler (1990) describes two distinguishable yet entangled terms: gender performativity and gender performance. If the first can be understood as somewhat unconscious, the second is a more conscious act. The performative is proximal, habitual and seemingly ‘unthinking’; it is embodied and unquestioned. In these terms, it has the structure of tacit knowledge described previously in relation to studio practice. Performance, conscious. In this sense, it has the potential to be critical, reflexive and strategic. Butler’s model is a starting point here, rather than a direct framework, for considering the articulation of what is otherwise embodied – and tacit. This is a framework of strategically standing at a distance in order to critically reflect and make sense of what is repeatedly performed and faithfully acted unconsciously, or seemingly ‘without thinking’. Elliot Eisner provides another starting point for articulating tacit knowledge (and one more directly related to art education). Eisner (2002b) was moving towards the idea of articulating tacit knowledge and practice when he suggested that curriculum activities be designed to address the need ‘to help students learn to ask not only what someone is saying, but how someone has constructed an argument, a musical score, or a visual language’ (Eisner, 2002b: 9–10). If from here we also develop ways for students to articulate how they have constructed their work – to find a way to clearly express what is usually tacitly experienced – we are broadening language. As Eisner says, ‘the limits of our cognition are not defined by the limits of our language’ (Eisner, 2002b: 12). While these frameworks offer some points to consider, I propose that a useful way to demystify and begin to express the tacit is to articulate the ways in which intuition – a reified term in art and design – can be understood and exercised.

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Intuition as knowledge Explicit and tacit knowledge are not in opposition to one another (Bolt, 2004); rather, one has a language that is broadly comprehensive and recognisable (and therefore assessable according to uniform criteria) while the other is not easy to translate into a common language (and might require a rethinking of assessment criteria). Both are present within any art and design course. While ‘theory’ as CCS in the lecture theatre is typically aligned to the explicit and codifiable in terms of knowledge exchange and (essay) outcome, ‘practice’ supports and generates knowledges that are less codifiable and more tacit. Subject areas that rely on tacit knowledges (predominantly creative subjects) can appear from the outside to be devoid of knowledge – rather than containing, generating and relying upon as much ‘knowledge’ as any other subject. Their knowledge structures may not be codifiable in the same way as those of ‘academic’ subjects; however, this does not reduce their intellectual rigour. This section attempts to demonstrate some of that tacit, hidden rigour by demystifying the concept of ‘intuition’. Without this demystification, intuition (and the associated ‘not knowing’) risks becoming rarefied and venerated. At worst, ‘intuition’ in relation to creative practice is used to reinforce the myth of art and design as unthinking (where ‘feeling’ is identified in opposition to ‘thinking’). Framing intuition in this way fuels the Romantic myth of the artist and detracts from the skill, expertise and rigour in which creative practice is rooted – the product of which is intuition. It is through integrating theory and practice that ‘intuitive practice’ emerges; that is, intuition can be understood as the manifestation of theory and practice skilfully, rigorously and expertly intersecting. Brighton pointed to this over twenty years ago by suggesting that ‘[art] is a theoretical, intuitive and a material activity’ in which intuition emerges through the repeated integration of theory and practice (1994: 34). Both the intelligence in making and the synthesis of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ are well documented. John Dunnigan (2013) describes the creative process as a union of making and thinking, which he terms ‘thingking’. Utilising tacit knowledge, ‘thingking’ ‘connects critical making and critical thinking and relies on embodied knowledge, practice and research . . . To make something you need expertise, internalised skills, familiarity with material properties, and the tools to manipulate them’ (Dunnigan, 2013: 95–6). Demonstrating the intelligence of making, Dunnigan here describes a rigorous process; a depth of learning and understanding far removed from unthinking or unknowing. When thinking and making, theory and practice and head and hand are understood not in opposition but as co-dependent, symbiotic and intersecting, a flow emerges. This flow facilitates the artist’s creative hunch or intuition and is a product of the sophisticated integration of thinking and making rather than a mysterious untutored essence. Eisner (2002a: 9) utilises ideas on hunch and intuition in his notion of artistically rooted intelligence, which he bases on the artist seeing and experiencing the qualitative relationships that emerge in the work and trying to achieve a

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‘rightness of fit’. Eisner gives the example of a composition ‘feeling’ right to demonstrate that modes of thinking in the arts integrate feeling and thinking. He suggests that, through practice, one becomes ‘qualitatively intelligent’ (Eisner, 2002a: 9). This demonstrates that artistic ‘knowledge’ can be located at the intersection of theory and practice, whereby ‘intuitive’ decisions in the creative process are actually manifestations of expertise and the experience of learning, applying and rehearsing skill. The architect and writer Pallasmaa talks about his work with painters and sculptors and their reliance on ‘the silent wisdom of the body and the hand’ (Pallasmaa, 2009: 117). In the context of this discussion, such wisdom could be deemed more silenced than silent. It is tacit and embodied, and therefore not codifiable; however, it is no less static or mute than the matter or material itself. The lack of a common language to articulate such knowledge or ‘wisdom’ renders it susceptible to being hidden or muted. Perhaps it is the attempt to articulate such knowledge and wisdom that opens up the possibilities of it having a voice. These ideas are pertinent in the context of new materialism and the agency of matter (for example, see Kristeva, 1984; Barrett and Bolt, 2010 [2007]). Intuition is conflated not only with the mysterious but also (and relatedly) with ‘not knowing’. Fisher and Fortnum talk about ‘artists following a hunch rather than a rationale’ (Fisher and Fortnum, 2013: 7); however, as they demonstrate, this hunch (or intuition) is rooted in rigour and expertise. It is a fallacy to think that successful ‘not knowing’ does not come from a lot of work, knowledge and experience; and yet the myth persists among many students. At best, it is a knowing ‘not knowing’ that might involve the exploration of materials, critical reflection and consciousness. As Jarvis (2007) suggests, art work ‘can appear to us to be “effortless” and to somehow belie the amount of preparatory work which has gone before’ (Jarvis, 2007: 202). However, in relation to contemporary painter Alex Katz, Jarvis states that ‘it is precisely because of the amount of preparation that Katz is able to make, that the final performance can be an intuitive and spontaneous exercise’ (2007: 210). Not knowing is therefore strategically employed. Intuitive practice (which is what ‘not knowing’ appears to produce) is made possible through expertise and skill along the lines of what Melrose (2009) describes as an ‘expert-intuitive leap’.

Concluding thoughts I propose that understanding intuition as the product of expertise and skill is an important model for staff to demonstrate to students, as well as for policy-makers to recognise. There exists a Romantic perception that the subject of art and design is shrouded in mystery; competence in the subject is assumed to be unexplainable (and thus unteachable) and an ability to detect competence a ‘natural gift’. Unfortunately, post-compulsory education does not always dismiss this myth; at worst, students hang on to it and tutors perpetuate it. To dispel the myth, I propose developing a means of articulating the knowledges and rigour of art education in an accessible way. This is not to undermine the specificity of art and design but rather

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to communicate that specificity – not only to elevate the status of art and design, but also so that its knowledges can collaborate with other subjects. This chapter has demonstrated that a discussion of the relationship between theory and practice is useful for thinking further about ‘intuition’ and for demystifying this term (and ‘the unknown’) in order to define some of the language of art and design. For the broader aims of the book, this discussion goes some way to identify what the integration of CCS in art and design education might ‘look’ like: intuition is one sign. Rather than focusing on CCS, this chapter has looked more broadly at ‘theory’ to indicate that ‘theory’ is not confined to the lecture theatre but rather is embedded throughout the course. While this chapter has unpicked ‘theory’ more generally and demonstrated how it can be perceived as ‘integrated’, the following chapter untangles ‘integration’ and discusses the integration of the specific manifestation of theory known as CCS. The Cartesian system of binary opposites persists in art education structures. This is not to say that CCS in a discrete form is not useful, nor that a fully integrated CCS is best practice (particularly where ‘theory’ is collapsed into CCS). Rather, I make the case for ‘theory and art as symbiotic, conceptual categories that gain meaning only in relation to each other. Art and theory draw upon each other in order to develop’ (Dafiotis, 2013: 143). While CCS is one space for theoretical provision, theory infuses the whole of art education. It is necessary to perceive theory as generative rather than static, ubiquitous rather than isolated. Such a shift opens up possibilities for perceiving the theory contained within a discrete curriculum space (labelled ‘CCS’) as open to being part of the symbiosis proposed here.

Note 1  STEM subjects are science, technology, engineering and maths.

References Allison, B. and Hausman, J. (1998) ‘The limits of theory in art education’, International Journal of Art & Design Education, 17(2): 121–7. Arnheim, R. (1969) Visual Thinking. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Barrett, E. and Bolt, B. (eds) (2010 [2007]) Practice as Research: Approaches to Creative Arts Enquiry. London and New York: I. B. Tauris. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Biggs, I. (2005) ‘Peripheral vision’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 115–35. Bolt, B. (2004) Art Beyond Representation: The Performative Power of the Image. London: I. B. Tauris. Bourdieu, P. (1990) The Logic of Practice. Cambridge: Polity Press. Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. C. (1994) ‘Language and relationship to language in the teaching situation’, in Bourdieu, P., Passeron, J. C. and Saint Martin, M., Academic Discourse: Linguistic Misunderstanding and Professorial Power. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

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Brighton, A. (1994) ‘Art education and the scrutineers’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications, pp. 34–8. Butler, J. (1990) Gender Trouble. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Carter, P. (2004) Material Thinking: The Theory and Practice of Creative Research. Carlton, Victoria: Melbourne University Press. Dafiotis, P. (2013) ‘Art practice as a form of research in art education’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Debates in Art and Design Education. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 141–56. Davey, N. (2006) ‘Art and theoria’, in Macleod, K. and Holdridge, L., Thinking Through Art: Reflections on Art as Research. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 20–39. Dewey, J. (1938) Experience and Education. New York: Macmillan. Dobson, K. (2013) ‘Conversation: materials’, in Somerson, R. and Hermano, M. (eds), The Art of Critical Making. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, pp. 138–63. Dunnigan, J. (2013) ‘Thingking’, in Somerson, R. and Hermano, M. (eds), The Art of Critical Making. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley and Sons, pp. 94–115. Eisner, E. (2002a) Arts and the Creation of Mind. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Eisner, E. W. (2002b). ‘What can education learn from the arts about the practice of education?’, Journal of Curriculum and Supervision, 18(1): 4–16. Fisher, E. and Fortnum, R. (2013) On Not Knowing: How Artists Think. London: Black Dog Publishing. Fortnum, R. (2007) Contemporary British Women Artists in Their Own Words. London: I. B. Tauris. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. (1989) ‘Chariots of fire: etymologies, epistemologies and the emergence of curriculum’, in Milburn, G., Goodson, I. and Clark, R. J., Reinterpreting Curriculum Research: Images and Arguments. Lewes, Sussex: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I., Anstead, C. J. and Mangan, J. M. (1998) Subject Knowledge: Readings for the Study of School Subjects. London: The Falmer Press. Heidegger, M. (1977) What Is Called Thinking? Trans. Gray, J. G. and Wieck, F. D. London: HarperCollins. Hetherington, P. (ed.) (1994) Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications. Hill, W. (2016) How Folklore Shaped Modern Art: A Post-Critical History of Aesthetics. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Jarvis, M. (2007) ‘Articulating the tacit dimension in artmaking’, Journal of Visual Arts Practice, 6(3): 201–13. Jones, T. E. (2006) ‘The studio-art doctorate in America’, Art Journal, 65(2): 124–7. Kristeva, J. (1984) Revolution in Poetic Language. Trans. Waller, M. New York: Columbia University Press. Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MacLeod, K. and Holdridge, L. (2005) ‘Related objects of thought: art and thought, theory and practice’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 143–53. Maitland, B. M. (1991) ‘Problem-based learning for an architecture degree’, in Boud, D. and Feletti, G. (eds), The Challenge of Problem-Based Learning. London: Kogan Page. Melrose, S. (2009) ‘Expert-intuitive processing and the logics of production: struggles in (the wording of) creative decision: making in dance’, in Butterworth, J. and Wildschut, L. (eds), Contemporary Choreography: A Critical Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Meskimmon, M (2004) ‘Corporeal theory with/in practice: Christine Borland’s winter garden’, Art History, 26(3): 442–55.

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Nelson, R. (2013) Practice as Research in the Arts. London and New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pallasmaa, J. (2009) The Thinking Hand: Essential and Embodied Wisdom in Architecture. Chichester: John Wiley and Sons. Polanyi, M. (1969) Knowing and Being. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Pujol, E. (2009) ‘On the ground: practical observations for regenerating art education’, in Madoff, S. H. (ed.), Art Schools (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 1–14. Ryle, G. (1949) The Concept of Mind. London: Hutchinson. Schon, D. (1983) The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. Farnham: Ashgate. Sennett, R. (2008) The Craftsman. London: Penguin Books. Shapin, S. and Barnes, B. (1976) ‘Head and hand: rhetorical resources in British pedagogical writing, 1770–1850’, Oxford Review of Education, 2(3): 231–54. Steers, J. (2013) ‘Art and design education at the crossroads’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L. (eds), Debates in Art and Design Education. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 11–22. Suchin, P. (1998) ‘After a fashion: regress as progress in contemporary British art’, in McCorquodale, D., Siderfin, N. and Stallabrass, J. (eds), Occupational Hazard: Critical Writing on Recent British Art. London: Black Dog Publishing. Toulmin, S. (1990) Cosmopolis: The Hidden Agenda of Modernity. New York: Free Press. Wilde, C. (1999) ‘Theory in the education of the fine artist’, International Journal of Art and Design Education, 18(1): 49–53. Williams, G. (1994) ‘The practitioner, once a ubiquitous presence in art and design, is now a rarity: a history of the blooming and decline of the species’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications.

3 THE MEANING OF, AND POSSIBILITIES FOR, INTEGRATION

Introduction ‘We should be consciously integrating theory and practice’ (John Swift, 1996: 13). This statement evokes three significant and related issues. First, theory and practice are divided in a binary structure in which CCS is ‘theory’ and art is ‘practice’; second, integration is desirable and valuable; third, integration is a tool or technique that curriculum deliverers can and should deliberately design into a course. Swift (1996) was writing about CCS in British and North American schools using the term ‘critical studies’, which emerged from British education in the 1990s. The debate on theory and practice has expanded since then1 (as discussed in Chapter 2). Furthermore, the issues that Swift’s statement invokes are significant not only for schools but also for post-compulsory art education. They open up pertinent questions about the nature of knowledge, the packaging and identity of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ in the education system and the meaning of ‘integration’. In 1971, Pring described ‘integration’ as an approval word; that is, a term used to describe situations or practices in education that are understood to be valuable.The questions of what those situations or practices actually are – as well as the conditions in which they occur – are pertinent throughout this book and outlined in this chapter, along with why ‘integration’ should hold such value. Since Pring’s (1971) analysis, these questions have been raised elsewhere in education discourse (for example, Badley, 1986; Czerniak et al., 1999). Seldom defined but frequently cited in education literature, ‘integration’ is an apparently rarefied term that this chapter attempts to demystify by proposing a number of models for its practice. These models will be discussed specifically in relation to the subject of art and design and the position of CCS therein. Particular conceptualisations and classifications of knowledge underpin each model of integration. In other words, there is a correlation between the epistemological starting point and the approach taken to designing an integrated curriculum.

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Two dominant angles from which to approach integration are proposed. In the first, integration is a technique to be applied to varying degrees and levels (as demonstrated in Jacobs, 1989). In the second, integration is a philosophical and educational perspective that encompasses the whole of the educational experience and attitude (as Beane [1997] supports).These two dominant forms of integration, and the conceptualisations of knowledge that underpin them, form a useful basis from which to discuss the shape and organisation of CCS within art and design. This chapter is organised into three parts. The first contextualises the interest in integration in education discourse and practice and highlights the position of art and design within this. As well as proposing what integration means for CCS in art and design, this section offers some insight into the perceived value of integration in general education discourse. The second section, developing a more epistemological discussion, introduces sociological, philosophical and psychological approaches to knowledge. These approaches provide a range of ways of conceptualising integration and thus of organising CCS. In light of this discussion, the third section provides some examples of models of integration in practice, drawing on both the notions of integration as technique and integration as philosophy and attitude. Beane (1997) and Jacobs (1989) are central to this third section.

Contextualising the interest in integration: discourse and practice The USA and Britain Curriculum integration has long been debated in British and North American discourse on compulsory schooling. The 1980s and 1990s in particular witnessed a surge of such discourse, which highlighted the two dominant approaches to integration that form the crux of this chapter. The first is the view that there are varying classifications and levels of integration (for example, see Ingram, 1979; Fogarty, 1991; Palmer, 1991; Shoemaker, 1989; Jacobs, 1989). The second is a more holistic approach: total integration, advocated by Beane (1997) and educationalists who support one model of integration through ‘synergistic teaching’ (such as Bonds, Cox and Gantt-Bonds, 1993). This discourse appeared at a time when close attention was being paid to the curriculum in both the UK and North America. The National Curriculum was introduced in the UK following the Education Reform Act of 1988, and standards-based educational reform in North America occurred throughout the 1990s in the form of ‘Goals 2000’. Interest in and proposals for models of integration have not waned since then – but nor has the debate been resolved (see, for example, Drake and Burns, 2004; Etim, 2005; Fogarty, 2009; Kerry, 2015). The literature on curriculum integration generally focuses on compulsory schooling, in which a range of subjects is taught, rather than post-compulsory education, in which students specialise in fewer subjects (or just one). It follows that this literature is more concerned with the integration of different subject

The meaning of, and possibilities for, integration  37

fields or disciplines than integration within just one (such as art and design). Still, the literature remains useful because art and design courses in post-compulsory education are often split into two distinct disciplines: ‘theory’ (the lecture theatre aspect) and ‘practice’ (the studio aspect). As Hirst (1974) and Phenix (1964) suggest, some subjects already integrate several disciplines; or perhaps all subject fields are multidisciplinary and have flexible boundaries. After all, ‘academic subjects are not eternal categories’ (Williams, 1983: 14). However, some appear to suffer more turbulence in the relationship between their component parts than others. Art and design is one such subject. Furthermore, literature on curriculum integration is concerned with the integration of different systems and forms of knowledge. This is relevant because a discussion on the position of CCS within art and design must consider one knowledge and identity system (tacit and of the studio) in relation to another (codified and of the lecture theatre). The relationship of these knowledge systems or disciplines to one another – partially determined by socially constructed subject and curriculum identities – is key to understanding the potential for their integration. In British and American education discourse, integration was debated at a time when subject specificity and strong boundaries around discipline areas – the antithesis of integration – were developing in art and design education. In the USA, Bruner’s The Process of Education (1960) contributed to the development of some significant education programmes, such as the ‘structure of the disciplines’ movement (Kliebard, 2002: 134).This movement emphasises a subject-centred curriculum in which each discipline has its own set of basic concepts. Two decades later, this attention to discipline structure in the USA was implemented in art and design in schools with discipline-based art education (DBAE). In DBAE, art education became concerned with four equally weighted elements (introduced as one): aesthetics, art criticism, art practice and art history. DBAE is an example of several elements cohabiting in one field. Rather than an integrated structure, each element is discretely bound in terms of weighting and content. The separatism of DBAE is particularly relevant for this discussion on CCS as it both privileges theory and writing and conceptually separates them from studio practice. Aesthetics, criticism and history, which constitute three-quarters of DBAE, resemble the content of CCS in the UK. Unlike the UK model, though, the content of a DBAE course is predominantly ‘academic’ and non-studio-based. Evoking issues of subject status, DBAE thus privileges (and separates) history and theory over studio practice (see Wolf, 1992) and attributes higher value to codified knowledges than the tacit knowledges of making. Although developed for K-12 education in the USA (i.e. primary- and secondary-level education in the UK), this model spreads beyond both compulsory education and the USA. ‘Theory’ makes up the majority of DBAE provision: a weighting not mirrored in the UK. CCS in British art education, and the ‘theory’ and ‘academicism’ with which it is associated, is subordinate to art practice – at least in terms of allotted space in the curriculum. Although the weighting is different, the Bernsteinian strong subject classifications (Bernstein, 1971) that DBAE promotes for art education

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are echoed in the UK. After Coldstream in the 1960s, CCS in UK post-compulsory education was seen as removed from studio practice – even while interest in integration within general education discourse increased. As such, while a subject-centred curriculum was developing in art and design education (in terms of defining CCS as a separate subject),2 general education discourse was becoming increasingly concerned with student-centred and integrative approaches. Education discourse throughout this period discussed context-specific and embedded knowledge, problem-centred learning and the dissolution of subject boundaries (Hirst and Peters, 1970; Young, 1971; Bernstein, 1971, 1975; Gleeson and Whitty, 1976; Ingram, 1979). In the same decade, Pring (1971) discussed the value attributed to ‘integration’ in the curriculum and questioned its meaning. This period also marks a cultural and intellectual shift to postmodernism. Although a capacious and unstable term, it seems fitting that the themes raised in education discourse at this time emerged within this postmodern context. This is not to suggest that a postmodern shift occurred in art education (such a shift would probably include an end to standardised assessment – which certainly did not happen!), but rather to highlight that many elements of education discourse that emerged in this period are compatible with the cultural and intellectual context. These elements included discourse on a curriculum of subjects without boundaries; the introduction of modular curricula; a questioning of the metanarrative and the canon; a focus on the individual; and the prioritisation of the student over the subject.

Curriculum design A particular tension for art and design education is that it combines an essentially linear, rigid and product-based system with a field of practice that seeks to question and challenge such absolutes. The field of contemporary art and design practice and the structure of the education system form two disparate identities that constantly undermine and challenge one another. Regarding CCS, the Modernist structure implemented post-Coldstream defines CCS as a self-referential subject that is discretely assessable and teachable. The residue of such a system is evident in much current CCS provision in art and design education (and, indeed, the general education system). It is not that boundaries around CCS are maintained merely to stabilise its management and organisation within the education institution (which is not always the case, as evidenced in Chapter 5 in the Penton case study). There are educational benefits to discretely delivered CCS; this is discussed in Chapter 8, but worth noting here. Integration is evidently difficult to realise. Despite the widespread discourse on curriculum integration from the 1970s to the 1990s, there were no formal recommendations for integration in compulsory education in the UK.3 More recently in the UK, the Independent Review of the Curriculum (Rose, 2009) advocated a cross-curriculum approach in primary education and a loosening of subject boundaries. Rose’s recommendations for integration were not adopted in policy; indeed, under Michael Gove – UK Secretary of State for Education until July 2014 – there

The meaning of, and possibilities for, integration  39

was a move away from an integrated curriculum. It seems that while integration is attractive in theory, it is risky and complex in practice. In order to discuss integration and its possibilities in practice, it is necessary to establish its underlying epistemology. More specifically, in a discussion on the integration of CCS within art and design education, the construction of knowledge determines the form of integration – and thus the ways in which CCS is organised.

Structure within the subject: the discipline The ‘integration’ of knowledge and subject identities inside and outside the formal education institution is significant. However, the structure within the subject itself – i.e. the position of CCS – is the focus here; furthermore, this structure highlights some of the tensions in question. A core question is whether the integration of CCS in art and design education concerns the integration of two distinct areas of discipline (art and design and CCS) within any one art and design course, or the integration of two aspects (practice and theory) of one discipline or subject (art and design). Bird (2001: 467) points out that ‘many “subjects” are in themselves interdisciplinary’; perhaps art and design is one such subject. However, this may be a cause of tension if Becher’s (1989) concept of ‘tribes and territories’ is utilised. This stipulates that disciplines are tightly controlled by their inhabitants, who ensure the maintenance of their boundaries, identities and status. If CCS is a distinct disciplinary field that can be understood in Becher’s (1989) terms, there are inevitable tensions of authority and identity in its position as a component within an art and design course – including a tension between the theoretical/academic and the practical, discussed in Chapters 1 and 2. The division of the theoretical and the practical resonates with Aristotle’s views on knowledge, which classifies knowledge into three distinct disciplines: the productive, the theoretical and the practical. Art and design, both in and out of the formal education institution, appears to fit all of these areas in that it is a combination of practical, theoretical and vocational. The reduction of CCS to ‘theoretical’ and practice to ‘practical and vocational’ produces a combination of friction and clarity. Discrete CCS is not automatically problematic; indeed, it has merits (as discussed in Chapters 5 and 8). It is the conceptual division of theory and practice and their attachment to CCS and studio practice respectively that harms both CCS and studio practice. Furthermore, this artificial divide prevents the subject field from existing beyond the art institution. A similar problem occurs in the Newsom Report (MfE, 1963), which groups subjects into three ‘broad fields of experience’: practical subjects, the humanities, and mathematics and science. Apart from the problems inherent to such an arbitrary classification, art and design encounters the difficulty of falling within two of these ‘broad fields’: practical subjects and the humanities, particularly where CCS is delivered as a post-Coldstream art history (or a similar manifestation of CCS). Furthermore, contemporary collaborations between art and science within the field of art and design complicate the Newsom Report’s third ‘broad field of

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experience’. In brief, the categories that are characteristically used to differentiate types of knowledge in education are not particularly useful when considering art and design. Integration can lead to art and design becoming a service provider, a device to support learning in other subjects or a tool through which other – ‘more important’ – subjects are taught. Subjects can get lost in the integrated curriculum, leading to disintegration. For example, in the English primary education system, pressure from government to raise standards in literacy and numeracy pushed art and design to the peripheries of the curriculum or into the role of service provider for delivery of core subjects. CCS takes on various guises across post-compulsory education: from a distinct subject (in the form of Art History or Visual Culture) to an integral part of art and design (in the form of the development of studio practice through research). Chapter 4 explores these models of CCS in more detail. The concern here in Chapter 3 is with the notion that possibilities for integration (which depend on how CCS is understood) are based on what counts as ‘valid knowledge’ – and the ways in which this knowledge is packaged.

Sociological, philosophical and psychological approaches One approach to organising and viewing knowledge is through a sociological lens. With this approach, the identity of the discipline (art and design, and CCS if it is framed as a distinct discipline) is defined by the boundaries around it and the maintenance of those boundaries by the social actors involved (including staff and students). Those involved in the discipline are socialised into it, and – through regular rehearsal – learn to adhere to its codes of practice. This is discussed by Bernstein (1971: 56), who asserts that ‘how a society selects, classifies, distributes, transmits and evaluates the educational knowledge it considers to be public, reflects both the distribution of power and the principles of social control’. Bernstein’s assertions on the classification and framing of knowledge – and the control of knowledge through the socialisation of teachers, who reinforce and maintain the position and shape of that knowledge – are developed in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters with reference to case studies. Bernstein,Young (1971) and Goodson (1989, 1995 [1988]) are key figures in applying this sociological approach to knowledge and foreground the maintenance of subject boundaries via teachers’ socialisation.The issue of status is core in a discussion of constructions of both CCS and ‘theory’. Subject status is reinforced in the single subject in a self-referential temporal vacuum, as though it exists in pure form. This is in contrast to the more loosely controlled, transdisciplinary subject, which does not have such rigid parameters. Unlike the sociological view of knowledge, the philosophical view is concerned with what counts as valid knowledge. According to Hirst (in Goodson, 1995 [1988]: 163), knowledge in the form of an intellectual discipline is created by university scholars and is then converted for use as a school subject. This represents a trickledown effect from the higher ‘authorities’ on the subject. Rather than the subject

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identity being reinforced and naturalised through the socialisation of teaching staff, as the sociological view suggests, Hirst proposes that the university provides the discipline forms and passes these to teachers in schools (or lecturers in FE colleges). What is missing from this view is attention to the part that teachers play in maintaining (and developing – at least potentially) discipline forms. The philosophical approach is useful as a reminder of the interconnection between levels of education, where, for example, teachers in FE art education understand constructions of the subject of art and design at HE level, as well as at compulsory school level. This allows insight into the position at which students enter the FE course and the potential expectations at their next level of education. Understanding the relationship between university knowledge and previous stages of education is thus particularly useful for staff teaching on BTECs, Foundation courses, A levels and Foundation Degrees, all of which potentially lead to entry into a university art education. The relationship between university knowledge and FE knowledge is particularly useful to note in terms of CCS in the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) as a prelude to CCS in HE. A third perspective that is useful for considering the possibilities for the integration of CCS in art and design is psychological. From a psychological perspective, knowledge can be viewed in terms of Bruner’s (1960) Symbolic, Enactive and Iconic modes of representation in cognitive development. Bruner plots the development of these modes of representation, arguing that the Symbolic mode (based on words and numbers) occurs at a more sophisticated stage of development than the Enactive (action) or Iconic (images) modes. This individual developmental hierarchy might be applied at a cultural level, in which the Symbolic is taken as being superior to the Iconic and Enactive. The status struggles between the written language of CCS and the visual and practical languages of studio practice can be viewed in these terms (introduced in Chapter 2 and discussed in relation to case studies in Chapter 6). The separation between the written and the visual is as reductive as the separation between theory and practice, especially when considering areas of art and design that deal particularly with written text (such as graphic design) and practitioners who present writing as practice. Collapsing the written into ‘theory’ and distancing this from ‘practice’ is a common and equally problematic claim; as Susan Melrose suggests, writing is not so dissimilar from fabrication. Practitioners, dancers and writers, among others, are all gesturing towards articulation and attempting to ‘cover over a gap in reasoning and a gap in material evidence’ (Melrose, 2005: 10). In other words, there is ambiguity across each of these forms and writing is no less complex or more ‘known’. Rather than the visual medium being at its centre, art education is a ‘discursive practice [where] tutoring people making art is tutoring people in ways of thinking about art’ (Brighton, 1994: 37). The thinking, talking and making that occur in the studio represent an integrated structure of knowledge that becomes difficult to codify; furthermore, when such knowledge is codified, the ‘whole’ becomes fragmented into disparate parts that lose meaning and disconnect from practice (Ryle, 1949).

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The latter typically occurs in art and design programmes with a tightly classified, framed and assessed CCS. Where CCS is more embedded in studio practice, knowledge is more typically tacit; studio practice becomes the site for knowledge integration and demonstration. Tacit knowledge (Polanyi, 1969) is developed and evidenced in a more holistic and less quantifiable way than codified knowledge, as discussed in some detail in Chapter 2. The various models of knowledge and lenses through which knowledge can be understood inform the possibilities for integration. As presented in the previous section, the types of knowledge at stake in this discussion can be identified as either two independent disciplines (CCS and art and design practice) or two parts of one discipline (art and design), depending on how CCS is classified and framed. As the previous chapter suggested, there are different forms of CCS, ranging from history of art to Visual Culture to individual student research based on studio practice. Where CCS provides the research base for studio projects, it is present within art and design as one field of study or discipline, and integration can be seen holistically as an absolute. If, however, CCS is closely aligned to history of art, it is potentially in quite a different disciplinary field to that of art and design practice – the subject of history of art could be classified within the humanities rather than the practical arts. If two distinct disciplines are at stake, the notion that integration can exist in forms and levels is useful in that CCS can be discussed in terms of knowledge systems, assessment procedures and delivery techniques, each of which can be integrated into the practical art and design course to varying degrees. There are thus two principal ways in which to approach the theory and practice of integration, developed from these two dominant views of CCS.

Integration: a philosophy/attitude or a technique/tool? This section will outline two approaches to integration through which curriculum designers and teaching staff can position themselves and the ideology of the institution in which they work. The first is integration as a philosophy; the second is integration as a technique. These will be discussed in the context of the subject of art and design, particularly CCS therein, using Beane (1997) and Jacobs (1989) as theoretical frames. The first approach – integration as a philosophy – is based on the notion that anything other than genuine, authentic integration is non-integration. Ultimately, then, there can only ever be two models within this approach: full integration or non-integration. This approach must reject subject specificity and its accompanying hierarchies of knowledge if integration is to be achieved. Beane (1997), dubious of labels containing the word ‘disciplinary’ that risk endorsing subject specificity, promotes this ‘genuine integration’. According to Beane (1997), using the term ‘integration’ to describe a curriculum that retains separate subject identities constitutes a misapplication of the term. As such, genuine integration is considered to be entirely different to all separate-subject approaches.

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The second approach – integration as a technique – is based on the concept that it is possible to legitimately practise different degrees of integration without these being deemed merely illusory. This approach therefore advocates labels such as ‘interdisciplinary’ (Jacobs, 1989), ‘transdisciplinary’ (Drake, 1993; Meeth, 1978) or ‘supradisciplinary’ (Brady, 1995) and views integration as a scale or continuum. According to Beane’s (1997) argument, these terms are not forms of genuine integration and therefore cannot be part of the first approach. This second approach is based upon the work of Jacobs (1989), who presents several models of integration along a scale – from a separate-subject approach to total integration. The two approaches outlined above are epistemologically disparate. The first is concerned with the unity of knowledge and the second is based on the collaboration of different knowledge domains. The difference between these two approaches can be understood as the difference between integration as an attitude and absolute on the one hand, and integration as a tool in a multidisciplinary curriculum on the other. While the first model supports a holistic experience that focuses on the individual rather than the subject, the second appears more akin to a subjectcentred curriculum and one that is more plausible in practice than the first. Using Beane (1997) as a guide, this first approach will now be related to forms of CCS, in order to suggest the kinds of CCS that may be enabled by ‘genuine integration’ (Beane, 1997). Beane (1997) asserts that curriculum integration is the integration of four elements: integration of experience, social integration, integration of knowledge and integration as curriculum design. A discussion of integration in Beane’s terms is a discussion of a philosophy of integration, which is rooted in the conceptualisation of knowledge and how it is delivered and experienced. Beane (1997) describes this first component – experience – as follows: ‘the curriculum is organised around problems and issues that are of personal and social significance in the real world’ (Beane, 1997: 9). If the artist is ‘always an artist’ (as suggested by one of the interview participants in Chapter 5), it follows that the ‘real world’ for the student artist is their engagement with their practice. In this sense, CCS can be described as ‘organised around problems and issues that are of personal and social significance in the students’ art and design practice’ (Beane, 1997: 9), rather than a body of knowledge that is context-independent and self-referential. Further, not only CCS but also art education as a whole can be described in this way; Williams (1994: 25) states that ‘the student wishing to study painting or sculpture is researching and experiencing a subject that has a real existence . . . outside the walls of the educational institution’. This link between the art and design course and the ‘real world’ (the field of art and design) is as key to Beane’s first component (‘experience’). This link also emerges when CCS is delivered as ‘Visual Culture’; in this form of delivery, CCS includes attention to ways of seeing the contemporary visual landscape, and is thus directly connected to the ‘real world’. Beane’s (1997) second component of genuine integration – social integration – states that an ‘organising centre’ (i.e. a theme or problem) forms the focus for

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all learning experiences. As such, knowledge is integrated in the context of this organising centre. In the case of the art and design course, this occurs in the setting of a brief that addresses one theme and meets an array of assessment criteria from a range of units. In addition, this ‘problem-centred curriculum’ (Beane, 1997: 6) is based on real social themes, enabling the students to engage in collaborative work on common issues. The emphasis here, therefore, is less on the individual than on the collective: an emphasis that challenges individualised Romantic ‘lone genius’ notions of practice that continue (in some institutions and with some students) to underpin art and design. Third, Beane (1997) suggests that the integration of knowledge is based on the notion that knowledge is developed in order to address the organising centre. This involves the real application of knowledge so that students can integrate their experiences of the curriculum into their schemes of meaning, providing a holistic experience of knowledge rather than a mere preparation for an assessment. This does not fit with an art education based on outcomes; it does occur when this part of an art and design course is reduced to the essay assessment: that is, when the focus of CCS is on the form of writing rather than on the ideas and development of critical thinking and visual analysis. When the focus of CCS is on subject content, the essay offers a mode for communicating existing ideas or a means to gather and develop ideas through the process of writing. When the focus of CCS is on forming ‘the essay’ rather than on forming ideas and content, CCS becomes narrow and disconnected from the rest of the course.The essay subscribes to a language, form and presentation that are distinct from the language, form and presentation of art and design in the studio. In this sense, CCS seems unrelated to practice. However, while they may be framed differently, the discussion, thinking and visual analysis within CCS are not dissimilar to the discussion, thinking and visual analysis that occur in the studio. In this way, CCS feeds practice and is part of the same field of knowledge. A subsidiary question in relation to Beane’s third component is whether formal essay writing (in association with the lecture theatre) can (and should) be genuinely ‘integrated’ with the visual, verbal and ‘other’ written languages of the studio. Beane suggests that the combination of each of these components is an aspect of curriculum design, and that curriculum design should be the focus of integration. Achieving such integration requires teaching staff, management staff and students to share a philosophy and a mutual understanding of integration. This rejection of compartmentalisation and fragmentation in exchange for a holistic experience of the curriculum is particularly applicable to a primary curriculum, but is also useful in post-compulsory education in which students are studying one particular subject. Integration within one art and design course in terms of studio staff, CCS staff and the course or programme leader, as well as within the subject of art and design itself, will be examined in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters. It is suggested in the following chapters that the type of knowledge communicated and experienced through CCS differs from place to place. The identity of CCS seems to be endorsed in terms of the learning styles

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and knowledge structures that differentiate this part of the course from studio work. Beane’s view of integration is conducive to the notion that art and design is one holistic discipline within which CCS is embedded. However, when CCS occupies a distinct curricular position within a course and takes on the identity of a discrete discipline, it could more usefully be discussed in relation to multidisciplinarity rather than total integration. The two extremes of conceptualising integration could be understood as ‘total integration’ at one extreme (where there is no centre) and ‘compartmentalisation’ at its polar opposite (where each compartment/subject is self-referential and thus exists within and for itself). It could be argued that ‘total integration’ falls into the trap of relativism, which is problematic for education. ‘Compartmentalisation’, on the other hand, risks being useful only in reference to itself; this is equally problematic for education because it limits knowledge to subject boundaries and does not allow it scope for existence outside the education system. To view integration and non-integration as a dichotomy, as advocated by Beane,4 is thus potentially limiting. The non-integration/integration binary is based on an understanding of knowledge as either detached from reality or based on social experience and participation. This risks falling into the positivism/relativism polarity, which is not useful for educational practice (discussed in Young, 2008). The social realist approach to knowledge that Young discusses recognises difference between knowledges while also recognising knowledge as social. This is a useful approach to the integration of CCS and studio practice, which appear to occupy quite different disciplinary areas or domains of knowledge while simultaneously coexisting in one established field. Besides, as proposed in Chapter 8, there is value in the difference between CCS and studio practice. A further problem with the non-integration/integration binary is what Jacobs (1989) terms ‘the polarity problem’, in which integration and subject specificity are viewed as binaries with impenetrable boundaries. The polarity problem is therefore concerned with the perception of two distinct and opposing views of knowledge with no middle ground in between. It thus relates to what Young (2008) describes as ‘the epistemological dilemma’, which is based on the notion that all knowledge is either relative or universal. While this ‘all or nothing’ approach could be conceived as problematic, Beane (1997) views a separation between these two approaches as invaluable in order to achieve genuine integration. Unlike Beane (1997), Jacobs (1989) measures integration in a ‘continuum of options’ ranging from the separate-subject approach to the ‘Complete Programme’. She labels the former ‘discipline-based content design’; in this, knowledge is presented in separate fields and detached from real life, and the study of disciplines is fragmented. She describes the latter as ‘the most extreme form of interdisciplinary work’ (Jacobs: 1989: 17); in this, disciplines are rejected (she uses Summerhill5 as an example).6 Jacobs’ Complete Programme differs from Beane’s genuine integration in that Beane recognises disciplines of knowledge. It is evident that ‘integration’ is

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a complex notion to define. Having outlined Beane’s perspective of integration as an attitude to the whole curriculum, Jacobs’ continuum of integration will now be examined. These two disparate approaches to integration, and the models that they cover, prepare for analysing case study data in the following chapters – particularly the discussion on models of theory in Chapter 4. Between the opposite ends of the integration continuum, Jacobs (1989) proposes four stages that reflect degrees of integration. The closest to discipline-based content design is parallel discipline designs, in which the content of each subject does not change; however, the order in which different subjects are taught is changed, so that students are left to make the links between subjects. For example, in a modular FE art and design course, linear perspective and foreshortening might be explored as techniques in a drawing workshop and an accompanying lecture programme might focus on the works of Renaissance artists who employed these techniques, such as Masaccio and Uccello. This model works on the basis that it is the student who makes the links between subjects, which are taught by subject-specific tutors in subject-specific learning sites. In this sense the student takes responsibility for the integrated experience, which might occur beyond the course. This notion of integration residing within the student is key in Chapter 7 and is a well-established idea. Dutton and Snedden (1912) discuss ‘final integration’, in which it is left up to the students to unify different aspects of their course. If integration resides with the individual, there is an important question to be asked about the extent to which integration can result from changes to curriculum design. It is not just course content that is relevant to a discussion on integration; form and delivery are also important. This is illustrated in Jacobs’ (1989) next stage in the continuum: complementary discipline units or courses, in which disciplines are brought together in a formal unit or course. This could be translated as the art and design course as a whole and the disciplines that are brought together therein; it could also be understood as several units being brought together in one set brief, such as unit 5 (CCS) and practical studio units in the EDAD (which is the case study course in proceeding chapters). Jacobs does not talk specifically about learning site or staffing, but it is significant that this model brings several disciplines together – potentially within one learning site, one tutor and one dominant mode of delivery. Conversely, it could be that each discipline is distinct – again through learning site, tutor and mode of delivery.This demonstrates that not only the content but also the form of disciplines requires closer attention (Chapter 6 addresses this in more detail in reference to case study data). At the EDAD course, it is more plausible to select course units for integration into a series of set briefs7 than to integrate all aspects of the course into one holistic brief. Jacobs (1989) would label a wholly integrated brief, spanning all units and disciplines in the curriculum, as ‘interdisciplinary’. This approach to course design arguably allows for the most relevant subjects or disciplines to surface, providing a focus for investigating the topic or organising centre. However, the role of staff interests and dispositions, learning site, facilities, student motivation and college philosophy will impact upon the particular units, subjects or disciplines that

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surface – as well as those that this approach dilutes. These significant factors are addressed in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters. Before arriving at the Complete Programme, Jacobs (1989) defines one more approach: the integrated day model, in which an allocated day is dedicated to integration. The structure of this day is organic, based on the interests and needs of the students. An isolated and contained day within a tightly structured, education system supports the notion that integration is a technique or tool rather than a philosophy. It is an integrative gesture, but within fixed boundaries. If integration is a philosophy that informs a holistic approach to and understanding of the curriculum, both the integrated day model and the notion of levels of integration appear to be a contradiction. If, however, integration can be understood as a technique that is applied at various levels to different aspects of the curriculum, Jacobs’ continuum is useful. Jacobs’ continuum accommodates discrete subject-based learning styles and assessment procedures – even when the curriculum includes ‘integrated’ elements. While Jacobs’ (1989) and Beane’s (1997) approaches seem very different on this, Beane does not completely reject the identities of the disciplines. Beane, is not advocating a postmodern curriculum, tangible in theory but implausible in practice; rather, he challenges any form of subject specificity that isolates and decontextualises parts of the curriculum. Ackerman (1987) suggests that two key questions need to be addressed when considering integration: whether it makes intellectual sense and whether it makes practical sense to integrate certain parts of the curriculum. This could be understood as what makes sense in theory and what makes sense in practice. In relation to the broad aims of this book (and discussion in Chapter 2), it is worth noting that Ackerman positions the practical and the intellectual/theoretical as two disparate elements, albeit both worthy of consideration. Debates about divides between practical and intellectual, practice and theory and vocational and academic are rife in art and design. When ‘practical’ and ‘theoretical’ elements are packaged discretely within a course, something to consider is their order of appearance in the curriculum structure. If the intention is that they are integrated at some point, and if integration can be understood as a technique, at what point during the course should it be employed?

Linear curriculum structures and solid grounding Jacobs states: ‘just as artists like Picasso and Joyce could not break the rules until they had fully mastered them, students cannot fully benefit from interdisciplinary studies until they acquire a solid grounding in the various disciplines that interdisciplinarity attempts to bridge’ (Jacobs and Borland, 1986). This analogy is interesting in three related senses. First, it insinuates that the standard against which practice is measured resides in the rules of the disciplines. Any deviation from this standard is successful only after the standard has been achieved or demonstrated. This implies that the artist is measuring himself or herself against (and therefore acknowledging) a contained standard of rules, skills or knowledges that benchmark their practice – rather

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than these rules, skills or knowledges being part of their discipline and shifting according to individual practices. Second, this analogy suggests that there is a linear progression to accomplishing skills and knowledge. Third, it implies that integration is most successful if it occurs after a prescribed non-integrated approach. There are both practical and theoretical issues with these three implication . Designing integration as a follow-up to a subject-specific approach to learning ensures a ‘solid grounding’ (Jacobs, 1989). In the EDAD course, this could be illustrated in the delivery of CCS (unit 5) as a history of art and design in year one of the two year course. Such a structure sets a solid ‘academic’ or ‘theoretical’ grounding in the first year. This notion of first instilling a strong theoretical grounding and subsequently an integrated approach suggests that a body of knowledge must be imparted prior to learning becoming less linear. Literature on creative writing is useful to reference in this discussion on linearity. Tom Grimes states: ‘until craft is mastered, imagination is useless, largely inapplicable abstraction. Mastering craft gives the writer access to the fullness of his or her imagination because it gives the writer the ability to deploy and apply it’ (Grimes, 1999: 26–7). A foundation in mastering craft has epistemological implications, which suggests that preconceived standards and hierarchies of knowledges should be taught in a linear manner. While the linear model of a subject-specific and non-integrated solid grounding is advocated by some curriculum theorists (e.g. Jacobs, 1989) and creative writing theorists (e.g. Grimes, 1999), other curriculum theorists (e.g. Beane, 1997) and creative writing theorists (e.g. Ostrom, 1994) offer a different perspective. Ostrom states: ‘it may well be that (so-called) imaginative writing has a greater role to play in (so-called) basic and first-year writing; one old assumption is that students had to master skills before they produced literary art, but increasingly it seems as if the connections among skills, mastery, creativity, and so forth are more complicated and less linear than we have assumed’ (Ostrom, 1994). Ostrom argues for the integration of different forms of writing in the first-year course, rather than the separation of these forms into a linear structure of delivery that provides the ‘rules’. In a practical sense, for Beane (1997), the process of shifting from subjectspecific knowledge to integrated knowledges is not reflective of real-life experience outside the learning site. From this perspective, Jacobs’ ‘solid grounding’ could be construed as artificial, privileging certain knowledges which have come to be accepted as essential ‘rules’ to ‘master’. It would be naïve to assume that knowledge is entirely relative; however, there is scope to critique the Modernist view of compartmentalised knowledges. Before embarking on such a critique, a third model can be added to the discussion. There is a potential alternative to both Jacobs’ (1989) solid grounding and Beane’s (1997) complete integration. In this third model – almost a reversal of Jacobs’ suggestion – integration would occur initially and subject-specific knowledge would be delivered later in the course, when students have made sense of knowledges in integrated ways. If integration renders knowledge more relevant (and thus accessible), this is the most logical approach for introducing knowledge

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in the disciplines. Such a model is loosely evident in the education system within art and design, in the transition from a compulsory schooling experience of art and design to FE and then HE. The latter is more likely to exercise a nonintegrated approach to the delivery of CCS than, for example, a GCSE art and design curriculum. Models of integration will be examined in relation to current practice in Chapter 8; for now, I offer a suggestion in light of the above discussion. Over a two-year course at post-compulsory level, the third model might mean that forms of CCS are taught in year one in an integrated manner (although the risk is that this equates to a ‘diluted’ manner); in the second year, the teaching of CCS continues8 as a more discrete aspect of the course (with lectures, for example). In this sense, integration is a means to access knowledge and is followed by a second year in which students autonomously find the links with their practice. Over a three-year course, the structure of the proposed two-year model includes a third year of students working autonomously with a broader lecture programme. This therefore involves a first year of integration designed into the curriculum; a second-year provision of discrete CCS ideas that students can choose to draw into their practice, using the first-year model as an example; and a third year in which students integrate aspects of CCS with their practice more independently, drawing upon discrete CCS provision over the second and third years. Alternatively, rather than integrating different subject elements the focus could be on the individual student. In such a model, CCS would start with ‘the choices students have already made’ (Wilson, 2003), rendering CCS relevant and integrated with the individual student from the outset. These ideas will be addressed further in Chapter 7 in reference to the data.

Emergent issues at stake in the integration of CCS: defining subjects and fields The question of integration is based on the issues of what counts as valid knowledge, how that knowledge is packaged, how different forms of knowledge relate to one another and the reflection of these concepts in curriculum arrangements. Within an education system, integration can appear as a threat to the order (and hierarchy); as such, integration as a technique appears more feasible than integration as a philosophy and holistic attitude. Ackerman (1987) suggests that, in an integrated curriculum, the concepts developed from the organising centre must ‘be not merely related to their subjects, but important to them’ (Ackerman, 1987), assuming a hierarchical knowledge system. Ackerman fears the ‘anti-disciplinary’ nature of integration (Ackerman, 1987: 24), which Beane (1997) would argue is a misunderstanding of genuine integration. For Beane, genuine integration is not anti-disciplinary but rather ‘anti-separate-subject’.This concept of the discipline versus the subject is useful to note; while CCS exists within the discipline of art and design, as a subject it is sometimes isolated. As this chapter has discussed, disciplines can be understood in terms of tribes and territories (Becher, 1989). However, discipline boundaries can also be conceived

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as fluid and overlapping with other discipline boundaries (Klein, 1990): a case of ‘weak classification’ (Bernstein, 1971). Conversely, the separate-subject approach to the curriculum is concerned with strong boundaries and inflexibility. If a discipline of knowledge is a lens through which to view the world (Beane, 1997: 39), then art and design and CCS are part of the same discipline in colleges in which CCS is taught as a critical and questioning subject, such as Visual Culture. By challenging identities, subjects can be dissolved into broader discipline fields. As far as Beane is concerned, the question of integration is a question of the fate of the subject matter – whether there is an attempt to retain or reject the identity of separate subjects (Beane, 1997). This, for Beane, is the difference between curriculum integration and multidisciplinary design.When CCS relinquishes its identity as a separate subject, perhaps integration with the rest of the art and design course can begin. An integrated art and design course according to Beane’s defunction may be most likely to occur when knowledge hierarchies are imploded. Acknowledging integration as a philosophy inevitably calls into question the issue of the whole curriculum, the learning site and all those involved. On the art and design course, Beane’s (1997) genuine integration would require a whole team, interested in all areas of the course, and a non-hierarchical approach to each of these areas, suggesting an end to specialisms. This could be considered alongside the rise of collaborative notions of creativity (Sawyer, 2006) and the increased hybridisation of specialisms to create interdisciplinary artists and designers. In a postmodern, multi-referential climate, there is scope for the different disciplines to cohabit and hold a dialogue to the extent that the boundaries between them overlap or, in a more integrated manner, blur. In the case of CCS, this appears most visibly in the studio, where CCS occurs informally, consistently and organically as an integrated part of the whole art and design course (discussed in Chapter 4). This reflects Beane’s (1997) notion of integration beginning and ending with a problem or issue, so that knowledge (CCS) is contextualised through the organising centre (the brief). This studio-based CCS is so integral to students’ practice that students may not apply a term to this exercise of talking and thinking about other artists and theories to develop their own practice. However, it is the other ‘official’ and assessable form of CCS – that is, its subject specificity – that is apparently disjointed from the rest of the course. In practice, any attempt at fully integrating CCS is challenged by the fact that it has its own unit title and assessment criteria outlined in the syllabus, and by students’ expectations of a contained subject. As Young (2008) states, from a social realist approach education is fundamentally about differentiation – between fields as well as between theoretical and everyday knowledge – even though the form and content of the differentiation are not fixed and will change. This approach helps to locate CCS as a relevant (yet distinct) part of the art and design course that has been inconsistent and evolving throughout the history of art education. Rather than breaking down differentiation through total integration, perhaps this difference is useful – even necessary; as Bernstein argues, knowledge boundaries (and, relatedly, subject boundaries) are

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not only ‘prisons’, but also ‘tension points condensing the past and opening up possible futures’ (Bernstein, 2000: preface). The underlying tension in the CCS debate is rooted in the identity of art and design. While the separation of thinking/making, theory/practice and head/hand can be deemed artificial (as discussed in some detail in Chapter 2), there remains a distinct identity to the ‘theory’ enforced in a post-Coldstream art education system. This ‘theory’, in the form of CCS, will be explored in more detail in the following chapter. It is through this that hierarchies can be questioned and challenged, rather than assuming that ‘[a]rtistic work is the very contrary of theory . . . Thus there is some antipathy between art practice and cultural theory which must not be resolved by attempting to direct the practice through the terms of the theory’ (Wilde, 1999: 52). Rather than theory dictating the terms, there is potential for art practice to be viewed more holistically – as a multitude of shifting dialogues, of which CCS forms a symbiotic part. This approach is in keeping with some of Madoff’s ‘words of wisdom’ for the art school: ‘Wonderful things can happen between disciplines, but you don’t need to tear down the walls. There are doors. (Just leave them unlocked)’ (2009: 244).

Notes 1 As discussed in Chapter 2, these developments include responses to new materialism and increasing discourse on practice as research, for example. 2 See Chapter 1 for more detail.This ‘separate subject’ came in the form of ‘art history’ with the post-Coldstream reforms. 3 Some education institutions adopted cross-curricula themes with the advent of the National Curriculum – an attempt at a form of integration – but this was not universal, nor was it enforced by the National Curriculum. 4 Beane suggests that anything other than ‘genuine integration’ is a separate-subject approach; however, he would not see his notion of integration as falling into the postmodernist trap, for he acknowledges disciplines of knowledge in a broad sense with fluid boundaries. However, what this actually means in practice in a modernist education system is difficult to identify clearly. 5 A ‘free’ school in Suffolk, UK, founded in 1921 by A. S. Neil. 6 Beane (1997), however, does not see Summerhill as an example of integration, for he acknowledges the disciplines of knowledge while rejecting their narrow and prescribed employment. 7 A set brief covers a specific theme and one or several units. While all students are given a set brief, they typically work on this individually. 8 At most institutions, the whole of unit 5 is taught in year one.

References Ackerman, P. L. (1987) ‘Individual differences in skill learning: an integration of psychometric and information processing perspectives’, Psychological Bulletin, 102: 3–27. Badley, K. (1986) ‘Integration and the integration of faith and learning’. Unpublished dissertation, University of British Columbia, Vancouver. Beane, J. A. (1997) Curriculum Integration: Designing the Core of Democratic Education. New York: Teachers College Press.

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Becher, T. (1989) Academic Tribes and Territories. Buckingham: Open University Press. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Bernstein, B. (1975) Class, Codes and Control: Towards a Theory of Educational Transmissions, 2nd edition. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Bernstein, B. (2000) Pedagogy, Symbolic Control and Identity: Theory, Research, Critique. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Bird, E. (2001) ‘Disciplining the interdisciplinary: radicalism and the academic curriculum’, British Journal of Sociology of Education, 22(4): 463–78. Bonds, C., Cox, C. and Gantt-Bonds, L. (1993) ‘Curriculum wholeness through synergistic teaching’, The Clearing House, 66(4): 252–4. Brady, L. (1995) Curriculum Development, 5th edition. Sydney: Prentice-Hall. Brighton, A. (1994) ‘Art education and the scrutineers’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications, pp. 34–8. Bruner, J. (1960) The Process of Education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Czerniak, C. M., Weber, W. B., Sandmann, A. and Ahern, J. (1999) ‘A literature review of science and mathematics integration’, School Science and Mathematics, 99(8): 421–30. Drake, S. (1993) Planning Integrated Curriculum: The Call to Adventure. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Drake, S. M. and Burns, R. C. (2004) Meeting Standards Through Integrated Curriculum. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Dutton, S. T. and Snedden, D. (1912) The Administration of Public Education. New York: Macmillan. Etim, J. (2005) Curriculum Integration K-12: Theory and Practice. Lanham, MD and Oxford: University Press of America. Fogarty, R. (1991) The Mindful School: How to Integrate the Curricula. Palatine, IL: Skylight Publishing. Fogarty, R. (2009) How to Integrate the Curricula, 3rd edition. Thousand Oaks, CA, New Delhi, London and Singapore: Sage. Gleeson, D. and Whitty, G. (1976) Developments in Social Studies Teaching. London: Open Books. Goodson, I. (1989) ‘Chariots of fire: etymologies, epistemologies and the emergence of curriculum’, in Milburn, G., Goodson, I. and Clark, R. J., Reinterpreting Curriculum Research: Images and Arguments. Lewes, Sussex: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Grimes, T. (1999) The Workshop: Seven Decades of the Iowa Writers’Workshop. Los Angeles, CA: Hyperion. Hirst, P. H. (1974) Knowledge and the Curriculum. London: RKP. Hirst, P. H. and Peters, R. S. (1970) The Logic of Education. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Ingram, J. B. (1979) Curriculum Integration and Lifelong Education. Oxford: UNESCO Institute for Education and Pergamon Press. Jacobs, H. H. (1989) Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Jacobs, H. H. and Borland, J. (1986) ‘The interdisciplinary concept model’, Gifted Child Quarterly, 30: 159–63. Kerry, T. (ed.) (2015) Cross-Curricular Teaching in the Primary School: Planning and Facilitating Imaginative Lessons, 1st edition. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. Kliebard, H. M. (2002) Changing Course: American Curriculum Reform in the 20th Century. New York: Teachers College Press. Klein, J. T. (1990) Interdisciplinary Studies Today. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

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Madoff, S. H. (ed.) (2009) Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press Melrose, S. (2005) ‘ . . . just intuitive . . . ’. Available at: http://www.sfmelrose.org.uk/ justintuitive/. Meeth, L. R. (1978) ‘Interdisciplinary studies: a matter of definition’, Change, 7: 10. Mf E (Ministry of Education) (1963) Half Our Future. The Newsom Report. London: HMSO. Ostrom, H. (1994) ‘Introduction: of radishes and shadows, theory and pedagogy’, in Bishop, W. and Ostrom, H. (eds), Colours of a Different Horse: Rethinking Creative Writing Theory and Pedagogy. Urbana, IL: National Council of Teaching English. Palmer, J. (1991) ‘Planning wheels turn curriculum around’, Educational Leadership 49(2): 57–60. Phenix, P. H. (1964) Realms of Meaning: A Philosophy of the Curriculum for General Education. New York: McGraw-Hill. Polanyi, M. (1969) Knowing and Being. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Pring, R. (1971) ‘Curriculum integration’, Proceedings of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain, 5(2): 170–200. Rose, J. (2009) Independent Review of the Primary Curriculum: Final Report. Nottingham: DCSF Publications. Available at: http://www.educationengland.org.uk/documents/ pdfs/2009-IRPC-final-report.pdf. Ryle, G. (1949) The Concept of Mind. London: Hutchinson. Sawyer, K. (2006) Explaining Creativity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Shoemaker, B. (1989) ‘Integrative education: a curriculum for the twenty-first century’, Oregan School Study Council, 33(2), pp. 1–57. Swift, J. (1996) ‘Critical studies: a Trojan horse’, in Dawtrey, L., Jackson, T., Masterton, M. and Meecham, P. (eds), Critical Studies and Modern Art. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press. Wilde, C. (1999) ‘Theory in the education of the fine artist’, International Journal of Art and Design Education, 18(1): 49–53. Williams, G. (1994) ‘The practitioner, once a ubiquitous presence in art and design, is now a rarity: a history of the blooming and decline of the species’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications. Williams, R. (1983) Culture and Society: 1780–1950. New York: Columbia University Press. Wilson, B. (2003) ‘Of diagrams and rhizomes: visual cultural retreat’, Studies in Art Education, 46(2): 191–2. Young, M. F. D. (1971) ‘An approach to the study of curricula as socially organised knowledge’, in Young, M. F. D. (ed.), Knowledge and Control. London: Collier-Macmillan, pp. 19–46. Young, M. (2008) Bringing Knowledge Back In: From Social Constructivism to Social Realism in the Sociology of Education. Abingdon: Routledge.

PART II

Models, types and tensions

4 CASE STUDY EXAMPLES Introducing elements of the research process

This chapter provides a context for case study data, referenced in the remainder of the book, which highlights current practices of CCS and its integration in art and design education in England. Following a brief introduction to the course on which the case studies focused – the BTEC1 Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) – the chapter discusses the case selection process and subsequently outlines elements of the fieldwork.

The EDAD case study course Around 400 courses in the UK provide a foundation stage in art and design, approximately 165 of which are BTEC EDADs.This is significant to post-compulsory education in that it is an increasingly popular route to university and is the first time that students have the opportunity to specialise exclusively in art and design after completing compulsory schooling. The EDAD is a two-year Level 3 qualification (see Figure 0.1); until 2016 it comprised eighteen curriculum units, of which five must always be present in any student’s programme (normally termed ‘compulsory units’). From 2016, the BTEC was reduced to thirteen units of which seven are mandatory; four of these seven are now externally assessed, a move towards regulated national standards. Throughout these changes, CCS has remained a compulsory unit (although its identity has shifted). In 2010, the name of this element of the course was changed from ‘Historical and Contextual Influences in Art and Design’ to ‘Contextual Influences in Art and Design’. In 2016, it became ‘Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design’ and moved from being named ‘unit 5’ to ‘unit 2’. Questions over whether the shifts in constructions of CCS point to positive flexibility or confusing instability are apparent in the data that follow in Chapter 5. As the data on EDAD courses were gathered while CCS was ‘unit 5’, this is the unit number referenced throughout this and the remaining chapters.

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Although it is not the only route to a degree, many students completing an EDAD will go on to study art and design at degree level. Other students complete A-level courses in school or college and some (fewer and fewer) then do a one-year Art Foundation (Foundation Diploma) course before a degree. Such students have had three years’ post-compulsory education, predominantly ‘academic’ in nature. The EDAD represents a shorter, more vocationally focused route to university study in art and design. Despite this, it is less visible in the field of art education research than ‘academic route’ courses of an equivalent or higher level. The National Qualifications Framework (NQF) diagram (Figure 0.1), which maps levels of study and corresponding courses in art and design, locates the EDAD within the art education structure. The solid arrows illustrate the most common route for EDAD students.The EDAD programme is a good model of reference because of its significant and formative position within art and design education. The recommended entry requirement for the EDAD is four GCSE passes at A*–C, while the A-level route requires five. Despite the parity in level and UCAS2 points, there is disparity in both its perceived status and the academic backgrounds of students on these two routes. While a proportion of EDAD students have achieved more than 5 A*–C GCSE grades, others meet only the minimum entry requirements. Consequently, the student body on EDAD programmes encompasses a wide range of abilities; some have found ‘academic’ and written subjects in compulsory schooling very difficult, while others have excelled in these subjects.This difference may come into sharp relief in the activities and assessment processes of CCS. The issue of integration is pertinent in this particular course in that Edexcel,3 the examining body, encourages CCS integration. Prior to 2008, the Edexcel website made available a separate CCS (unit 5) scheme of work sample, signalling that CCS was a discrete curriculum entity. This was replaced by a series of sample briefs that position unit 5 within projects that address practical units. This appears to mark a shift away from CCS being conceived as a separate and deliverable body of knowledge towards an integrated curriculum design, delivery and assessment. As well as being evident in the documentation, conversations with the examining body indicated such a shift. In an email exchange, a representative of Edexcel stated that students should be encouraged to write and analyse but that the ‘formal academic essay’ should be avoided (email response from the Edexcel ‘Ask the Expert’ service, 29 January 2010). This suggests that, ideally, CCS should be positioned within and integrated with art practice, rather than located and delivered as a separate subject. As suggested in Chapter 3, integration is an educational goal that is frequently deemed preferable to a separate-subject approach. What this means, and whether a separate-subject approach is incompatible with integration, is discussed in more detail in the ‘Recommendations and proposals’ chapters.

Case selection The chapters that follow make reference to mixed-method research on the EDAD in the UK. This research, completed in 2012, involved a questionnaire survey

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followed by five in-depth qualitative case studies. Each case study included observation, interviews with students and staff and the production of visual representations by students. Questionnaires were sent to 180 institutions in the UK delivering the EDAD, sixty of which were completed and returned (a response rate of 33 per cent). In most cases, a course manager, programme leader or someone in a similar role completed the questionnaires. The purpose of the survey stage was twofold. First, it enabled a broad mapping of the field, which gave a good indication of the different ways in which CCS – or a ‘theory’ component of the course – was described. Second, it provided a basis from which to choose case studies that would allow exploration of the relationship between the practice-/studio-focused and theoretical/contextual elements in art education. The five case studies were chosen to reflect the diversity of models for delivering CCS: specifically the various ways in which CCS can be understood as being ‘integrated’ into an art and design course. In Flyvbjerg’s (2006) terms, the cases were selected according to ‘informationoriented selection’ rather than ‘random selection’, in order to provide examples for ‘maximum variation’ (Flyvbjerg, 2006). The intention is for staff or student readers to find aspects of these cases that resonate with their experiences, as well as to see a variety of learning cultures that students experience before starting university. The questionnaire data provided some starting points for discussing integration. For example, respondents were asked to identify the proportion of timetabled hours dedicated to unit 5 within their programme (if any) and how this was structured in terms of curriculum design, content and delivery (for example, the point at which CCS is taught in the course and who delivers it). At first glance, the questionnaire data suggest a straightforward distinction: 25 per cent (fifteen out of sixty) indicated that CCS was ‘integrated into practical lessons’ and around 53 per cent (thirty-two out of sixty) that it was ‘taught separately from practical lessons’. However, other elements of the questionnaire data suggest the multifaceted nature of perceptions and practices of integration, as well as the complexity of the topic. For example, in nineteen of the thirty-two cases of CCS being ‘taught separately’, CCS staff made explicit contributions to other practice-oriented parts of the course or unit 5 was assessed in other parts of the course. This left only thirteen courses in which, according to the questionnaire responses, CCS appeared to be conceived and organised as a discrete entity; one of the five case studies was selected from this group: Wrickford FE College (referred to as Wrickford).4 Of the fifteen courses that appeared to have ‘integrated’ provision were five instances of what might be termed ‘non-integrated delivery’ (such as discretely timetabled CCS lectures and ‘complete lessons just on unit 5’). These appeared to be sporadic or occasional rather than formal and regular. Two of the five case studies were selected from this group: Barrinborough Sixth Form College (referred to as Barrinborough) and Penton Art College (Penton). The term ‘integration’ was used in the questionnaire without a prescribed definition, creating inconsistency in interpretation. Rather than this ambiguity of language being a ‘problem’ (Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2007: 324), this enabled participants to indicate their perceptions of integration and demonstrated the incompatibility between perceptions and practices.

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Wrickford and Penton were selected as useful ‘extreme cases’ (Flyvbjerg, 2006), since they illustrate disparate aspects of the dimensions or continua on which the conception and practice of CCS sit. The questionnaire return from Wrickford suggested that CCS was detached from the other (studio-based, core) units of study and that it had a distinct curricular and pedagogic identity. An art history tutor teaches exclusively on this unit and has no involvement in the rest of the course. CCS is physically isolated from studio practice in terms of the learning site; unlike the rest of the course, it is delivered in a classroom setting. In contrast, at Penton, CCS is positioned within practical units in a studio setting in which students work on integrated projects. While Wrickford has one allocated member of staff to teach CCS only, Penton has a CCS team that collaborates with the practical art teaching team. The cases therefore offer a contrast between two apparently distinct models of CCS delivery, allowing comparisons to be made between how ‘theory’ can be identified and integrated within the course and the ways in which students engage with these contrasting models. While Penton was selected as an example of integrated and Wrickford as an example of discrete CCS delivery, Rensworth University of Art (referred to as Rensworth) was selected as an example of an institution combining both integrated and discrete elements of CCS. Rensworth dedicates a discrete curricular space to CCS; however, the content is designed to relate to practical projects. As a dedicated arts institution, Rensworth was also selected as a second ‘paradigmatic case’ (Flyvbjerg, 2006); along with Penton, this makes two of the five cases specialist arts institutions. The majority of returned questionnaires were from FE colleges, so a second FE college was selected alongside Wrickford: Hillburton FE College (Hillburton). Hillburton was chosen as a ‘critical case’ (Flyvbjerg, 2006) in that the questionnaire return demonstrated a peculiarity: staff deem integration to be very important and yet CCS is delivered discretely. Barrinborough was selected in contrast to the other four cases; there are no specific CCS staff at Barrinborough, nor is there any timetabled CCS provision. CCS at Barrinborough takes on a marginal role.

Fieldwork: observation and interview Fieldwork at each site began with an observation of a studio session and a CCS session or (where there was no distinct CCS session) an observation of a studio session in which students were working towards CCS criteria. Observations were hypothesisgenerating rather than hypothesis-testing (Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2007) within a framework of key themes including learning site, learning culture, curriculum and pedagogy. Observations were followed by semi-structured interviews (see Bogdan and Biklen, 1992; Mason, 2002: 62; Noaks and Wincup, 2004: 80), which combined planned questions with a flexible structure and scope to deviate. Interviews were ‘conversational’ but the dynamics were managed (Kvale, 1996) with some level of control (Rapley, 2004). Flexibility was included to allow dialogue to develop according to what the interviewee deemed salient in the immediate context of the interview, while the direction of the interview was simultaneously managed in terms of opening and closing the narrative. This approach, which allows for the

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interviewer and interviewee to actively make sense of the interview data together, is much like Holstein and Gubrium’s (2004) ‘active interview’. This facilitated a process of interviewees ‘co-constructing’ (Walford, 2001) the interview, whereby data generation and data analysis are developed simultaneously by both interviewee and the interviewer, as in Mason’s (2002) ‘collaborative dialectical process’. Rather than approaching interview data in one of two ways – either as constructed narrative (‘cultural’) or as providing access to authentic experiences (‘natural’) (Silverman, 2006: 146) – the approach was in line with Miller and Glassner’s (2004: 138) suggestion that this dualism is artificial (the ‘cultural’ and ‘natural’ are not so neatly distinguishable).The interviews were conducted according to the premise that they were situated, while simultaneously opening possibilities for comparison. Interviews began with the course manager; a second round of interviews took place with the CCS tutor(s). At Wrickford and Hillburton (both FE colleges), one CCS tutor was interviewed; at Penton and Rensworth (both specialist arts institutions), there was a CCS coordinator and several staff contributing to the CCS provision, each of whom was interviewed; at Barrinborough (sixth-form college), there were three members of staff on the EDAD teaching team in total, all of whom delivered across the whole programme and all of whom were interviewed. Staff interviews varied, therefore, according to the staff structure at each site. In the final fieldwork stage, groups of six or seven students were interviewed. These were lively and informative occasions. Sometimes prompt questions generated a discussion among the group, while at other times direct questions were asked and each student gave a response. A potential problem with group interviews is that the dominant consensus of the group may silence some of the voices that have contrary opinions, creating a ‘group think’ (Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2007) in which a ‘public line’ might take precedence over more personal responses (Arksey and Knight, 1999: 76). As Hayes points out, if ‘group members regard their opinions as contrary to prevailing opinion within the group, they might be inclined to keep quiet, or moderate their views somewhat’ (Hayes, 2000: 115). If this is the case, Laws (2003: 300) advises that periodic checks, agreed by all group members, may help – but do not necessarily encourage – students to offer opinions that are different to those of their peers. The fieldwork went some way to mitigating this potential effect by combining each group interview with a visual task, in which students individually produced drawn representations of the course. These images were used as a prompt for discussion; each student was asked to explain what they had drawn and why, affording them the opportunity to present a more personal view of the course using a familiar (or even comfortable) mode of expression. This part of the fieldwork therefore provided opportunities to learn about both individual and collective aspects of the learning culture. Discussion in the following chapters follows the logic of Flyvbjerg, who states that formal (irrefutable) generalisation is ‘overvalued as a source of scientific development, whereas “the force of example” is underestimated’ (Flyvbjerg, 2006). The fact that the five case study examples occur implies that elements of them have the potential to occur elsewhere; the approach of Guba and Lincoln’s (1981) ‘fittingness’ is used to decipher the degree to which one situation matches another.

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The intention is that readers will find the following chapters useful in sharpening their perceptions of their own experiences of an art and design curriculum. Using the detail in these cases to think about other situations is the aim here; as Eisner proposes: ‘We don’t use generalisations drawn from the specific case to draw conclusions about other situations but, rather, we use them to search those situations more efficiently’ (Eisner, 2003: 57). I suggest that each case provides some insight into the wider field of CCS in art education; while each case is a ‘bounded system’ (Stake, 2000: 436), each exists within the context, or broader system, of shared subject histories and experiences.

Notes 1 The BTEC is an Edexcel ‘learning brand’. It came under the ownership of Edexcel in 1996; for thirteen years prior to this, BTEC (the Business and Technology Education Council) was an organisation that accredited vocational qualifications. 2 UCAS is the Universities and Colleges Admissions Service in the UK for students applying to university and post-16 education. Its ‘points’ system is a scoring tariff system that allocates points to qualifications for application to HE. 3 Edexcel is one of the leading examining and awarding bodies in the UK, of which there are six (AQA, City and Guilds, LCCI, OCR, Cambridge Assessment and Edexcel). Fully owned by Pearson since 2005, Edexcel was formed in 1996 through a merging of BTEC and the University of London Examination and Assessment Council (ULEAC). Prior to 1996, BTEC was the leading provider of vocational qualifications, and ULEAC was one of the 10 major exam boards for GCSE and A-level qualifications. Edexcel qualifications can be taken in schools, colleges, universities or work places. 4 All institutions and staff have been given pseudonyms.

References Arksey, H. and Knight, P. (1999) Interviewing for Social Scientists. London: Sage. Bogdan, R. G. and Biklen, S. K. (1992) Qualitative Research for Education, 2nd edition. Boston, MA: Allyn and Bacon. Cohen, L., Manion, L. and Morrison K. (2007) Research Methods in Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Eisner, E. (2003) ‘Qualitative research in the new millennium’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Issues in Art and Design Teaching. London and New York: Routledge Falmer, pp. 52–60. Flyvbjerg, B. (2006) ‘Five misunderstandings about case-study research’, Qualitative Enquiry, 12(2): 219–45. Guba, E. G. and Lincoln, Y. S. (1981) Effective Evaluation: Improving the Usefulness of Evaluation Results through Responsive and Naturalistic Approaches. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. Hayes, N. (2000) Doing Psychological Research: Gathering and Analyzing Data. Buckingham: Open University Press. Holstein, J. and Gubrium, J. (2004) ‘The active interview’, in Silverman, D. (ed.), Qualitative Research: Theory, Method, Practice, 2nd edition. London: Sage, pp. 140–61. Kvale, S. (1996) Interviews. London: Sage. Laws, S. (2003) Research for Development: A Practical Guide. London: Sage. Mason, J. (2002) Qualitative Researching, 2nd edition. London: Sage.

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Miller, J. and Glassner, B. (2004) ‘The “inside” and the “outside”: finding realities in interviews’, in Silverman, D. (ed.), Qualitative Research: Theory, Method and Practice, 2nd edition. London: Sage, pp. 125–39. Noaks, L. and Wincup, E. (2004) Criminological Research: Understanding Qualitative Methods. London: Sage. Rapley, T. (2004) ‘Interviews’, in Searle, C., Gobo, G., Gubrium, J. and Silverman, D. (eds), Qualitative Research Practice. London: Sage, pp. 15–33. Silverman, D. (2006) Interpreting Qualitative Data, 3rd edition. London: Sage. Stake, R. E. (2000) ‘Case studies’, in Denzin, N. K. and Lincoln, Y. S. (eds), Handbook of Qualitative Research, 2nd edition. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, pp. 435–54. Walford, G. (2001) Doing Qualitative Educational Research: A Personal Guide to the Research Process. London: Continuum.

5 LOCATING THEORY The lecture theatre and the studio

Introduction Flexible yet also displaced, CCS is sometimes camouflaged within the course culture in which it is situated; at other times it retains a distinct position that is apparently incompatible with the rest of the course. Whether an assessed unit or module or a more informal part of the course, then, CCS is an unsettled entity. At best, this variability offers flexibility: CCS can be tailored to accommodate available course resources and to satisfy student dispositions and staff specialisms in each individual institution. At worst, however, the undefined nature of CCS creates ambiguity among staff. Consequences of this might include defaulting to a form of delivery merely for assessment or an approach that replicates the CCS provision that staff experienced in their own art and design education. This chapter presents an analysis of CCS provision through a process of comparison. It addresses five case study art and design courses individually in order to identify notions of CCS within each. The case studies look at British Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) courses (introduced in the previous chapter) and are presented as vignettes so that staff teaching in post-compulsory education can relate them to their own experiences of CCS. Each vignette details the organisation of CCS, staff and student perspectives on the course structure and reflections on emergent themes regarding integration of CCS within the course. The intention is for readers to refer back to these vignettes while reading the chapters that follow. Bernstein’s classification and framing (1971) form the crux of the analysis presented here, in that they help to position CCS. CCS ranges from being integral to art and design studio practice to a tightly classified independent discipline delivered in a lecture theatre. Superficially, these two positions appear to be disparate ‘ideal types’. Following a brief introductory analysis of this studio/lecture theatre dualism

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(with reference to Bernstein), this chapter explores models of formal and informal, and recognised and hidden, CCS in each case.

Formal and informal CCS: the lecture theatre/studio binary Typically, the lecture format facilitates a tutor-led delivery of a pre-prepared body of knowledge in a controlled learning environment; one dominant orator imparts knowledge to the student body. The typical assessment method here is formal academic writing: the essay. The studio format, on the other hand, is more typically student-centred and has the potential for more spontaneous dialogue. In the studio, assessment usually comprises visual, oral and written documentation and presentation of individual responses to a brief. These differences in pedagogy and assessment construct and reinforce two distinct learning cultures: the studio model and the lecture theatre model. As such, art and design students must negotiate two discrete ‘communities of practice’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991), usually simultaneously. As ‘ideal types’ (and therefore in their most extreme forms), CCS in the lecture theatre and CCS in the studio are linguistically disparate; they operate within distinct cultures or codes and shape behaviours, languages and interactions in each site, which are maintained through repetition. The studio vernacular, with its visual languages and knowledge generation through making and conversing, appears at odds with the language of the lecture theatre. At the start of a course, students are negotiating their positions as ‘legitimate peripheral participators’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991) within both of these spaces as they move towards ‘full participation’. Over the duration of the course, students are likely to become more conversant in the language of the studio than that of the lecture theatre, not least because they are likely to spend most time in the former. It is not only familiarity that can impact on students’ ability to become ‘master practitioners’ in the studio over the lecture theatre. Bourdieu and Passeron (1994) discuss a general ‘linguistic misunderstanding’ in the lecture theatre that normalises a rift between the student body and the lecturer’s voice. In this sense, the language barrier in the lecture theatre is typically one that students cannot, and do not expect to, penetrate. While the ‘ideal types’ of CCS in the studio and CCS in the lecture theatre appear to be dichotomous constructs, they often coexist in any one institution or course. In addition, these ideal types are two ends of a continuum that opens up possibilities for multiple variations in CCS. Such a continuum spans from discrete (in the lecture theatre) to dispersed (in the studio) CCS; whichever its location, CCS comes in various degrees of ‘discrete’ or ‘dispersed’, but each course usually has a dominant format that is recognised as ‘CCS’. Bernstein’s collection code and integrated code (Bernstein, 1971) are useful for thinking about the design of these location-based models.

A Bernsteinian framework for analysis Bernstein’s collection code and integrated code provide a basis for examining the organisation of knowledge in the curriculum and the relationship between ‘theory’ and

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‘practice’ in CCS and studio practice. The collection code and the integrated code can be understood as two broad types of course design; in Bernstein’s (1971) terms, these are based on educational knowledge codes that are shaped by curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation. The collection code is one in which the curriculum compartmentalises knowledge and there is a tight framework for transmitting that knowledge (i.e. where pedagogy is carefully controlled).The collection code therefore has similarities with a curriculum of distinct units or modules. Where CCS content, delivery and assessment are isolated from the studio, CCS and studio practice become discrete ‘contents’ that ‘stand in a closed relation to each other . . . the contents are clearly bounded and insulated from one another’ (Bernstein, 1971: 49). Models of CCS most closely related to the collection code are typically (though not exclusively) closest to the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the lecture theatre. In contrast, Bernstein’s integrated code is one without boundaries between knowledges or subjects; ‘the contents stand in an open relation to each other’ (Bernstein, 1971: 49). Within the integrated code, boundaries between subjects and knowledges might be blurred. Pedagogically, there may be variety and a looser frame around what and how information is transmitted and received. This curriculum type relates to courses in which there is a dialogue between CCS and studio practice, or where CCS is indistinguishable as a separate subject or knowledge system. Typically (although again, not exclusively), the integrated code manifests in the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the studio. Just as CCS comes in various forms on a continuum from discrete to dispersed and transgresses the lecture theatre/studio binary, so too Bernstein’s collection and integrated codes come in various strengths and types. The various manifestations of the two curriculum codes depend on the ways in which knowledge is ‘classified’ or ‘framed’, to use Bernstein’s (1971) terms. This forms a useful guide for thinking about the ways in which CCS is designed into an art and design course. Classification refers to the ‘relationships between contents’ (Bernstein, 1971: 49) in the curriculum (rather than the contents themselves) and the strength of the boundaries between them. With strong classification, one set of contents is acutely distinct from another. For example, according to Bernstein’s model of strong classification, the knowledges associated with CCS and the practicebased knowledges of the studio would be insulated from one another with no cross-boundary merging. Where classification is weak, the two sets of contents would overlap; their boundaries would be blurred. Framing refers to the ‘form of the context in which knowledge is transmitted and received’ (Bernstein, 1971: 50); that is, the structure of pedagogy (rather than pedagogical content) and the boundaries between what can and cannot be transmitted. In strong framing there is tight control over the organisation and pace of knowledge transmission; in CCS, this might look like a lecture theatre format. Where framing is weak, the boundary between what may and may not be transmitted is blurred; this could apply to CCS that is dispersed informally or in which neither teacher nor student have much control over the selection, organisation or pace of the knowledge transmitted and received. Bernstein uses variations in the strength

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of classification to analyse the message system ‘curriculum’, in the strength of frame to analyse ‘pedagogy’ and the strength of both to analyse ‘evaluation’ (Bernstein, 1971: 50). In the following section, each of the five case study EDAD courses are presented as vignettes, with reference to Bernstein’s education codes to help identify models of CCS at each site. Some comparative conclusions are then drawn before the more detailed analysis of specific themes in the following chapters. As will become clear, it is not only knowledge hierarchies (Chapters 2 and 3) that impact upon a subject’s status and identity in the curriculum, but also the dispositions of the staff members responsible for the subject, including how they view and manage their roles. It is useful to note this sociological perspective on curricula in relation to Goodson (1995 [1988]) (discussed further in Chapter 7). On this basis, the following section is concerned with identifying the position of CCS within art and design education, opening up broader questions on what a theory/practice relationship means for art and design and paving the way for subsequent chapters to discuss the meaning of integration within art education.

The five case studies: Wrickford Wrickford is a general further education (FE) college in a city in the south-west of England that attracts predominantly local students. The college is divided into departments, each on a separate floor of the building, one of which is art and design. As well as the BTEC EDAD, Wrickford offers BTEC First Diploma, BTEC National Award and BTEC National Certificate programmes. The college recently introduced a Foundation Degree in art and design; prior to this, the EDAD was its highest-level qualification. Wrickford also offers Extended Diplomas (EDs) in 3D design, fashion and clothing, graphic design and photography; a generic CCS provision is delivered across each of these. At the time of data collection Wrickford had two EDAD groups containing a total of fifty-five students, most of whom were expected to progress to either higher education (HE) or employment (as had previous groups). The institution distinguishes between academic and vocational routes; A-level art and design is taught but is contained within the A-level team, and therefore managed and delivered quite separately.

The organisation of CCS At Wrickford, staff term CCS both ‘art history’ and ‘contextual studies’ and students term it ‘art history’. CCS is contained within the first year in a weekly two-hour session, which the course manager described as a ‘lecture’; this takes place in a classroom setting – unlike the rest of the course, which is studio-based. Two contact hours per week are allocated for CCS; the remaining thirteen take place within studio spaces. CCS is designed, delivered and assessed by an art historian, who is identified as the ‘contextual studies tutor’ or ‘art history tutor’ in a team

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of six part-time members of staff. The key skills tutor at Wrickford attends the CCS sessions, at times team-teaching with the CCS tutor; while his focus in this role is on reading and writing skills, his background is in fine art. The CCS tutor determines the CCS course content and is not involved in any other aspects of the course. In terms of Bernstein’s education codes, classification is strong – the body of knowledge within CCS is insulated from other aspects of the course. Lessons present a history of art movements through the twentieth century; for example, a CCS lesson on Dada and Surrealism was observed, in which a slide presentation covered a range of relevant themes, visual material and artists. For the CCS assessment, students are required to write an essay and give a presentation, both linked to the lecture programme content. CCS is thus discrete in terms of staffing, location, assessment and identity. In addition to the CCS programme there is an unassessed ‘visual communication’ programme, which introduces first-year students to critical thinking and philosophy. This programme is taught as a discrete element by an external tutor and is more akin to Visual Culture than the art history taught in the CCS lectures. This type of provision is not common at this level. Despite its discrete structure, CCS is not confined to the lecture theatre; elements of it also occur informally in the studio to help students focus in their practical work: We don’t have a structured specific [CCS] task for them to do [in the studio]; it’s not related to an assessment. CCS exists there to point them in the direction of doing some work, but it’s not tied into the specs [course specifications]. (Course manager) There is an assumption that such studio-based CCS occurs consistently throughout the course: I think the best tutors engage the students in discussing these things anyway, in looking at work, just opening up discussion generally on aesthetics and the purpose of design. This is all part of the CCS criteria but it isn’t officially taught or identified. (Course manager) Where CCS is integrated into studio practice in this way, its classification is weak in Bernstein’s terms and it disappears as a category; CCS comes in various guises but is not always formally recognised if it is not formally assessed.

Staff perceptions The course manager at Wrickford describes the discrete CCS structure as a means to achieve standardisation and rigour across all ED courses in formal and generic

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‘organised sessions’. This structure was implemented three years previously, after a long period in which CCS organisation and delivery had been managed internally within each course. The course manager describes this previous model as varying in quality across courses: . . . most courses had someone who was willing to take it on, or otherwise the course manager tried to integrate it across units. But students on some courses were missing out on depth or breadth of theory. (Course manager) As well as standardising quality, having a distinct CCS tutor allows other staff to be relieved of what the course manager described as ‘that tricky subject’. When asked what would happen to CCS if there were no allocated specialist CCS tutor to deliver across all programmes, his response was: It depends on what staff you’ve got available. Some people just wouldn’t [deliver anything]. They’d probably try but they’d make an awful job of it because their knowledge isn’t there. Some others might be stressed because of having to do the reading . . . and keep up with it. (Course manager) The studio staff perceive there to be a body of CCS knowledge that is important to impart, setting it apart from studio practice. While CCS is seen as imperative within the course, studio staff also assume that it is difficult to teach. There is sometimes a ‘dispositional’ element to this view, evident in the course manager’s own experience of the subject: I didn’t learn any art history while I was a student; it wasn’t until I started teaching, at 25 . . . since then it has been one of the most valuable things I’ve ever done. I say that to the students. Most people, you ask them later in life what has been the most important thing that has supported their own work and their own idea about their knowledge and their skills and being an artist or a creative person, and they’ll say what they’ve learnt about the historical and contextual aspect of it. It’s very, very important to your identity and feeds back into everything you do. (Course manager) As Goodson (1995 [1988]) demonstrates, a subject’s status is determined not only by the knowledge hierarchies and organisational structures of its historical development, but also by the dispositions of staff members responsible for the subject and how they view and manage their roles. Staff dispositions are often a key element of the learning culture (James and Biesta, 2007; Hodkinson, Biesta and James, 2007); at Wrickford, this is apparent in the separate conceptions of the studio and CCS. This implies two distinct elements that are insulated from one another in terms of

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both the curriculum (strong classification, in Bernstein’s terms) and the broader learning culture of staffing and spaces.

Student perceptions At Wrickford, students continually refer to their studio practice as ‘work’. CCS is seen as a distinct element in the course that is secondary, and sometimes superfluous, to studio practice: ‘It’s on its own. I see it as a separate lesson, as if it is a completely different thing to what we do [in the studio]’ (First-year student). Students describe CCS in the lecture theatre as ‘neat’ and the studio as ‘messy’, marking studio practice and CCS in the lecture theatre apart in terms of form and setting. In terms of content, CCS in the lecture theatre is described as ‘like background to what you’re doing now; the reasons behind it, the people who have done it before, the people who are good at it’ (First-year student). The structured, contained and controlled content, delivery and assessment of CCS at Wrickford left little room for ambiguity, which according to students was abundant in the studio: When they [the CCS tutor] asked us to do something they gave us a piece of paper which explained exactly what we had to do and I would refer back to that and so I could know what I’m doing. But [in the studio] because it’s art it’s so wide and you can do whatever you want, so it’s like: ‘What do I have to do? I don’t have a clue!’ Art history is a lot easier [than studio practice]; they [CCS tutors] are a lot more clear. (Second-year student) The tightly framed and classified (in Bernstein’s terms) art history lessons are discussed by first-year students as clear and the studio aspects, with their weak framing, as ‘confusing’. For first-year students at this level, CCS lessons appear to have more in common with the learning culture (Lave and Wenger, 1991) of the school environment. The studio, however, is a learning culture in which students enter as ‘legitimate peripheral participators’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991). The learning culture attached to the broader visual communication workshops, which involve subject knowledge and critical questioning more common to HE than FE, are also perceived to be confusing, complex and abstract, while the formal CCS lectures are more tangible and coherent: It [visual communication] came in no use at all really. It kind of made you more confused, because I don’t think we were at that stage of thinking about that yet. It was too complicated. (Second-year student) Students understand the linear, codified, lecture-based art history; it is a knowledge system that is tangible, coherent and ‘applied’ – in that it results in an assessment outcome. The broader philosophical thinking of visual communication, however,

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is more difficult for them to apply; first-year students were not equipped to see the broader relevance of their visual communication workshops and were unable to integrate these ‘theory’ elements into their practice. There is no discrete CCS provision in the second year of the EDAD at Wrickford; the CCS unit (unit 5) is completed in the first year. When asked whether studio tutors talk about other artists or about art history in the second year, students shared the view that although second-year tutors do include a form of CCS, this is limited, narrow or uninteresting. A typical view is demonstrated in the following response: ‘They [the studio staff] just go through a slide show and go “This is . . . Francis Bacon” . . . then they turn around and go “Is it? Wait . . . ”’ (Second-year student). Students at Wrickford suggest that these second-year studio slide shows provide exposure to imagery without any critical engagement. The studio staff are not described as having the same status in CCS delivery as the specialist CCS tutor; they are perceived to be less knowledgeable.

Wrickford: natural integration? Arrangements at Wrickford generate and maintain a learning culture in which art and design practice is separate from, though connected to, CCS. Both the CCS tutor and content are clearly distinct from the identity, language and approach of studio staff and practice. The strong classification and framing (Bernstein, 1971) of the CCS in the lecture theatre render this part of the course coherent and authoritative. Studio practice at Wrickford demonstrates weaker classification and framing, forming a less directed, more exploratory and openly developmental part of the course; consequently, some students at this level perceive it as more ‘confusing’. Furthermore, when the CCS in the lecture theatre style of teaching is ‘integrated’ into the studio (facilitated by studio staff), students perceive it to be of questionable quality. According to students, part of this problem is the lack of specialist knowledge. The implication is that the staff who deliver these slide shows do not have the knowledge of the specialist CCS staff or the pedagogic authority (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994) of the lecture theatre. Thus the arrangements at Wrickford appear to create the conditions for integration to occur ‘naturally’ – student by student – but also produce examples of unsuccessful ‘deliberate’ integration.

The five case studies: Penton Penton is a specialist art and design college in the south of England that attracts students from within and beyond the local area. Penton offers courses found across FE and HE: BTEC First Diploma, BTEC National Award, BTEC National Certificate, Foundation with AS Critical Studies and Foundation Degrees in animation; film; photography; graphic design; illustration; fashion; applied arts; fine art; game design; and spatial design. All Foundation Degrees have a BA (Hons) top-up award. As well as the EDAD, Penton offers EDs in 3D design; graphic design; interactive media; photography; and fashion and textiles.

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At the time of data collection, fifty-four students were enrolled in the first year of the EDAD course, split into two groups of twenty-seven. The majority of the year group was expected to progress to HE at either Penton or another institution (as had previous year groups); the remaining few were expected to progress to employment.

The organisation of CCS CCS is termed ‘concepts’ by staff; students do not identify it using a specific term. There is no distinct CCS tutor within the course and no timetabled hours for CCS delivery. Three tutors (including the course manager) staff the EDAD course, all of whom teach across the entire range of units (including elements of CCS), with the shared aim of creating an integrated course. This arrangement is unique at Penton; on all of its other FE and HE courses CCS is managed and delivered by a central cross-college CCS team, making the EDAD an exception in its local context. CCS is spread across the two-year course and based in one open studio space. In the first year, students work on projects in which they address unit 5 criteria as part of studio practice; for example, through researching specific artists or exploring particular theories (such as colour theory) in direct relation to a practical process or outcome. In the second year, in contrast, the students have some formal CCS teaching in the form of studio-based seminars with a slide show; these cover either a movement or a ten-year period, which the students then independently research in more detail. Assessed outcomes for CCS are in the form of a CCS ‘box’, in which individual students assemble a portfolio collection. CCS is thus embedded into the course as a whole. Nationally, most EDAD courses deliver unit 5 (the compulsory CCS unit) in one year only, although some follow this with unit 13 (an optional CCS unit) in the second year. At Penton, however, CCS in the form of unit 5 is dispersed throughout the two-year course as an integrated unit.

Staff perceptions The team of three EDAD staff describes the course as offering an integrated provision and sees this as an important feature of art and design. At the same time, the cross-college CCS team shares a strong feeling that the integrated CCS practised on the EDAD course has resulted in a ‘loss [of] identity’ for CCS (cross-college CCS team member).This is more than a difference of opinion; the interests of each staff group overlap with their advocacy of a specific model. While the cross-college CCS team supports discrete CCS provision, the EDAD team supports an integrated CCS provision. Each staff group perceives its control of and approach to CCS to be under threat within the college. The EDAD team fears that the cross-college CCS team, which is part of middle management, has the power to disrupt the integrated CCS that the EDAD team has established. Meanwhile, members of the crosscollege CCS team feel vulnerable after a recent redefinition of their work by senior management as ‘servicing’ (along the same lines as provision that helps students

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with key skills or study skills); they perceive this as a denial of serious disciplinary identity. As one member of the group put it: [Senior management] don’t really have an understanding that contextual, historical and critical studies is a discipline which is essential and central to all the things they [art and design students] do in order to enhance what they do. (Cross-college CCS team member) In addition, one member of the cross-college team expressed concern that, when the organisation and delivery of CCS are left to the EDAD team, CCS ‘doesn’t become a thing in students’ heads that they perceive as important enough to have its own identity within the course’ (cross-college CCS team member). The CCS team is concerned about the status of CCS from the perspectives of students and the institution as a whole. As Goodson (1993) states, there is a correlation between perceived subject status and discretely organised subjects; subjects that are ‘tightly classified’ (Bernstein, 1971) are awarded a higher status than those with looser boundaries. In contrast, the EDAD staff at Penton thought that without their integrated model – an example of Bernstein’s integrated code – a hierarchical curriculum design would be imposed in which certain areas of the course would dominate: ‘I get a feeling that “history and contextual” is seen as having a higher status [within the college], as if it’s detached and not integrated’ (Tutor on EDAD team). The status of one course in relation to another and conceptions of subject hierarchy are a fundamental and abiding aspect of the culture in general FE colleges ( James and Biesta, 2007). Here, it appears as a feature of a more specialised art and design institution. EDAD staff deliberately act to maintain control of CCS; they view discrete, academic CCS – in accordance with Bernstein’s (1971) collection code – as a threat to the identity and status of art and design as a vocational, practical subject field. The ED is to be protected or defended from an ‘academic’ subject positioned further up the subject hierarchy (see, for example, Goodson, 1998). This leads the course manager to tighten control over the whole EDAD course – and the embedded position of CCS therein: They’re [course staff] all practical and history and contextual. We have one history and contextual lecturer [from the cross-college CCS team, who is allocated teaching hours within each course delivered at the college], and we timetable him in units that aren’t history and contextual! [Laughs.] So, for example, we’re just going into painting and visual communication so his session will be around developing thinking in terms of how artists have used paint media. It’s not a history and contextual unit, it’s communication and painting. Even if it was, Clare, myself or Pete,1 all of us can deliver history and contextual and creative, and it’s mixed in with all of the units anyway. We don’t deliver a creative unit without history and contextual, and we don’t deliver history and contextual without any creative input. (Course manager)

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Student perceptions At Penton, there appears to be a major shift in student perceptions of CCS between the first and second years. First-year students suggested that they did not feel they had ownership of their learning experience; they felt restricted in their practice and appeared confused about the course structure, within which ‘CCS’ is an unidentifiable element. The integrated approach at Penton serves to conceal the subject matter of CCS to the point that it is dissolved within the curriculum. As one student put it: I’d like to know what it [CCS] is, separate to my artwork; as it is now, everything is getting mixed up. They’re like ‘That is a part of history and contextual’ and we’re like ‘Well, you didn’t tell us’. (First-year student) When asked whether CCS has an impact on their own practice, a first-year student at Penton responded: ‘Not really because everything has been done.’ The question was interpreted not in terms of the student being inspired by the history and theory of art in their own practice, but in terms of the history and theory of art failing to provide anything new (particularly in terms of technique) that can be applied in practice. Despite staff efforts to encourage the integration of CCS and to embed theory within the course, first-year students found it impossible to articulate any clear notion of CCS or ‘theory’ and appeared unaware of how this can be effectively manifested in their practice. Interviews with second-year students demonstrated a clearer identity for CCS, as suggested in the following conversation about the visual representations used as part of data gathering in research: Interviewer: You are all putting historical and contextual into a prominent position in your drawings. Student 1: Yeah, it’s because I can find out about artists. Student 2: It’s inspiration. Interviewer: Do you think you’d have drawn historical and contextual in a similar way a year ago? Student 2: No!! [Laughs.] Student 1: No way. Interviewer: So what has changed? Student 1: My opinion of art. Student 2: We’ve just kind of matured really. Student 3: We’re more grown up. Student 1: I used to think that what I do is right and that no one else matters, but now I look at other people’s work and I think ‘Wow that is so cool’ and I add to my own. Student 4: I think history and contextual can play quite a big part because sometimes you need to look at artists, to see what style you are going for.You get a better idea of the area [of art and design] you

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are looking at, what it’s about . . . it helps you understand it better. It gives you a lot of ideas for your work that you can come back to later. The shift in views on CCS from first year to second year at Penton is a shift from confusion over how to make sense of CCS within the course to an understanding of its importance and position. However, it is also a shift from an integrated CCS to a discrete CCS – from Bernstein’s integrated code to collection code – where the first-year delivery of integrated CCS is based on tutors’ assumptions that students will find a discrete delivery and written element too difficult: They’re meant to [take written notes for CCS], we’re trying to get them into the habit . . . but it’s a bit of a . . . it’s a bit official for them. . . . A lot of students [on the old discrete CCS programme] . . . felt it was ‘too big’ and they just couldn’t catch up with it, you know; it just got too scary for them. (Course manager)

Penton: designed integration? At Penton, EDAD staff and cross-college CCS staff each perceive themselves to be best equipped to deliver CCS provision on the EDAD. Inter-team politics are a major force in shaping the learning culture, contributing to EDAD staff retaining control of CCS. EDAD staff see this way of working as supporting and nurturing the students, although it is plausible to describe it as a controlling idea of nurturance (Ecclestone and Hayes, 2008) in the first year of study. Integration in this first year is planned and managed as part of the curriculum. In the second year, increased student autonomy, some discrete CCS provision and a less prescribed model of integration appear to afford students the opportunity to develop a closer engagement with both their own practice and the course in general.

The five case studies: Rensworth Rensworth is one of five colleges within a specialist arts university in a city in the south-east of England. The college is divided into courses, each of which is on a separate floor of the building; in the case of the EDAD course, first-year studios are on one side of the corridor and second-year studios on the other. Rensworth delivers one other ED programme in addition to the EDAD: interactive media. As an institution delivering Level 3, 4, 5 and 6 qualifications (see Figure 0.1), Rensworth offers Foundation, Foundation Degree, BA (Hons) and MA-level programmes in art and design. The majority of students at Rensworth progress to HE courses, either internally or at other universities; the remainder move on to other FE courses or employment. At the time of data collection, there were three first-year EDAD groups with a total of 120 students; a further three groups in the second year contained a similar number of students.

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The organisation of CCS CCS is referred to as ‘critical and contextual studies’ at Rensworth. There are twenty-two contact hours per week on the EDAD course, of which three are timetabled for CCS in the form of unit 5 in year one and unit 13 (an optional CCS unit entitled ‘Specialist Contextual Investigation’) in year two. In year two, EDAD and Foundation students are brought together for CCS; this emphasises the parity between the vocational and the academic routes. There is a specific CCS coordinator who works exclusively on the EDAD course and manages the CCS provision; however, CCS delivery is shared among the whole of the EDAD team. While CCS in the second year is discrete, the provision in the first year consists of integrated briefs that cover several units. Briefs cover both visual analysis and creative practice; during one of the studio observations, students worked on a brief that included drawing exercises, painting exercises and vocabulary on ‘how to read a painting’. Links are drawn between studio and lecture theatre aspects of the course; for example, students were involved in a series of drawing exercises to be worked up into a painting and these were linked to a lecture theatre session on painting analysis, including form, content and process. Within this, students studied examples of work by Botticelli, Caravaggio, Holbein, Picasso and Lichtenstein, among others. The ways in which students are expected to ‘read’ these works are reminiscent of an AQA AS History of Art unit 1 exam paper. The second part of the lecture is based on critically analysing and creatively interpreting a painting in order to reach beyond the surface. In connection to the studio work and lecture theatre work, students were taken to two galleries to view these paintings and to practise their analysis. In Bernsteinian terms, the classification between contents is weak in this model; contents merge with, rather than sit in isolation from, one another. Although there is contrary evidence elsewhere, in this example the framing is strong; pedagogically, the provision is tightly controlled and boundaries between the transmission of knowledges are strong. As well as delivering the compulsory CCS unit (unit 5), Rensworth delivers the optional unit 13 (specialist contextual investigation) in the second year of the course – unlike the other four cases. There is, therefore, a formal assessed CCS provision throughout the two-year course. At the time of data collection, there was a staff development day dedicated exclusively to the provision of CCS across all FE and HE art and design courses within the university. This demonstrates the importance placed upon CCS at Rensworth and its identity as a distinct component in art and design.While the EDAD team members all contribute to CCS delivery and it therefore appears integrated, assessment and monitoring are the responsibility of the CCS coordinator. As a specialist arts university, Rensworth offers opportunities for EDAD students to progress internally to HE-level qualifications as well as preparing them to apply to external HE courses (for which both EDAD and Foundation art students

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are equally prepared). The second-year EDAD and Foundation students come together for the formal CCS in the lecture theatre programme and both groups are prepared for progression to degree-level programmes.

Staff perspectives The CCS coordinator encourages a shared responsibility for CCS: I’d like to see that we deliver, monitor and assess CCS as a team. (CCS coordinator) In order to achieve the type of integration that she envisions, staff will continue to deliver studio-based CCS but will also contribute through lectures and towards assessment. This designed integration is complex: I’d say that CCS is increasingly integrated because of my role, but there is more to be done. (CCS coordinator) The CCS coordinator role in this institution was created only a year before the data were collected with the intention of better integrating CCS. There is a desire among all staff at Rensworth for integrated provision – a desire that is not uncommon (as discussed in Chapter 3 with regard to Pring, 1971) – and the coordinator is in place to design this. This is not to say that CCS does not also have a discrete identity as ‘theory’, which staff support: For the students it’s very clear that me and Sarah [studio staff] are practitioners but that we also work with Jane [CCS coordinator] on a Monday, so we also do this separate thing, that is CCS. (EDAD staff member) Staff talk about CCS and studio practice in discrete terms; for them, integration is organised through ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ staff working together. When ‘practice’ staff deliver CCS, they retain their identities as practitioners; staff dispositions, as examined in Goodson (1995 [1988]), are key at Rensworth (this is discussed further in Chapter 7). Through curriculum design, students experience a consistent CCS provision over two years – one deemed significant by all staff and students. While teaching staff describe both CCS in the studio and CCS in the lecture theatre as ‘essential’ and are keen to contribute to both, they are reluctant to be involved in the assessment. One staff member said:

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Jane [the CCS coordinator] is working on making CCS more integrated, and it is a good thing for students to see studio staff lecturing and the CCS coordinator coming into the studio, but at the moment it is still mainly Jane who manages the assessing – I don’t think it’s easy to integrate that bit.

Student perceptions In the group interviews at Rensworth, the students talked at length about the importance of research within the course. This is defined as: artists research and the background to what we’re doing. Not just artists research, but research into new techniques and ideas and things. (First-year student) The following student demonstrates how students perceive the CCS provision in the first year: we have a lecture every Monday and we have to write notes for that, but they [tutors] also say ‘Research artists, research this, research that’. Monday is research day, the beginning of the week. But tutors talk to us about other artists and theories and ideas at all different times. (First-year student) This demonstrates both the lack of specific label attributed to CCS and the lack of boundary around what it might be. CCS is integrated throughout the course by all staff; despite this, the students are able to identify it, defining it as research on artists, development of ideas and ‘theory’. When asked if there is a specific member of staff linked to ‘CCS’, the response is: No, there can’t be because everyone needs to do that. If you don’t research artists your work is not going to make sense; if you don’t have that you don’t have ideas and you don’t have a final piece . . . I don’t think you can have practical without theory; but maybe you can have theory without practical if you’re doing something like art journalism. (First-year student) Students at Rensworth recognise forms of CCS that are fundamental to practice and yet also indicate that ‘theory’, which they understand as ‘CCS’, is distinct from ‘practice’. The parity drawn by tutors between the second-year EDAD students and the Foundation students at Rensworth is an attempt to dissolve the EDAD/Foundation course divide, perceived as a vocational/academic route split among most members of staff across all five sites:

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On Fridays Andrew and Jane do the lectures, and we are mixed in with the Foundation students. We start with a timeline, like art history, and then we do themes and theories. It’s really good because we were really worried about being mixed in with the foundation lot; I was worried we’d look like we didn’t know as much as them because, you know, they’re above us. But it was really good because we had already covered the 1851–1951 bit with Jane in the first year – that’s the art history bit. So it ended up being like a recap for us. So it was less intimidating being with the foundation lot because we actually knew more than them. It was a boost. (Second-year student)

Rensworth: collaboration as integration? CCS in the studio and CCS in the lecture theatre are both formalised at Rensworth, rather than one dominant model prevailing. While integrated through mixed-unit briefs and mixed-staff input, CCS also maintains a clear identity and clear progression through the course as a distinct lecture programme. Rather than CCS moving out of the lecture theatre and into the studio to achieve integration, staff collaborate in both spaces; studio staff take on lectures and the CCS coordinator teaches in the studio, thereby illustrating the collaboration and synthesis of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’. This is a model in which staff retain distinct identities as either theorists or practitioners while teaching across both the studio and the lecture theatre. Staff dispositions (in keeping with Goodson, 1995 [1988]) are key at Rensworth (see Chapter 7 for a more detailed discussion on this).

The five case studies: Barrinborough Barrinborough is a suburban sixth-form college in the south-east of England. The art and design department is adjacent to the main site building in a space reserved for all art and design teaching. The EDAD is delivered in two large studio spaces. Alongside the EDAD, the college delivers BTEC First Diploma, National Certificate and Foundation-level qualifications in art and design. The college does not deliver any other ED programmes in art and design. The vast majority of students on this course progress to the Foundation course at Barrinborough. According to the course manager, this is ‘because they live near [a large city] and colleges here are more difficult to get into’. There were twenty students enrolled in the first year of the course at the time of data collection, making Barrinborough the smallest EDAD course of the five studied.

The organisation of CCS CCS does not have a specific label at Barrinborough, apart from being referred to as ‘the essay’; the rest of the CCS provision is embedded. There are three members

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of staff on the EDAD team including the course manager, each of whom has their own practical specialism and shares in the delivery of unit 5 (CCS). None of these staff members has specific art history training, none want sole ownership of CCS and none wanted to be interviewed alone about CCS in case they ‘[didn’t] know the answers to the questions’ (Studio tutor). In this team of practitioners, CCS is perceived as unfamiliar territory. During a first-year studio session that was observed, students were working on a practical project with a worksheet that gave instructions on contextual referencing and research. While there are elements of CCS within the studio, there are also essay-writing workshops at the end of the first year. Students’ essays are used to assess both unit 5 and unit 13. EDAD students do not experience a discrete CCS programme at Barrin­ borough; rather, they are taught essay writing at the end of the first year and studio tutors informally disperse CCS throughout the two-year programme in the form of what looks like students engaging in ‘artists research’.The majority of students progress to the in-house Foundation course in art and design, in which an external specialist tutor delivers a discrete art history lecture programme. The EDAD is perceived to be at a lower level than the Foundation course and students are encouraged to stay within the institution to complete three years of study. CCS at Barrinborough develops throughout the EDAD course from dispersed and diluted to discrete and more tightly classified on the Foundation course.

Staff perceptions The integrated CCS provision on the EDAD course at Barrinborough is described as a means to meet the needs of the particular student demographic: ‘It’s a classic middle-class tool, to be able to discuss art and design’ (Studio tutor). The tutors at Barrinborough discussed the lack of privilege among their student body; students’ apparently limited ‘cultural capital’ (Bourdieu, 1977) results in staff refraining from devising a rigorous CCS programme at this level. An EDAD tutor at Barrinborough described the Edexcel syllabus as ‘Bonkers. Babble. Bits of it are OK but it’s just such a big body of writing’; the excess of words creates an ambiguity, a ‘language game that we don’t understand’ (Studio tutor). It appears to staff at Barrinborough that ‘BTEC have attempted to create standardisation by nailing down the criteria’ (Studio tutor). The criteria are perceived as both ‘nailed down’ and ‘confusing’ by staff (Studio tutor); one of the main issues raised by staff was that of writing. One member of staff describes CCS as ‘strong in individual projects’: that is, within studio practice and sketchbooks. However, he describes the essay as quite different and less successful: I don’t know what happens, they panic, they don’t understand why [they have to do it]. (Studio tutor)

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There is a staff perception that there should be more ‘history of art’ in the first year, to provide students with context for their practice in terms of art movements ‘prior to engaging in more of the thinking skills’ (Studio tutor). This suggests a ‘solid grounding’ in a body of knowledge (discussed in Chapter 3 with reference to Jacobs, 1989). One view is that it would be useful to have a ‘specialist’ to deliver the unit 5 part of the programme, who could: do things that we can’t do – they could show them [students] systems and patterns of writing that we can’t do. (Studio tutor) It appears here that Bernstein’s integrated code (1971) is adopted at Barrinborough with both weak classification and weak framing. However, this is more by default than design. There is a desire to provide an integrated curriculum, yet staff feel ill equipped to deliver CCS effectively; they locate it as part of a discrete subject culture (see Chapter 7 for further discussion on subject cultures): The closest we’ve had to a specialist contextual studies tutor is someone from the English department, but BTEC suffers with that, because they [the English tutor] aren’t actually part of the team, so that way it isn’t integrated. (Studio tutor) One of the dominant issues discussed by staff regarding their current model of delivery is that of assessment. The dispersal of CCS (unit 5 on the EDAD) in the studio across the whole course creates issues with assessment. Bernstein (1971) identifies integrated codes as problematic in this regard. The 3D tutor, Harry, stated: ‘In terms of trying to track them [the criteria] through it [the course], it’s a right mess.’ Harry described this as a problem with the syllabus and its ‘weird design so that different units come together that don’t really [fit together] . . . ’ (Studio tutor). While the confusion appears within the syllabus, it also seems that the integrated approach makes for a more confusing and ‘hard to track’ curriculum. Barrinborough staff were unanimous in the view that the current model of CCS needs attention.

Student perceptions From the student perspective, CCS is ‘the essay’: We do get some taught stuff that isn’t practical – we get taught writing. We get taught writing and then we have to write an essay. We also have to do essay research – but that isn’t a lesson, we just do that. (First-year student) Without a discrete aspect of the course labelled ‘CCS’ (or similar), the students at Barrinborough understand the essay in terms of its form. In other words, they talk more about the structure and form of the essay than the ideas therein.

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There is evidence of CCS in the studio as an integrated part of each project brief; however, there is minimal input from staff on this and students appear to engage with it in different ways. One student says: You have to research artists but it’s up to you, it depends what you are working on. (First-year student) The integrated code at Barrinborough opens up the possibility for student independence in developing a critical practice. However, without the equipment or tools to know how to go about integration or using theory and research, the results are varied: Some people don’t really do much of that artists research, but then they don’t get the grades. So you do have to do that, whether it’s before or after you’ve done the actual work. You do it in your sketchbook. (First-year student) It seems that, despite the integrated code at Barrinborough, students separate ‘research’ from practice (see Chapter 2).

Barrinborough: disintegration? The EDAD staff at Barrinborough describe limited time, finances and staff specialisms, implying that they do not have the means to resource a more substantial CCS programme. The integrated code is perceived as a default measure resulting from these gaps. While classification and framing of CCS in the studio are weak, the formal essay becomes a tightly bound vehicle for presenting CCS knowledge. The essay format is common to all case study sites, but the difference at Barrinborough is that essay preparation is the formal CCS provision; the only structured CCS programme takes place over a three-week period in the summer term when studio teaching has finished,‘so that it doesn’t interfere with the rest of the course’ (Course manager). Where CCS is discrete at Barrinborough, it represents an attempt to let assessment command the curriculum. While this is an unusual case with regard to CCS, it reflects the more widespread educational practice of ‘assessment as learning’ (Torrance et al., 2005). The tension at Barrinborough (for staff as well as for students) is that this assessment is based on a language form that is perceived as foreign to studio practice. However, it is not only academic writing that is highlighted as a point of tension, but also other forms of writing within the course. This makes an interesting comparison with Rensworth, in that both Rensworth and Barrinborough are colleges in the south-east of England with students competing for places in the same arts universities. While the response of Rensworth – itself a university of the arts – is to ensure a rigorous CCS provision that matches that

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of their Foundation course so that students are prepared to compete for a place in HE (either internally or elsewhere), the response of Barrinborough – a sixth-form college – is to use the EDAD as a stepping stone to the Foundation course in order to retain students internally for a third year after the two-year EDAD.

The five case studies: Hillburton Hillburton is an FE college in the south-west of England.The art and design department consists of four enclosed studio spaces within a building that houses all the other departments at the college. Two groups of twenty are enrolled on the EDAD course. Progression routes are varied: from further FE qualifications to HE study to employment. As well as the EDAD, Hillburton offers GCSE, BTEC First Diploma, Foundation and Foundation Degree courses in art and design and a BTEC ED in photography. It is useful to note that the entry requirement for the EDAD at Hillburton is five GCSEs, which parallels the A-level programmes. Out of the sixty colleges that returned questionnaires in this study, only two stipulated five GCSE passes for entry to the BTEC EDAD course, the majority requiring four. Despite this parity with the A-level entry route at Hillburton, A-level art and design is taught within the A-level department and has separate resources, spaces and staffing.

The organisation of CCS CCS is referred to as ‘art history’ at this institution. A CCS lecture was observed on the Impressionist period, which was typical of the lectures across the two-year course: it was taught as a ‘lecture’ with a slide-show presentation and students made notes throughout but did not contribute to discussion. The lecture provided an account of the Impressionist period not dissimilar to that in Gombrich’s Story of Art (1950). Each slide displayed several paintings with details of the artists; several key themes were covered. Towards the end of the lecture, one of the ‘themes’ introduced was ‘women artists’; this was covered in one slide and dealt only with Berthe Morisot. When a student asked why there are not many women artists, the CCS tutor responded: ‘Art history books are written by men.’ This limited social critique gives the lectures a ‘textbook’ identity; one of tight classification, in Bernstein’s terms. It also implies that the lectures are drawn from those very art history books – as though there is one body of knowledge to be imparted. In addition to the lecture, students were set some visual analysis tasks, including one relating to an image of Titian’s Venus of Urbino and Manet’s Olympia, with a list of vocabulary to use for a visual analysis of these paintings. The CCS lessons in years one and two of the course are structured so that one week is a tutor-led lecture and the following week is based on independent research whereby students respond to the previous week’s lecture in their ‘art history journal’. The discrete chronological overview of ‘key movements’ in the twentieth century is provided alongside a more integrated CCS in the studio, which all staff deliver informally.

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Staff perceptions The combination of CCS in the lecture theatre and CCS in the studio as formal assessed aspects of CCS creates issues with assessment. The CCS tutor explains: In terms of assessment, it gets complicated. You’ve got an art history notebook which is usually an A3 sketchbook full of work, but you’ve also got, in every single project they’ve done from graphics to photography to painting, you’ve also got contextual research happening there as well. So, it’s quite difficult to map. (CCS tutor) There is a goal of integration at Hillburton (as across the other sites); the CCS tutor proposes that CCS should be: embed[ded] more into practical teaching. If it weren’t for this syllabus, that’s what we’d all want to do because that’s how it makes sense . . . I don’t see why you couldn’t have a student doing just as much [theory] as that, but very different to someone else, based on their own interests and specialisms. (CCS tutor) The apparent support for Bernstein’s integrated code in this ideal model of CCS in the studio appears to have a dispositional element (see Goodson, 1995 [1988]). The CCS tutor is from a fine art background; she describes her own experience of CCS: I went to do a Foundation course after I got married . . . we didn’t have any [CCS]. It was one enormous kind of room, like a hall, with over a hundred students in, and only one tutor – quite extraordinary. I mean, we’re talking about the 1970s, 1974, something like that. When I went to university for my degree course [in fine art] we had lectures and the guys who did the art history lectures weren’t artists; they were art historians who were very dry and dusty and, you know, sort of tweed jackets, leather patches, academics. And we just rebelled. We’d do awful things, like we’d have a set time when we’d all walk out of the lecture at the same time because we hated it so much. The only useful art history, I felt, was when it was delivered in the form of a seminar, much less formal. (CCS tutor) The CCS tutor is replicating the type of tightly classified and framed art history provision that she criticises in her own experience as an art student, adhering to codes of the ‘art history academic’ despite her background as an artist. Her experience of art history and art practice as discrete communities of practice (Lave and Wenger, 1991) appears to shape some of her own delivery of art history as a

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chronology of European painting, sculpture and architecture. This demonstrates some commonality between staff experience of their own art education and the model of CCS taught. It appears that a significant factor in combining an integrated CCS in the studio with additional CCS in the lecture theatre is preparation for university: [You’ve got to prepare students in] understanding concepts and ideas, you know, the history of art; they [universities] expect people to be able to reference one thing to another and you have to prepare students for that, don’t you. . . . Most universities wouldn’t touch them if they didn’t have any ability to understand ideas and deconstruct. (CCS tutor) In keeping with Lave and Wenger’s situated learning theory (1991), the students are expected to acquire the language of art and design in order to become participants in its community of practice. This is echoed in Sawyer’s (2006) discussion of the art school as an institution, which teaches students to talk and think like an artist and to participate in the art world rather than to make art. The privileging of ‘form’ over content (of the subject) in this case is addressed in detail in Chapter 6.

Student perceptions Among the first-year students, the discrete CCS provision that is the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the lecture theatre is a popular aspect of the course: I like it. I know it is a whole hour of looking at a PowerPoint, but we do discuss a bit as well. Like yesterday, we were doing the Vienna Secession, and it was interesting . . . I like it because it’s a breath of fresh air from the practical. (First-year student) Although at this stage some students do not perceive the relevance of the lecture programme to their practice, they all find it clear and cohesive. The strong classification (in Bernsteinian terms) is well received by students, who in some cases find connections with their studio work: I use my art history journal quite a bit, to get ideas for developing my [studio] work. (First-year student) The ways in which students make use of the CCS in the lecture theatre vary; however, the unanimous experience is that it is the separation of CCS from practice that renders it interesting and enjoyable.

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Hillburton: prompted integration? The ways in which students use their art history journals as reference points for studio work demonstrate that integration is occurring in a similar way as at Wrickford: ‘naturally’. Rather than being left to independently integrate CCS and studio practice (with varying results) as at Wrickford, students at Hillburton are given some guidance for integrating the discrete CCS element of the course with their studio practice. Integration is thus assisted or facilitated, rather than prescriptively designed into the course as it is at Penton. Students at Hillburton indicate that they find the discrete CCS provision useful as a point of reference that empowers them to make links with practice through some staff prompting. While staff assume that the most useful model would be one in which CCS is entirely integrated, student voices suggest that there is value in the discrete lecture programme.

Conclusion Classification and framing: the continuum from discrete to dispersed CCS The vignettes in this chapter point to models of Bernstein’s collection code and integrated code. The collection code is most evident in the delivery of CCS at Wrickford, where ‘classification’ and ‘framing’ (Bernstein, 1971) are strong. At this site, CCS is delivered in a lecture theatre format in which content is predictable, planned and contained within the CCS unit leading up to the essay assessment. In terms of pedagogy, knowledge is transmitted in the context of the lecture theatre in a controlled and linear form. Bernstein’s integrated code, in contrast, is best reflected in CCS at Barrinborough, where classification and framing both appear to be weak. Here, knowledge is exchanged and developed in dialogues between tutor and student, or between students, informally in the studio. That is not to say, however, that these are the only ways in which CCS is practised at these two institutions; at Wrickford there is evidence of CCS occurring informally in the studio and at Barrinborough there are discrete CCS sessions that cover essay writing. Rather, one can argue that staff and students tend to identify one model as dominant: that is, the form of CCS made most visible and accountable at each site. Where curriculum design has commonalities with Bernstein’s collection code, as at Wrickford, there is evidence of ‘natural integration’. The destination routes for students on these courses reveal that those at Wrickford progress predominantly to HE courses at universities, while those at Barrinborough progress to the in-house Foundation art and design course (in which there is a more discrete and tightly classified CCS provision) or to a Foundation art and design course at another institution. There is therefore an indication that students at Wrickford are prepared for HE study while their peers at Barrinborough are prepared for further FE education.

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Contrary to the notion that each site practises one model of CCS, forms of CCS in the studio and CCS in the lecture theatre are often practised simultaneously. However, just as Bernstein’s (1971) classification and framing exist to different degrees, so too do these dominant models. Classification and framing also come in varying combinations of strengths: ‘[I]t is important to realise that the strength of classification and the strength of frames can vary independently of each other’ (Bernstein, 1971: 50). Penton is a useful example of this, in that classification is weak while framing is strong. Although CCS at Penton is studio-based, dispersed throughout the curriculum and tailored to student needs, the framing of CCS is strong. Pedagogically there is tight control, in that the course manager carefully directs transmission of knowledge and delivers across the whole programme. In keeping with the idea of a continuum from discrete to dispersed CCS, there is the possibility of different levels of boundary strength in any one case of CCS; this produces different degrees of the integrated code and the collection code (Bernstein, 1971). Bernstein’s classification and framing are useful for identifying the various modes of delivery for CCS as part of the continuum from discrete to dispersed provision. As this chapter has suggested, several forms of CCS exist within any one institution; however, the form of CCS that feeds directly into the assessment is usually the one that students most recognise. These varying models fit into Bernsteinian education codes – collection or integrated – and are maintained by staff dispositions and conceptualisations of both the subject of art and design and CCS (discussed in Chapter 7). The models provide some insight into the learning culture at each site, which sets the context for the integration of CCS and is therefore useful to identify when considering an integrated CCS provision. The designed integration at Penton and the disintegration at Barrinborough, with their weak classification, appear closest to Beane’s (1997) model of total integration (introduced in Chapter 3). The majority of the cases, however, are more aligned with Jacobs’ (1989) notion of a continuum of integration; these are the courses from which the majority of students progress to a university degree. However, most students at Penton and Barrinborough progress to further qualifications within the same institution or FE courses outside the institution.

Locating the vignettes in a broader context Regardless of the mode of organisation, CCS in the art and design curriculum has two dimensions (even when they are not formally recognised as such): discrete and dispersed. This is reflected in questionnaire data from EDAD courses across the UK (see Chapter 4): just over half of respondents (thirty-two out of sixty, or 53.3 per cent) stated that CCS was taught separately from studio sessions, but the majority mentioned that less formal CCS also occurred in the studio. Although fifteen out of sixty (25 per cent) purported to deliver an integrated CCS, discrete CCS is evidenced in four of these cases; for example, the questionnaire from Barrinborough included the proviso that ‘we also teach essay writing discretely’. As such, although twelve of the sixty questionnaires (20 per cent) stated that the institution delivers a

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combination of integrated and discrete CCS, there are more examples of cases that practise this ‘combination’. Rensworth and Hillburton were two of these twelve. At both of these sites, staff recognise CCS as an integral part of art and design practice, rendering it indispensable in the studio; yet they also deliver a separate lecture programme ‘to prepare students for university’ (Rensworth) and ‘to cover what is described in the syllabus’ (Hillburton). Of all the case sites, Wrickford appears to be the closest to the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the lecture theatre, with CCS delivered and assessed discretely by an art historian. The discrete CCS design at Wrickford serves to ‘relieve studio staff of the burden of CCS’ (Course manager). Of the sixty questionnaire returns, thirteen (22 per cent) appear closest to this most extreme form of discrete CCS. In these cases, CCS is discrete and isolated in terms of curriculum, pedagogy, teaching staff and assessment. Barrinborough, in contrast, is the college that appears closest to the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the studio, in that CCS is dispersed throughout the course and delivered informally by all members of staff. Of the sixty institutions that returned questionnaires, eleven appeared to be similar in structure to Barrinborough in that they claimed that CCS was integrated with no timetabled hours or distinct identity within the course. It appears, therefore, that this 18 per cent of cases are closest to the most extreme form of dispersed CCS – the ‘ideal type’ of CCS in the studio, without any formal, structured CCS programme. To conclude, CCS appears both formally and informally at each institution, and in both the lecture theatre and the studio setting, to different degrees.The vignettes illustrated here highlight some idiosyncrasies in each case, but some points for comparison have also emerged; these are presented in the following two chapters. Chapter 6 proposes three types of ‘theory’ that emerge as CCS through the case studies and examines the driving forces behind CCS design in terms of form and content. Subsequently, Chapter 7 discusses subject and staff identities and highlights how staff dispositions contribute to the shape of local power dynamics and regulate the boundary strength of classification and frame. These points of comparison are significant; by examining how CCS is constructed, its possibilities for integration with studio practice are made clearer.

Note 1 All names have been replaced with pseudonyms.

References Beane, J. A. (1997) Curriculum Integration: Designing the Core of Democratic Education. New York: Teachers College Press. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69.

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Bourdieu, P. (1977) ‘Cultural reproduction and social reproduction’, in Karabel, J. and Haley, A. H. (eds), Power and Ideology in Education. New York: Oxford University Press, pp. 487–511. Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. C. (1994) ‘Language and relationship to language in the teaching situation’, in Bourdieu, P., Passeron, J. C. and Saint Martin, M., Academic Discourse: Linguistic Misunderstanding and Professorial Power. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Ecclestone, K. and Hayes, D. (2008) The Dangerous Rise of Therapeutic Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Gombrich, E. H. (1950) The Story of Art. New York: Phaidon. Goodson, I. (1993) School Subjects and Curriculum Change. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Hodkinson, P., Biesta, G. J. J. and James, D. (2007) ‘Understanding learning cultures’, Educational Review, 59(4): 415–27. Jacobs, H. H. (1989) Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. James, D. and Biesta, G. (2007) Improving Learning Cultures in Further Education. Abingdon: Routledge. Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pring, R. (1971) ‘Curriculum integration’, Proceedings of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain, 5(2): 170–200. Sawyer, K. (2006) Explaining Creativity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Torrance, H., Colley, H., Garratt, D., Jarvis, J., Piper, H., Ecclestone, K. and James, D. (2005) The Impact of Different Modes of Assessment on Achievement and Progress in the Learning and Skills Sector. London: Learning and Skills Research Centre.

6 TYPES OF ‘THEORY’ AND POINTS OF TENSION Issues of form and content

Introduction This chapter makes reference to the five case study art and design courses detailed in Chapter 5 and presents three dominant constructions of theory identified as Critical and Contextual Studies (CCS) across these sites. The chapter then addresses what underpins models of CCS, demonstrating that one approach to identifying the underlying drivers of these models and for ascertaining the possibilities for their integration is to assess whether CCS provision is being driven by its form and/or its content. Chapter 5 highlighted that CCS sometimes appears to be displaced, distinct or diluted within the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) course, using a Bernsteinian analytical framework to shape discussions on CCS identity, design and delivery at each site. This chapter offers a broader framework of comparison with which to consider tensions and compatibilities between CCS and the rest of the course. In doing so, it provides some insight into the links between the structure of CCS across the five sites, the education system and broader conceptualisations of art and design. As such, while the previous chapter offered vignettes of CCS within each case study site, this chapter draws upon points of comparison between sites. As with other chapters in this book, the EDAD case studies provide data that illustrate and provoke debate and discussion on the integration of CCS within post-compulsory art education; the arguments presented here resonate across FE and HE and readers are invited to see the case study examples as indicative of the possibilities for, and tensions within, other post-compulsory art and design courses. This chapter presents form and content as a framework through which to explore what underpins models and practices of CCS. This framework enables the use of concepts similar to those in circulation within the field of art and design, thereby locating this discussion within broader notions of form and content in art

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and design practice. This analytical frame emerged from interviews with staff and students across the five case study sites, in which there seemed to be a privileging of either the form or the content of CCS in its design at each institution (although these terms appear to be inseparable). The term ‘form’ is used to mean the ‘framing’ (Bernstein, 1971) and context of delivery; this includes discussion on the lecture theatre and the essay assessment, for example. Content, on the other hand, is used predominantly to mean ‘classification’ (Bernstein, 1971) and the extent to which CCS content is insulated within the course; content is presented as three types of theory that are introduced in the section that follows.

Three types of ‘theory’ Constructions of CCS at each of the five case study sites point towards three dominant models of ‘theory’ that may be found in various strengths across all art and design courses at post-compulsory level. I classify these types as theory for realisation, contextualising the field of practice and broader critical thinking. These categories occur in various combinations and to varying degrees at each institution and represent the ways in which CCS is classified in the course according to staff and students.Within each art and design course (i.e. within each site), one of these categories tends to dominate, representing the main institutional aim and practice of formal CCS.

Theory for realisation When CCS is an immediate theory for practice, I label it theory for realisation. It is common across all five sites (and in all art and design courses), although it is usually embedded within studio work rather than identified as a form of ‘CCS’. Theory for realisation as it manifests in the EDAD case studies involves looking at artists’ work to understand techniques, materials and processes that directly inform studio practice. Unlike the other case sites, at Penton this form of theory represents the dominant CCS provision on the EDAD. In a painting exercise observed at Penton, for example, some students were researching aerial perspective and looking at Renaissance painting as part of the process of producing paintings; in another session, students were painting while simultaneously researching colour theory and Impressionism. In the case of Penton, tutors direct theory for realisation in that the tutor sets the task; this represents a controlled and designed example of integration.

Contextualising the field of practice Contextualising the field of practice relates directly to the area of practice that the student is studying (such as painting); however, it has less practical immediacy than theory for realisation. Contextualising the field of practice includes histories of art and design and research into artists and ideas that may not ‘play out’ immediately in practice. It is evident in the form of lectures as well as independent reading, studio conversations and research into artists and designers. This model is dominant at

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Wrickford and Hillburton. At Wrickford, where CCS is organised into a discrete art history lecture programme, one student describes this aspect of the course as: like background to what you’re doing now, the reasons behind it, the people who have done it before, the people who are good at it and their ideas. (First-year student, Wrickford) While contextualising the field of practice occurs as CCS in the lecture theatre at Wrickford, at Hillburton it occurs in both the lecture theatre and the studio, as the course manager at Hillburton suggests: Every practical project, any project we do, there would always be a contextual link. Although Deri does the discrete delivery [the timeline lecture programme] to underpin, CCS is very much embedded in their practical project work as well, so studio staff bring in contextual references and a bit of art history in there. (Course manager, Hillburton)

Broader critical thinking I use the team broader critical thinking to mark ‘theory’ as a wider subject that is not manifested directly in the studio.This model draws from philosophy, cultural studies and sociology to form a provision that is akin to Visual Culture. Broader critical thinking is based on theories, concepts and ideas in relation to visual and material culture. This is the dominant form of CCS at Rensworth for second-year EDAD students and it is evident at Wrickford alongside contextualising the field of practice lectures. One student at Rensworth described one of the second-year lectures as more akin to ‘Visual Culture’ than art history: CCS lectures are sometimes a bit strange, like they start talking about taste and it’s about concepts and you are not sure why this is relevant, but then it blows your mind and gets you thinking. (Second-year student, Rensworth) At Wrickford, broader critical thinking comes in the form of a visual communication programme during the first year, which one student describes as complex and abstract compared with the more tangible and coherent CCS ‘art history’ lectures: It [visual communication] came in no use at all really. It kind of made you more confused, because I don’t think we were at that stage of thinking about that yet. It was too complicated. (Second-year student, Wrickford) It is indicated here that students are more able to engage with broader critical thinking as they mature in their art education. In course design, then, broader critical thinking may be best positioned after a programme of contextualising the field of practice.

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Comparing current practices of the three types of theory Across the five case study sites, the most common form of CCS is contextualising the field of practice. While there are attempts to deliver broader critical thinking, it is generally considered that students are not ready for this at this early stage of postcompulsory education. Rather, it is predominantly subject histories and reference to ‘tradition’ that constitute CCS at this level (see the discussion in Chapter 1 on De Duve’s Academic Model for more context to ‘tradition’ in art education). Broader critical thinking includes histories, theories and ideas of wider visual and material culture, beyond and around the specific discipline or medium in which the student is working in the studio; it most commonly occurs as a discrete CCS in the lecture theatre. At this level it appears to be delivered less frequently than contextualising the field of practice, in which students are expected to contextualise their work in history: I guess the point [of CCS] is to give a theoretical framework, or [for the students to understand that] they are making stuff in tradition, they’re not just painting pretty pictures. They have the visual communication lessons for broader concepts but they don’t get that; but I include some Visual Culture in my lectures anyway – increasingly more, anyway – because that’s a bit more up to date. (CCS tutor, Wrickford) There is a common assumption among staff members that this is ‘what CCS is’; the historical legacy of CCS is its connection with art history, in line with the Coldstream reforms (see Chapter 1 for detail on this historical context). This sets up an ‘antecedent subject subculture’ (Goodson, 1991; Goodson and Mangan, 1995) for CCS that is distinct to art and design. Antecedent subject cultures are described in Chapter 7, but it will suffice here to note that CCS design combines the inheritance of its antecedent subject subculture with a more contemporary interest in Visual Culture. The situation at Penton is particularly interesting in that the CCS team and the EDAD staff have different perspectives on what CCS is.The CCS team treats CCS as an academic and independent discipline that manifests in discretely delivered forms of contextualising the field of practice and broader critical thinking. In contrast, the EDAD staff perceive CCS as being predominantly theory for realisation and a studio-based contextualising the field of practice and therefore embedded within practice. While the EDAD team sees CCS as indefinable, the CCS staff give a definition of the aims for CCS: CCS for practice-based students is to get them to understand how everything they do is necessarily related to the history of their practice and that great art and design grows out of tradition . . . but also that their work will always be seen within the wider social cultural context. So the purpose is to form artists and designers who are engaged in their surroundings, engaged in their practice, and interested in the broader context. (CCS staff member, Penton)

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The CCS team at Penton values the form of the lecture theatre and the experience that this brings to the students. The team also supports rigorous and broad (rather than subject-specific) CCS content in order to expand the range of influences upon the student. The CCS team at Penton echoes Risatti’s (1989) recommendations for art students to move beyond the studio and into other humanities subjects – or what I have termed here broader critical thinking – ‘as a way of complementing and undergirding current emphasis in studio practice . . . such a curriculum would more closely reflect artistic practice’ (Risatti, 1989: 25). The EDAD team, in contrast, perceives anything other than studiobased CCS (predominantly in the form of theory for realisation) as a potential cause of academic drift away from the ‘nature of the subject of art and design’ (Studio tutor, Penton). While the intentions of the EDAD staff team are good, it may be that students are missing out on opportunities to integrate aspects of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ more independently (this is discussed further in Chapter 8). At EDAD level, students demonstrate their ability to draw together the three forms of theory that I have proposed in this chapter. In the group interview with second-year students at Rensworth, one of the students talked about photography as the pathway that he intended to pursue at university. During the interview, the student recounted learning about, and then experimenting with, the process of solarisation (theory for realisation). He described a lecture on the relationship between early photography and painting (contextualising the field of practice) and said that he had been interested in concepts of temporality and permanence in an exhibition that he had attended recently (broader critical thinking). At best, students make use of all three of these forms of theory. It may therefore be useful for course deliverers to identify how these models hold up in relation to their own course design and students’ understanding of ‘theory’. In higher education (HE), where art and design departments or faculties tend to be much larger and more broadly resourced than those in further education (FE), one way in which these three models might be translated at some sites is by attaching them to different departments or staff members. Theory for realisation is akin to the applied theory that technical staff manage, often in a specific fabrication area. Contextualising the field of practice occurs in the studio with academic (studio) staff as well as in the students’ independent research. This model may also occur in a discrete lecture theatre environment with academic (studio and/or ‘theory’) staff. Broader critical thinking resembles a Visual Culture provision, typically delivered in a lecture theatre environment by academic (usually, although not exclusively, ‘theory’) staff. In large institutions there may be limited connections between the staff involved in these three areas, yet each represents a form of ‘theory’. Contextualising the field of practice and broader critical thinking, then, appear to be most closely related to the forms of ‘theory’ that many HE institutions term ‘CCS’

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(among other labels). When these types of CCS present as CCS in the lecture theatre, it is the form of delivery that EDAD staff indicate is ‘important’ for students to experience: We’re their transition, aren’t we? We’re their bridge to university so they’ve got to experience that [‘being in a lecture environment and being able to take notes’], although they grumble and get a bit fidgety after an hour. But it’s important to experience that and I think CCS is perfect for delivering that. (Course manager, Rensworth) Most students enter the EDAD course directly from compulsory education. While the lecture theatre comes with its own cultural codes (see Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994), it is referred to as a useful form by staff for its scholastic order that complements the ‘less familiar studio experience’ (Course manager, Wrickford) and its role in preparing students for HE. A CCS staff member at Penton suggested: It’s [CCS is] essential: (a) to the development of students as artists, or the development of artists as artists at any level, and any artist, whether they’re studying or have a studio or whatever; and (b) as preparation for study at HE. While the first point here describes a CCS that is an inherent and tacit part of art and design content, the latter point suggests the importance of the academic form of essays and lectures. There is an indication here that CCS can be addressed in terms of either its form (for example, the lecture theatre as preparation for HE) or its content (that is, theory for realisation, contextualising the field of practice or broader critical thinking).

A tension point: the issue of status in ‘CCS in the lecture theatre’ and ‘CCS in the studio’ Chapter 5 drew upon Bernstein (1971) as a framework through which to identify CCS at each case study site. Two ‘ideal types’ were introduced: CCS in the lecture theatre and CCS in the studio. These ‘ideal types’ represent dominant sites for locating the three types of theory introduced in this chapter. This section will refer back to the analytical framework applied in the previous chapter in order to draw correlations between the three models of theory and status. In each case site, both staff and students attribute high status to discrete models of theory; that is, the models that adhere to Bernstein’s (1971) collection code, such as broader critical thinking. This is interesting in terms of the relationship that Goodson (1993) posits between single, tightly bound academic subjects and status. Students appear to attach status to perceptions of intelligence. For example, in the following extract a student refers to the discrete contextualising the field of practice art history lectures:

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You’ll get people that come and think art is easy, cos it’s just drawing and painting and stuff. They’ll come from school and be like ‘Yeah, I’ll do this cos I’m crap at English’ or something. So they don’t realise there’s this other bit. I think it looks good to be doing the art history alongside [the studio work]. (First-year student, Wrickford) It is the form of CCS – particularly the form of assessment,1 but also the research skills – that bestows status upon CCS. A second-year student states: I like it [the essay] at the end when I look at it and think, ‘I’m not that unintelligent.’ When I do too much art I . . . I don’t know, I feel kind of stupid. It sounds bad to say. (Second-year student, Wrickford) The implication here is that the formal academic writing and essay assessment that CCS in the lecture theatre requires are greater proof of intelligence than the visual language and material techniques of studio practice. There is also the suggestion that CCS in the lecture theatre is somehow ‘educational’ and provides ‘thinking’ and ‘intellectualising’; this can be identified in terms of wider academic/vocational divides and knowledge hierarchies. These ideas relate to the discussions in Chapters 2 and 3; for example, Sennett (2008) discusses the historical development of the hand/head divide in craft practice, illustrating the normalised difference in status attributed to the head (the academic) over the hand (the practical and vocational).

Introducing form and content as an analytical frame Discussion on the relationships between ‘form’ and ‘content’ are familiar in the field of art and design practice and discourse. Debate over these terms was particularly prolific during the Modernist period, from the ‘form follows function’ ethos of the Bauhaus, through Clement Greenberg’s (1939, 1982 [1960]) privileging of form through Formalism, to Susan Sontag’s (1966) abandonment of the form/content distinction. In these examples, form shifts from being subservient to content and function, to overriding content and context, and finally to being inseparable from content.These perspectives on form and content represent approaches to interpreting, positioning and experiencing art and design objects and images; intriguingly, the data gathered in this study show that such perspectives are also significant in educational practice. The form/content debate is particularly interesting in relation to the status and identity of the subject and the art object. According to Greenbergian Modernism, each discipline can be identified and distinguished by its inherent qualities. These qualities are material and structural, and they position form over content, subject matter or narrative, whereby ‘content is to be dissolved so completely into form that the work of art or literature cannot be reduced in whole or in part to anything not itself’ (Greenberg, 1939: 35). It follows that each discipline achieves autonomy, and thus distinction, according to the specificity of its medium. Art and design

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courses in which art practice is classified by medium and where De Duve’s Bauhaus Model (see Chapter 1) is pertinent show residual traces of this Modernist approach. There are indications of this at Wrickford, where the course is modular and organised by staff specialism; in this case, by medium. More broadly, this inward-looking subject specificity is being dismantled. Given that the postgraduate education system legitimises practice-based research in art and design, and that degree programmes in art and design are beginning to integrate studio and ‘theory’ modules, it appears that art and design education is increasingly supporting a more broad-based and integrated approach to practice. This is not to say that aspects of an art and design course are not taught discretely, but rather that each of these aspects (say, modules) are relevant – at best – beyond themselves. This apparently fluid approach to curriculum design is often in tension with the prescriptive boundaries of an assessment system. In the case study data on current practice, form and content can be understood as drivers of CCS design. Form covers structural and formal elements in CCS design and delivery, such as learning site, language and assessment structures. Content is concerned with the subject content itself. The following section examines the distinction between form and content with regard to CCS in order to identify examples of form-driven and content-driven CCS in the data. Subsequently, key factors at stake in analysing form and content are identified, and the chapter concludes with a section that addresses the overall use of ‘form versus content’ in understanding and achieving integration. A central concept throughout this discussion is that of the reconfiguration of spaces and learning cultures in order to achieve integration. Goodson (1995 [1988]) identifies a potential problem in exploring the history and social construction of a subject: the tendency to allow the mystification and reproduction of ‘traditional’ curriculum form and content. This is part of the ‘antecedent subject subculture’ that is described in the following chapter, and there is evidence of staff across sites reproducing this in their design of CCS in the curriculum. This ‘traditional’ subject identity looks like a mid-century model of CCS as it was established during the Coldstream reforms. In ‘form’, this is a lecture theatre-based discrete component of art and design that supports an elaborate language code (Bernstein, 1975). In ‘content’, it is a Eurocentric chronological account of predominantly fine art practice. At Hillburton, where this model is evident, this results in a CCS that students perceive as insulated from studio practice (the ‘collection code’ in Bernstein’s terms, as introduced in Chapter 5). The extent to which the integration of CCS is possible within this ‘traditional’ (discrete) form and content will be examined here in order to explore how integration can be defined in practice and how it is conceptualised.

Site as ‘form’: codes and conventions in studio and lecture theatre contexts The form of the studio is dominant in art and design education and is the common site for art practice.The language and transmission of knowledge in the studio

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are based on a degree of ambiguity, risk and unpredictability (Fortnum, 2008); outcomes and content are not necessarily certain, and learning and knowledge exchange can be unpredictable and spontaneous. In the studio environment across all five case study sites, learning occurs between peers as well as with tutors, and meanings are not always established until after art works have been produced (Boyce and Brighton, 1994; see Chapter 2 for further discussion of these ideas).When CCS is located in the studio it assumes these traits and characteristics; this is evidenced at Rensworth.2 In contrast, the more discrete CCS that is delivered outside the studio context – evidenced to varying degrees at Wrickford and Hillburton – is linguistically and pedagogically distinct from studio practice. With predicted and pre-planned content (Bernstein’s ‘strong classification’) and a controlled transmission of knowledge (Bernstein’s ‘strong framing’), this type of CCS is labelled here as CCS in the lecture theatre and typically accommodates top-down and directed learning. As ‘ideal types’ (discussed in Chapter 5), the studio and the lecture theatre represent disparate forms and knowledge cultures. While students tend to be guided through an organised route of knowledge in the lecture theatre, the notion of not knowing is typically conducive to the studio. Unlike the usually linear transmission of a specific body of knowledge in the lecture theatre (see Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994), the studio privileges processes over product (Barrett and Bolt, 2010 [2007]), and the meaning of the work unfolds even after the work is made (Boyce and Brighton, 1994). In contrast to the evolving and unfixed nature of studio-based knowledge, knowledge associated with lecture theatre content is more typically perceived as being contained within that environment and concentrated – as well as ending – in the essay assessment. The form of the lecture theatre and the form of the studio determine to some extent the practices that occur within them. For example, the risk taking and experimentation of the studio is not mirrored in the lecture theatre codes of practice. First-year students at Wrickford describe feeling most like ‘artists’ in ‘the messy studio, where you can be more expressive, paint, use inks, whatever’. In contrast, most feel like students in classroom and lecture theatre environments: ‘I definitely feel more like a student in here [the CCS teaching room] . . . art history is more the learning bit.’ This ‘learning’ in the form of CCS in the lecture theatre is safe and predictable; the tutor takes the lead, in contrast to the more rhizomatic and independent learning and experimentation that take place in the studio. The predictable order of the lecture theatre is less ambiguous than the studio-based aspects of the course, which students at Wrickford describe as ‘confusing’ and in which ‘we never know what we are doing’. Despite Bourdieu and Passeron’s (1994) notion of the normalised language barrier between orator and student body and the ‘elaborate language code’ of the lecture theatre, the structure of the lecture theatre offers students some clarity or predictability.

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When form drives the design of CCS ‘Form’ relates to Bernstein’s ‘framing’ concept, which is concerned with the ‘degree of control teacher and pupil possess over the selection, organisation and pacing of the knowledge transmitted and received in the pedagogical relationship’ (Bernstein, 1971: 50). When the pedagogic style (or means of transmitting knowledge) is moved from the lecture theatre to the studio, it takes on a different identity. This is evident at Wrickford in the transition from CCS in the lecture theatre in the first year to CCS in the studio in the second year. When the transmission of content changes, the subject itself changes; therefore, the learning site is a key consideration. At Wrickford, the CCS provision is integrated with key skills. Consequently, CCS becomes subsumed into essay writing and presenting, and this becomes more important than CCS subject content: The students have to cope with the key skills side of it, which is the essay writing and the presentation, so they associate those things – which some of them don’t like doing – with this art history exposure. I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing; in fact it isn’t. In fact, I’ve had students leave the course because they don’t like doing those things. (Course manager, Wrickford) It is the assessment of form rather than the subject content that is dominant and shapes the identity of CCS. While some students find this distinct form difficult to engage with, others perceive the order of the lecture theatre as less ambiguous than the independence they are expected to exhibit in the studio (as noted earlier). Reflecting on the loosely framed studio practice in the first year, the second-year students at Wrickford describe their experience as ‘quite unclear and unfocused’: [The last project last year] was just so unclear. There was a brief that didn’t make any sense. We just don’t know what we are doing from one week to the next. In contrast to the non-directive informal teaching of the studio, the formal CCS in the lecture theatre (contextualising the field of practice) is perceived by students as a less ambiguous part of the course. The directed nature of CCS delivery at Wrickford ensures that students are required to take fewer risks – risks that may be perceived as an inherent part of art education: If nothing else they’re learning in a different way to anywhere else on the course. . . . It’s good for them to have this traditional set-up. . . . They end up liking it and looking forward to it because it has got more structure. (CCS tutor, Wrickford)

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The students identified this CCS component as: the most ‘taught’ element of the course . . . the art history bit. We really learnt a lot from that. (Second-year student, Wrickford) These attitudes are conducive to Bourdieu and Passeron’s suggestion that: in many of their [students’] most deeply held attitudes they remain firmly wedded to the traditional teaching situation. For this also protects them, and it is one of the few models of scholastic behaviour open to them. (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994: 11) When asked to describe CCS, students at Wrickford focused on its transmission rather than its content. First-year students at Wrickford suggested that it is the form of delivery and assessment that marks CCS as distinct within the course: It’s separate because it is more writing and listening than doing art. (First-year student, Wrickford) In reflecting on CCS provision in the first year, a second-year student also discussed CCS in terms of its form: They’d show us a video at the start of the lesson, so you could remember the lesson from the video. And they’d have word of the week, and all this stuff. (Second-year student, Wrickford) Unlike Wrickford, at Barrinborough there is no distinct lecture theatre delivery during the course. However, unit 5 is formally delivered in a two-week period at the end of year one, and is based on essay writing and research skills rather than art historical content. Informal and dispersed CCS at Barrinborough is integrated with the culture of art and design in terms of its contents, emerging as theory for realisation and contextualising the field of practice. It seems isolated, however, in its form: CCS is strong in individual projects, in the sketchbook, but not so successful in the essay. (Studio tutor, Barrinborough) The implication here is that students engage more successfully with the form of CCS in the studio – dispersed throughout the course and integrated into individual practical project work – than with a discrete CCS, detached from studio practice. It is the essay format that differentiates this discrete CCS from a more integrated form. Although staff at Rensworth and Hillburton suggest that both discrete and dispersed CCS are useful in partnership, staff at all five sites emphasise the value

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of the embedded (rather than discrete) form of CCS. As Pring (1971) suggests (see Chapter 3), integration is an approval word deemed to have intrinsic value in education practice. Despite the unanimous support for integrated CCS, there is a sense that the language and form of CCS within art and design education are not compatible with the language and form of art and design practice. This is most pronounced in attitudes among staff and students at sites in which there is no designated CCS tutor within the EDAD course; that is, at Barrinborough and Penton. A tutor at Barrinborough stated that CCS in the studio, or integrated CCS, is: important to deliver and successful. However, with the essay I don’t know what happens; they panic. They don’t understand why [they have to do an essay]. (Studio tutor, Barrinborough) This section has demonstrated that it is the ‘form’ of CCS that marks it as insulated within art and design. The form of the lecture theatre and the essay appear to be discretely identified and therefore closed to integration. However – as will be demonstrated in Chapter 7 with regard to staff identities – the discrete form of the lecture theatre is also open to being reconfigured, which may go some way towards an integrated provision.

When content drives the design of CCS At Hillburton, a discrete ‘timeline’ CCS programme – with a discrete form and assessment – is combined with a holistic grading system that facilitates a more content-driven curriculum. The course manager at Hillburton demonstrates this: I’m doing a print project at the moment, and they’re looking at historical and contextual references for that, and it’s a requirement of the print unit, and the work they’ll generate for that print project will also be credited to unit 5. So [the CCS tutor] wouldn’t be marking that, but what we do at the end of the first year, beginning of the second year, is we do a holistic mark. (Course manager, Hillburton) The discrete timeline programme at Hillburton is designed in order to adhere to the perceived requirements of the syllabus. The implication from staff is that, if the syllabus were not so rigid, CCS would be embedded much more into practical projects: You’ve got students who are mad on graphic design. Why can’t they just do all their contextual research into design? Why do they have to do, you know, everything. . . . And for students who are really interested in drawing and painting, why can’t they just do that? (CCS tutor, Hillburton)

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As well as proposing a more student-specific contextualising the field of practice form of CCS, staff at Hillburton also indicated that they would prefer to deliver a broader critical thinking programme: The way it’s [CCS is] structured, it’s more like traditional art history, but I’d like it to be more . . . art theory and questions and concepts. You know, not as prescriptive, not as historical, more critical. (CCS tutor, Hillburton) This attitude towards the art historical approach was mirrored at Rensworth: In institutions where integration is happening the concern is that the canon isn’t being dealt with. But I think it’s a healthy approach for a graphics tutor, say, to also teach [CCS], so the students see that the practitioner is also interested in the context to their work. (CCS coordinator, Rensworth) Although it might be assumed that when the content of CCS drives its design there is more potential for its integration within studio practice, this appears not to be the case. Content-driven CCS, in the cases cited earlier, is driven by the varied staff interpretations of the Edexcel syllabus. It is impossible to discuss content, stemming from these varied interpretations, without reference to form. At Barrinborough and Penton, CCS design appears to be content-driven. Rather than this resulting in a subject-specific, discrete CCS programme – as it does at Hillburton and (to a degree) at Rensworth – CCS is dispersed and diluted at Barrinborough and Penton and takes on the form of theory for realisation. On the surface, it appears that the content-driven CCS at Barrinborough and Penton results in a holistic curriculum that could be termed ‘integrated’. In both of these cases, however, the content-driven and apparently integrated CCS design leads to the dilution and dissolving of CCS. There appear, therefore, to be two types of content-driven CCS. Subject-specific CCS content drives the first type; this is the case at Hillburton and, in part, at Rensworth. Such content-driven CCS results in a discrete CCS provision. The second type is content-driven CCS in terms of studio content; here, it is the content of studio practice that drives CCS design. This second type, evidenced at Barrinborough and Penton, results in CCS that is indistinguishable from – and that staff claim to be ‘integrated with’ – studio practice. Irrespective of which form of contentdriven CCS is practised, the form of the essay assessment is common to all sites.

When form becomes content: the form, and issue, of writing Sally Mitchell (2008) states that, in art, dance and other non-writing subjects, writing is synonymous with assessment. This is largely mirrored in the EDAD course, in which students perceive their practice as visual and studio-based, while writing is more aligned with assessments within the CCS component of the course.

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On entering the EDAD, students are uncertain about how to use writing. From paragraphs of plagiarised text to basic descriptive modes of writing in their sketchbooks, there is a broad lack of confidence with written language. In addition, despite development in students’ art practice throughout the duration of the course across all five sites, students’ writing appears to be more likely to stagnate and to show less maturity than their studio practice. One of the apparent issues here is that students assume that written communication is limited in the forms that it can take, whereas they recognise that there are multiple forms of visual communication. For example, on drawing, a second-year student at Wrickford confidently stated that: There are people who can’t draw and who can’t make pictures, but they can be really creative. They know exactly what they want to do but they can’t draw so they do it in different ways. (Second-year student, Wrickford) Drawing is described here as just one ‘form’ or ‘vehicle’ for communication within creative practice. Writing, in contrast, is perceived as the antithesis of creative practice. One student at Barrinborough said: Being an artist you are creative, but writing an essay in that structure just kills you as an artist. When you have an idea you are excited about it, but when you write an essay you are there for two hours just trying to type up something. It kills you off. (Second-year student, Barrinborough) When asked what CCS actually is, a student at Barrinborough paused and said: ‘What, you mean writing?’ (First-year student, Barrinborough). This association of CCS with writing is common; however, the use of this writing is not clear to students. More specifically, while the use of the essay is clear (in that it meets the demands of assessment), the use of notes taken in CCS lessons is less standardised. Students at Wrickford discussed writing in and for CCS in some detail. Student responses to what they do with their notes were diverse: They’re in a folder so I know where it all is, in a folder on my desk. (First-year student, Wrickford) I made a little book and wrote down all the artists that I learnt about and all the theories we did and put them in order of time, so that I can go back and look at it when I want to. (Second-year student, Wrickford) I think they’re in a big box somewhere. (Second-year student, Wrickford)

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It’s more in my head because I don’t know where all my notes are. Actually I don’t take many because I’m dyslexic and I’m quite slow at writing. I find that I don’t take it in in my head if I’m busy trying to, you know, ‘How do I spell that?’ (First-year student, Wrickford) Elsewhere in the course (beyond CCS), students also demonstrate a lack of clarity regarding how to use writing. For example, a tutor at Barrinborough gave a typical example of writing in a first-year sketchbook: This is a drawing of an apple, I used pen and ink to draw this. (Studio tutor, Barrinborough) This student is writing down what is adequately communicated pictorially. Turning to written language to repeat what is already visually clear is perhaps unsurprising, given that students have been cultured through a school system that places value and status on written languages over visual languages. This appears to be a case of writing for its own sake rather than for its meaning; the text is not used to critique or develop visual language or practice and thus is superfluous. A tutor at Barrinborough suggested that: the students are recalling their experiences at school I think, where they are writing without engaging in the content, and where they associate writing with subjects outside of art and design. At the start of the first year, students are on the peripheries of a new ‘community of practice’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991), drawing upon their previous experience of education codes and cultures before becoming fully versed in a new set. While students might draw upon the familiarity of the school experience, there are also examples of them actively trying to move away from this. This is particularly the case in an FE environment typically associated with a culture of being a ‘second chance’ at education for students who have not done well at school. Writing is key here in its associations with the school student rather than the student artist: Quite a few people were glad it [the CCS] had finished because they don’t want to write. They want to get away from school and they want to be artists, so they were glad not to have to write any more. . . . But it’s the written stuff that ruins art history. Not actual art history. (Second-year student, Wrickford) It is in reference to the form of communication and assessment, rather than the subject content, that students discuss the problems with CCS. The depersonalisation in CCS is discussed by Raein (2003). It is most striking when considered in relation to the essay assessment, and this is the case

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across all five sites. It is the form of the essay, rather than the content, that is the most difficult aspect for the students to comprehend with regard to art practice: When I’m researching, I look at other artists and ideas and theories and that is useful, but I don’t understand why we have to put that into an essay; there’s no point. (Second-year student, Rensworth) Second-year students at Rensworth describe the essay as important preparation for university, because (according to the students) the essay and the dissertation are mandatory components in HE. The relevance of the essay in the field of education is clear to the students; in the field of art and design, however, they indicate that its use and relevance are not clear. Across all five sites, students demonstrate more confidence, competence and fluency in visual language codes than in those of written languages. One student at Wrickford stated: ‘I came here to do art, not English!’, and another that they feel ‘inauthentic’ and ‘detached’ when writing. The ambivalence that students feel towards writing, and their choice of an art and design course as a rejection of the disciplines that involve writing, is discussed in Kill (2004) and Blythman and Orr (2004). Raein (2003) and, more recently, Pollen (2015) explore art and design students’ sense of inauthenticity and detachment in written work associated with CCS. These writers point to the depersonalisation of writing in contrast to studio work; from the students’ perspective, this aspect of CCS – its form – sets it in opposition to the more ‘real work’ of the studio, in which the students recognise ‘the I’ (Raein, 2003). Atkinson describes the ‘learner-as-subject’, whereby ‘practising and experiencing art . . . is a process of becoming in which art is experienced as a part of self ’ (2013: 198). In response to these types of issues, one tutor at Rensworth designed an optional creative-writing course, with the aim of challenging students to see writing as personal and to take risks with writing as they do with practice. Although not the formal academic writing of the essay, this strategy introduces students to forms of writing with which they engage more readily as practitioners, demonstrating both that writing is multifaceted as practice and that writing is a practice. The writing/ making, ‘words/stuff ’ (Cazeaux, 2006: 40) divide is part of the antecedent subject subculture of art and design that is more broadly a part of the theory/practice divide discussed in Chapter 2. The antecedent subject subculture has been constructed with a suspicion of the written and the verbal, leaving CCS in an uneasy position. This suspicion has a history among art practitioners, as evidenced, for example, in Henry Moore’s position on the theorist: [I]t is a mistake for a sculptor or a painter to speak or write very often about his work. . . . By trying to express his aims with rounded-off logical exactness, he can easily become a theorist whose actual work is only a caged-in exposition of conceptions evolved in terms of logic and words. (Moore, 1966: 62)

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Although this may read as outmoded, there are remnants of such suspicion among some staff and students, demonstrating the resilience of the antecedent subject subculture discussed in Chapter 7.

Conclusion: the importance of the relationship between form and content This chapter has identified three dominant forms of ‘theory’ that constitute CCS across the five case study sites. While it is useful to identify these in order to consider constructions of CCS, it is through a discussion of form and content that a great deal of the variety in CCS can be identified and an understanding of integration can be developed and achieved at each site. Most often in the data here, it is either form or content that leads CCS design. The dominant form of CCS is that of the lecture theatre and formal academic writing (the essay). In these forms (and to use Bernstein’s [1971] terms), framing is strong, in that the transmission of knowledge is tightly controlled. This is in contrast to the form of the studio and the dialogic transmissions therein. In CCS, the essay format mimics the academic discourse that the lecture theatre supports, whereby: [t]here is a world of difference between the traditional approach to definition which is purely formal and ritualistic – and is reproduced and caricatured in student essays – and an interactive approach which accepts the ongoing possibility of interruption, interrogation and demand for clarification. (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994: 23) However, this is not to say that the lecture theatre discourse is rigid and meticulous, in contrast to an unstructured and flexible studio discourse. On the contrary, there is certainly evidence of a rigorous studio learning culture: for example, Penton has a standard ‘studio protocol’ to which all students adhere. The form of the studio and the form of the lecture theatre are conventionally, linguistically and pedagogically disparate; however, this does not mean that there is no scope for their cohabitation – or even integration – as evidenced in Chapter 7 with regard to the use of the lecture theatre at Rensworth. As this chapter implies, there is a lack of congruence between the language of the studio and that of the lecture theatre. What emerges from the data (as discussed in Chapter 5) is the notion of form over content, where the learning (and imitating) of language structures takes precedence over the learning of concepts and subject matter within a course (Lillis, 1997; Lave and Wenger, 1991; Sawyer, 2006). It is useful to note here that, where the starting point for integration is the curriculum, the language that tutors use within this curriculum is key. The role of staff is also crucial; this is examined in some detail in the following chapter.

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Notes 1 That is, essay and presentation. 2 It should be noted that tutors at Rensworth describe CCS as occurring both in a studio context and in the lecture theatre environment.

References Atkinson, D. (2013) ‘Learning, truth and self-encounter’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L. (eds), Debates in Art and Design Education. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 198–213. Barrett, E. and Bolt, B. (eds) (2010 [2007]) Practice as Research: Approaches to Creative Arts Enquiry. London and New York: I. B. Tauris. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Bernstein, B. (1975) Class, Codes and Control: Towards a Theory of Educational Transmissions, 2nd edition. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Blythman, M. and Orr, M. (2004) The Process of Design Is Almost Like Writing an Essay: Writing Purposefully in Art & Design. Higher Education Funding Council for England, Fund for the Development of Teaching and Learning, Phase 4 Project. Available at: http://writing-pad.org (accessed September 2015). Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. C. (1994) ‘Language and relationship to language in the teaching situation’, in Bourdieu, P., Passeron, J. C. and Saint Martin, M., Academic Discourse: Linguistic Misunderstanding and Professorial Power. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Boyce, S. and Brighton, A. (1994) ‘Art education and the scrutineers’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications, pp. 34–8. Cazeaux, C. (2006) ‘Interrupting the artist: theory, practice and topology in Sartre’s aesthetics’, in MacLeod, K. and Holdridge, L., Thinking Through Art: Reflections on Art as Research. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 40–50. Fortnum, R. (2008) ‘On not knowing what you are doing: the importance of the studio to practice’. Paper presented at the Association of Art Historians conference, Tate Britain, London, April. Goodson, I. (1993) School Subjects and Curriculum Change. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. and Mangan, J. (1995) ‘Subject cultures and the introduction of classroom computers’, British Educational Research Journal, 21(5): 613–28. Greenberg, C. (1939) ‘Avant-garde and kitsch’, Partisan Review 6 (Fall): 34–49. Greenberg, C. (1982 [1960]) ‘Modernist painting’, in Frascina, F. and Harrison, C. (eds), Modern Art and Modernism: A Critical Anthology. Oxford: Blackwell. Kill, R. (2004) Thinking about Writing: Writing Purposefully in Art & Design. Higher Education Funding Council for England, Fund for the Development of Teaching and Learning, Phase 4 Project. Available at: http://writing-pad.org (accessed July 2015). Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lillis, T. (1997) ‘New voices in academia? The regulative nature of academic writing conventions’, Language and Education, 11(3): 182–99. Mitchell, S. (2008) ‘Speculations of language in the arts’. Paper presented at the Association of Art Historians conference, Tate Britain, London, April.

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Moore, H. (1966) ‘The sculptor speaks’, in James, P. (ed.), Henry Moore on Sculpture. London: Macdonald, p. 62. Pollen, A. (2015) ‘My position in the design world: locating subjectivity in the design curriculum’, Design and Culture, 7(1): 85–105. Pring, R. (1971) ‘Curriculum integration’, Proceedings of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain, 5(2): 170–200. Raein, M. (2003) Where is the ‘I’? London: Writing-PAD. Risatti, H. (1989). ‘A failing curricula’, New Art Examiner, 17(1): 24–6. Sawyer, K. (2006) Explaining Creativity. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sennett, R. (2008) The Craftsman. London: Penguin Books. Sontag, S. (1966) Against Interpretation and Other Essays. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

7 SUBJECT AND STAFF IDENTITIES AND CULTURES

Introduction This chapter demonstrates the ways in which subject identities are controlled and rehearsed within a curriculum, and in so doing indicates their potential for change and integration. With reference to current practice throughout (in the form of case study data, introduced in Chapters 4 and 5), this chapter explores how staff and subject identities can shape the possibilities for integrative practice. Young (1971) suggests that it is the socialisation of teaching staff that constitutes the major agency of control in the curriculum, and highlights, along with Goodson and Mangan (1995), that disciplines are defined within the university. With the university as the pinnacle of the subject,Young notes that the shape of school subjects are controlled through staff ’s shared assumptions over ‘what we all know the universities want’ (Young, 1971: 31).The discipline of art and design is in a different position; rather than originating in the university, it has moved in. CCS, in its guise as a discrete lecture theatre-based and essay-assessed component, is the aspect of an art and design course that has most in common with the disciplines that grew out of the university.This makes the identity of CCS at post-compulsory level particularly interesting, as well as a site of potential tension. Subject subcultures represent the socialisation of staff and students in subject settings, as discussed in Goodson and Marsh (1996), Ball and Lacey (1984) and Ball (1981). Underpinning subcultures are ‘antecedent subject subcultures’ (Goodson and Mangan, 1995), whereby subject identities are tied up with their historical legacies, creating internal subject friction. CCS appears to emerge from an antecedent subject subculture that is both part of and disconnected from art and design; this inevitably influences art and design courses, creating clashes and tensions. This chapter discusses subject and staff cultures and identities in relation to – and to demonstrate – these phenomena, and explores possibilities for integration within such courses.

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Tacit knowledge exchange and generation is an embedded part of art and design education (as introduced in Chapter 2). Such knowledge is not codified and therefore not accountable or (easily) assessable. Attempts to articulate some of these practices and knowledges (where they exist) are often conducted under the guise of ‘assessment’, and can serve to merely replicate what is already adequately communicated tacitly or elsewhere. For example, in relation to compulsory education, Stibbs (1998) describes practices that are embedded in studio practice and yet are classified as discrete in order to fulfil National Curriculum requirements. Stibbs (1998) gives the examples of requirements for pupils to demonstrate their ability to fulfil criteria such as ‘describe’ and ‘compare’; these activities become clunky translations of what is already being more intricately articulated in art and design processes and practices. In the case study data, a CCS tutor at Hillburton exemplified this by suggesting that tacit knowledge and practices are fulfilled perceptively and intuitively throughout the course but are not necessarily labelled as ‘CCS’ (or unit 5): The pass criteria in the syllabus state things like ‘extract and analyse complex information’. Plenty of them will do that independently, anyway. Most of them will do that. But it is not always in the way that is clearly or easily visible for assessment. When framed in this way, the problem appears to be with the assessment system and its incompatibility with subjects outside the particular set of language systems that it privileges. Chapter 2 suggested, however, that there are good reasons to attempt such articulation – not for the purposes of assessment, but rather to help demystify some esoteric and abstract terms in art and design discourse, such as ‘intuition’ and ‘not knowing’. Rather than translating into words what is already communicated in practice, I therefore propose enunciating the areas of art and design that facilitate an artist’s understanding of their own practices, as well as their articulation of it. Forms of theory and forms of CCS are an inherent part of art and design courses; however, it is the form of assessment – and with that, the lecture theatre and the essay – that drives much of the recognised provision at post-compulsory pre-degree level (as described in Chapter 6).

Subject cultures: defining the subject Subject cultures are underpinned by their historical legacy, into which staff are socialised (‘antecedent subject subcultures’, as discussed in Goodson and Mangan, 1995). As with the ‘learning cultures’ that James and Biesta (2007) identify, antecedent subject subcultures exist beyond and prior to the arrival of the student and the tutor. According to this approach, students and tutors interpret and develop social practices that are aligned to subject identities. Where antecedent subject subcultures meet contemporary subject concerns, however, culture clashes emerge

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(Goodson et al., 2002). While Goodson is referring to school subjects, these concepts are useful to consider in relation to studio practice and CCS as the internal workings of the subject of art and design. In terms of art and design, the antecedent subject culture is one of tacit knowledge and embodied knowledge (as proposed in Chapter 2). It is also tied up with the Romantic myths of the genius artist, innate creativity and the untutored nature of art and design: a distorting mythology, particularly for the field of art and design education. These subject identities are maintained and rehearsed by the staff members who teach them; this creates a ‘community of practice’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991) into which new teaching staff are socialised. For example, Goodson, Anstead and Marshall (1998: 106) describe subject cultures as playing a central role in the preparation of teachers, as well as defining a subject culture-specific set of priorities, learning activities and ways in which students relate to their work and their tutors. Antecedent subject subcultures may have an impact on – and indeed clash with – these subject cultures. In the case of art and design, discrete constructions of CCS appear to sit alongside the dominant subject culture rather than within it. While ‘theory’ manifests throughout the art and design course, the form of discrete CCS – the lecture theatre and essay assessment – insulates this aspect of the course from studio practice (as discussed in Chapter 6). The identity of CCS is in flux (as discussed in Chapter 1). For example, over the last decade, descriptions of CCS (named ‘unit 5’ pre-2016; ‘unit 2’ post-2016) in the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) course (introduced in Chapter 4) have gradually shifted to recommendations for a more integrated delivery. In 2007, the examining body Edexcel set the aim of CCS: The aim of this unit (named unit 5) is to provide a broad knowledge of developments in art, craft and design. In 2010, the CCS unit became ‘Contextual Influences in Art and Design’: The aim of this unit is to develop learners’ skills and knowledge of how historical and cultural influences inform art, craft and design. (Edexcel, 2010)1 This changed in 2016 to ‘Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design’: Learners develop skills in contextual research and visual analysis in order to critically analyse the work of others and improve their own practice. (Edexcel, 2016) 2 It appears that, in the syllabus from 2016, CCS is being brought closer to the antecedent subject subculture of art and design. This shift includes a sharper focus on individual student research and the removal of the essay assessment. There is now a written assessment under exam conditions, currently in the form of

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composing text for an exhibition guide and an email to a curator.3 By reshaping the form of the writing exercises in this way, both the content and the form relate to the field of art and design (see Chapter 6 for a fuller discussion on form and content). This potentially draws CCS closer to the subject field of art and design and dismantles the abstracted and detached identity of ‘the essay’ in relation to studio practice.

Staff identities within subject cultures Subject cultures or communities represent particular constructions of teaching, learning and knowledge, which are strengthened and maintained by the staff involved in them. ‘Subject cultures’, in Goodson and Mangan’s (1995: 120) terms, are ‘identifiable structures which are visibly expressed through classroom organisation and pedagogical styles’. Where CCS is a discrete subject with the ‘pedagogic authority’ of the lecture theatre (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994), it is part of a subject culture distinct from studio practice. While antecedent subject subcultures refer to the legacy of the subject, drawing on its histories and existence beyond the institution, there are also distinct subject subcultures within each institution. Such subcultures consist of: the general set of institutional practices and expectations which has grown up around a particular school subject and which shapes the definition of that subject as both a distinct area of study and a social construct. (Goodson and Mangan, 1995: 615) This definition refers to school subjects; however, it is also reflected across postcompulsory education, where departments or faculties within education institutions often divide such cultures. This reinforces and normalises divisions between subjects into which staff are socialised (Lacey, 1977; Goodson and Marsh, 1996). Chapter 5 proposed that there are discrete and dispersed variations of CCS in an art and design course; as site-specific ‘ideal types’, these manifest as CCS in the lecture theatre and CCS in the studio. As such, CCS sometimes appears to fit within an antecedent subject culture that is not art and design. In some institutions, this causes a subject culture clash. This is the case at Penton, where a clash between CCS as an independent subject and the subject of art and design appears to become a clash of staff interests and approaches. The affiliation of staff members with one or other of these ‘subjects’ appears to be the crux of the tension, as well as staff understanding of the subject cultures in question. While EDAD staff members perceive CCS as an inseparable and embedded part of the subject culture of art and design, the CCS team (whose members have art history backgrounds) regards CCS as fundamental to, yet distinct within, the subject culture of art and design. This demonstrates that, while the antecedent subject culture can be seen as preparing teachers for understanding and teaching their subject (Goodson, 1998), the case of art and design is more complex.

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It appears that the multiple identities and roles of CCS as something of a subject within a subject destabilise or create a friction within the subject culture of art and design, and in staff identities. Within art and design education, a variety of staff identities maintain the subject subcultures. There is an expectation that the art and design subject tutor is directly engaged with the broad antecedent subject culture, in that they are ‘practising’ artists or designers. This is an approach that other (school) subjects do not share to the same extent. It is not the case (or is far less often the case) in higher education (HE), where there are active research communities; however, it is certainly true of further education (FE), in the interim between compulsory full-time education and HE. This puts art and design education in a particular position, one that accommodates three dominant practitioner identities: the artist practitioner, the education practitioner and the theory practitioner. With reference to the case study data introduced in Chapter 4 and detailed in Chapter 5, the following sections outline these identities, which vary in strength from course to course and impact upon CCS design and its potential for integration.

Artist practitioner The message encapsulated in statements such as ‘the subject [art] is by many standards unteachable or unlearnable’ (Esche, 2009: 102) and ‘you can’t teach art’ (Baldessari and Craig-Martin, 2009: 44) is an unhelpful one that emerges through the antecedent subject culture of art and design. The view of art as ‘unteachable’ perpetuates the distorting mythology of art as mysterious, unconscious and unthinking. It is as problematic as the claim that intuition is mysterious and unskilled (as discussed in Chapter 2). While there appear to be clashes between the identity and practices valued and accountable in education systems and those in art and design, this is not to say that art and education are themselves incompatible. Baldessari suggests that, while art is unteachable, ‘it might be a good idea to have artists teaching’ (Baldessari and Craig-Martin, 2009: 44). This focus on the artist is evident at Wrickford, where all studio staff are practising artists and the CCS tutor is an art historian: We’ve got a lot of staff here who have great skills in one small area – they’re brilliant at that but actually are pretty useless at anything else. A broadly skilled teaching-type person is not really what we have here. . . . A lot of the staff here don’t have teaching backgrounds. (Course manager, Wrickford) This emphasis on staff as specialist artists and designers can be related to De Duve’s second ‘shift’ (as discussed in Chapter 2), which epitomises the Modernist art school.The emphasis is on the subject, in that staff members are predominantly arts practitioners rather than education practitioners.This is in contrast to staff members within more integrated curriculum designs, such as at Penton, who integrate CCS

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into their studio teaching and consider themselves to be generalists. The emphasis on specialism at Wrickford does not mean that a form of CCS in the studio setting does not exist there, but rather that this form of CCS is not formally acknowledged. This creates a divided subject subculture: the subject subculture of the studio is associated with ‘practice’ and is maintained by artists, whereas that of the lecture theatre is associated with ‘theory’ or ‘CCS’ and is maintained by a theorist. Whereas knowledges within the studio are tacit and based on doubt and risk in a rhizomatic structure (as discussed in Chapter 2), those of the lecture theatre are linear and codified (see Chapter 3 for a discussion on knowledge). Furthermore, the course is divided by medium, in accordance with De Duve’s Bauhaus Model (described in Chapter 1), whereby specialism is associated with specific media. At Wrickford, the artist practitioner is a key part of the identity of studio staff members. At this level (16–18-year-olds), students indicate that they need more guidance; one student at Wrickford said that the ‘studio tutors can be a bit confusing, like everything seems so open’. Hetherington states: Perhaps doubt is the discipline. Perhaps one reason that it is essential that artists do the teaching is that they know and value this doubt and can share it authentically. . . . There would seem to be no reason why doubt and debate should not themselves be operationalised in curricula and evidenced through assessment criteria. (Hetherington, 1994: 16) While the artist practitioner identity at Wrickford coincides with some confusion for students, it is a different story at Rensworth, where studio tutors – each of whom identifies as an artist practitioner – teach CCS. Despite the discrete structure and lecture theatre form of part of CCS, the staff refrain from adhering to the traditional codes of the lecture theatre that Bourdieu and Passeron (1994) describe. One studio tutor at Rensworth explained that ‘it is easier for the art tutor to teach like an artist, rather than doing something different’.The approach is therefore based on process, doubt and ‘not knowing’. As with the ‘not knowing’ and ‘intuitive practice’ discussed in Chapter 2 with regard to art and design practice, this ‘not knowing’ as a pedagogical approach is possible because of the skill and ‘expert-intuitive-leap’ (Melrose, 2011): Give us a big screen and a three-inch-plus stage, and we’re away. And it could go anywhere. (Studio tutor, Rensworth) On the surface, this may sound negligent or unprofessional; but, on the contrary, it is the rigorous planning, experience and integration of identities as artist, pedagogue and theorist that root this doubt, risk and ‘unknown’. At Rensworth, the lecture theatre is redefined and claimed as an artists’ space, representing the antecedent subject culture as well as the subject subcultures that are under construction

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in this integration of identities. One studio tutor at Rensworth is a performance artist, who describes the lecture theatre experience as a ‘performance’: When I go in [to the lecture theatre] it’s theatre to me. I love it. And I make it theatre and I make it live and I get them involved. If we’re doing something on the history of a painting they’ll end up performing it, a body sculpture. It’s very edgy stuff and times, and I don’t know where it’s going. The Rensworth lecture theatre is personalised; there is an integration of ‘the I’ or ‘the self’ that is described as lacking in work associated with CCS (for example, see Raein, 2003; Pollen, 2015), and the tutors set the pace and structure of the lecture: The chair from which a lecture emanates takes over the tone, the diction, the delivery and the oratorical action of whoever occupies it, whatever his personal wishes. (Bourdieu and Passeron, 1994: 11) Unlike the lecture theatre conventions to which Bourdieu and Passeron (1994) are referring, however, tutors at Rensworth use their positions as ‘chairs’ to reconfigure the culture of the lecture theatre. By subverting and personalising the characteristic assumptions of the lecture theatre, they thus break the repetition of linguistic and behavioural conventions. At Rensworth, students learn as artists and tutors teach as artists, thereby clashing with the antecedent subject culture that is lecture-based discrete CCS. As the performance artist studio tutor affirms, his identity as an artist and his pedagogic approach are inseparable: ‘I’m a performance artist, that’s what I do. And the students are artists too, and that’s how they learn and what they understand.’ The situation at Rensworth demonstrates the significance of the communities of practice in which students are learning. Within an art and design course, students are adhering to identities as student artists rather than as students in any other subject, recalling Bruner’s (1960: 14) proposal that ‘the school-boy learning physics is a physicist, and it is easier for him to learn physics behaving like a physicist than doing something else’. The situation at Rensworth also demonstrates that these subject behaviours are relevant to staff. Hickman (2005) talks about being an artist as fundamental to one’s way of knowing and being. While this occurs at Wrickford – where all studio staff members are artist practitioners (without an education training) – it is not the case at Rensworth, where studio staff members are trained in both art practice and education practice. In the case of the Rensworth tutor described previously, these identities intersect in his performative lectures, which reconfigure the pedagogy of the lecture theatre. This echoes the premise that ‘Artist–teachers are not just artists who teach; their artistic thinking process is imbedded within various elements of the teaching process’ (Daichendt, 2010: 10).

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Rather than privileging one identity, staff members at Rensworth display what might be understood as ‘art education’ practitioner identities. This fits with Wilkins’ (2011) suggestion that local knowledge gives agency to educators and is thus preferable to adopting a generic, standardised and externally defined example of ‘best practice’. In the case of Rensworth, this ‘local knowledge’ emerges from the specific subject culture that is ‘art education’ rather than from the more general field of ‘education’; it is the expertise of staff members as artist/educators that creates local ‘best practice’ within subject subcultures at this institution.

Education practitioner Incompatibilities between ‘art and design’ and ‘teaching and learning’ are normalised. Discourse around the unteachability of art and design (Madoff, 2009; Elkins, 2001) can be useful in challenging the institutionalisation of knowledge exchange and assessment; however, less helpful is the binary construct of artist/educator, whereby the artist educator is assumed to have sacrificed the field of art and design for the field of education. With regard to compulsory schooling, Addison and Burgess (2010: 1) suggest that, ‘in choosing to become a teacher of art and design in secondary school, you have moved from one field of practice (art, craft and design) to another (that of pedagogy)’; there are also echoes of this throughout postcompulsory education. In the UK, this is increasingly the case for teacher training in FE and post-16 education, as well as being evident in the growing expectation for HE teachers to complete the PGCHE4 and its equivalents. At Barrinborough, tutors on the EDAD identify primarily as educators rather than as practitioners. In these cases, the interview conversations were less about the individual tutors themselves or the subject content than the form of the course, in terms of curriculum structures and syllabus requirements. Barrinborough is a sixth-form centre and is the only institution of the five that shares its site with a school (and therefore with compulsory schooling). This emphasis on the education practitioner, however, is also evident at Penton, which is a specialist art and design institution offering art and design courses up to degree level. Of all five sites, staff members from these two EDAD courses associate most with the identity of pedagogue over that of artist, even though there appears to be no commonality in type of institution. The Penton EDAD team practises a rejection of subject specialism on the course, prioritising pedagogy and integration: I don’t think I am a specialist in any area, but I think I go across the board, and ‘history and contextual’ [CCS] is in every area as far as I’m concerned, and I try to bring it in in sneaky ways so they don’t see it as ‘Oh no, we’ve got to do the history now and we hate writing’. So I’m hoping that for their own practice they’ve got to address that. Hopefully. I focus on how to teach everything together, so that the students don’t see divides. (Studio tutor, Penton)

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The good intentions here demonstrate an understanding of integration as a removal of boundaries around aspects of the curriculum through the practice of pedagogy. This evidence of Bernstein’s (1971) ‘weak classification’ and ‘strong framing’ highlights two shifts that appear to converge in art education in the post-compulsory sector. The first of these is the shift towards the notion of the FE art and design tutor as a practitioner of education as well as – or at times rather than – a practitioner of a specialist area of art and design. The second is the increased value placed upon the post-16 teaching qualification, as part of the 2004 Equipping Our Teachers for the Future professionalisation agenda. These two shifts could be understood as pointing in the same direction: towards an emphasis on the education practitioner over the artist practitioner. In some cases, this shift away from the specialist arts practitioner leads to what appears to be a more generalist and integrated curriculum, as is the case at Penton. Barrinborough and Penton are useful examples of the education practitioner. At Barrinborough there are three members of staff who teach on a full-time basis across the whole programme, and at Penton two. Given the small size of the teams, these staff members are not associated with particular areas of practice; rather, they are generalists within art and design whose area of focus is the educational experience of the students. At worst, the emphasis on the tutor as education practitioner detracts from the specialist form and content of the subject studied; at best, these tutors are art education practitioners who constitute the site in which art practice and art theory are integrated in order to facilitate the development of the students as artists. Both staff members on the EDAD course at Penton are full-time education practitioners (with teaching qualifications) from arts backgrounds. This is in contrast to Wrickford, where all studio staff members work part-time and maintain their own (specialist) arts practice; the only staff member at Wrickford with a teaching qualification is the CCS tutor. From a student perspective, students at both Penton and Wrickford express ‘confusion’ in the studio space; at Wrickford, they say that they are most clear in the CCS lectures. The education ‘site’ – and, with it, the familiar scholastic transmission of knowledge that is embedded in the lecture theatre structure – relieves the students of the burden of studio ‘ambiguity’ and relieves studio staff of ‘the burden of that tricky subject’ (Course manager, Wrickford). In 2005, Biggs described the ‘academic corporate raider’ in relation to art practices. This was in reference to the theoretical discourse from which art practices borrow in order to gain a place within the field of research and education: As a result of this situation [of ‘experimental art practices’ being ‘undertheorised’] there is a very strong temptation for artists to ‘do a deal’ with the academic corporate raider, borrowing the support of theoretical discourses in return for establishing a more authoritative place for practice in the academy. The price of this is, however, the gradual [shift in] emphasis from the experimental to the academic in art practice, since the identity of both artist

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and practice becomes increasingly inseparable from the academic priorities of the discourse to which it is related. (Biggs, 2005: 125) As these academic priorities become increasingly embroiled in a context of marketisation and a related emphasis on accountability – particularly in terms of student satisfaction surveys and league tables – there is a growing pressure on pedagogy and assessment. Within the ‘educational turn’, the role of artist practitioner risks being subsumed into the role of education practitioner. Or, more positively, this turn opens up the possibility for a third space in which education and artist intersect. Paying attention to the space in which education and art and design intersect has the potential to facilitate identities and pedagogies specific to ‘art education’, as demonstrated at Rensworth (as discussed in the preceding section on the artist practitioner). In this sense, the education identity and the artist identity combine. This does not result in education ‘pinning down’, restricting or dictating the culture of art practice, however; rather, it creates a new field. Besides, ‘the universities do not possess the arts in the way that they do the formal academic disciplines, precisely because they do not create them’ (Stenhouse, 1975: 11). There is scope, therefore, for the creation of a space that is not a nostalgic reformation of the art school but is rather a new space in which studio practice and CCS combine with education practices.

Theory practitioner Part of the subject culture of art and design is locating it as distinct in culture from education and as discrete from theory. Locating art and design in such a way is a shifting but residual habit in much art education practice. In the 1990s, Susan Hiller highlighted this divide and its emphasis on the fields of education and of academia, suggesting that art practice – or ‘doing art’ – is overshadowed by the ‘slide from practice to theory, from particular experiences to generalized abstractions, from the dream to the word, from art to education’ (Hiller, 1993: 43). These binaries contrast with the more contemporary rethinking of theory proposed in Chapter 2. Part of the problem here appears to be the conflation of theory with education, as though CCS is a product of the education system as opposed to something that occurs (albeit under a different guise and without the assessment) within the field of art and design. It is still worth reminding students of Heidt’s point from the early 1980s: ‘theory and research are not found in the “subject” of art education alone, but in the field of art as well’ (Heidt, 1982: 44). There remains, within art and design courses, an isolation of ‘theory’. In discussing her previous role at a partner college, the CCS coordinator at Rensworth said: I was employed on a Tuesday to do theory, but I’d be given unit 5 (the unit most commonly labelled ‘CCS’) but also P1 and P2 of unit 19 because it’s

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about historical typography design, or the ‘look at the work of others’ in unit 4 ‘Materials and Processes’, so, you know, I’d be given any theoretical aspect of all the different units, where relevant. . . . Just because it’s a theory unit it doesn’t have to be delivered by a separate person, on a separate day, in a separate place to all the other units. That kind of explains my rationale for seeing it in an integrated way in my current role. (CCS coordinator, Rensworth) ‘Theory’ is ubiquitous; as such, attempting to artificially isolate all ‘theory’ elements of the course and integrating them into one space with specialised staff is impossible. Rather than housing all theory within a course (whatever that means), CCS is best identified as an organised theoretical provision within the course field, something that has a specific remit yet provides training in ways of thinking and questioning in relation to, and support of, practice. This is not to suggest that subject-specific staff members’ identities (or responsibilities) should be removed or blurred; rather, it demonstrates that both CCS and studio practice exist within the culture of art and design. Bruner’s (1960) notion of learning as a member of the field of practice is useful to consider here. CCS provides a space for either reinforcing or disrupting Bruner’s conception, depending on the form that CCS takes. When CCS is isolated within its own community of practice, such as at Wrickford, it looks on the surface as though the field of practice is disrupted or divided. Where CCS is delivered within studio aspects of the course, as at Penton, it is perceived as part of the community of art and design practice. At Wrickford, however, there are examples of students engaging in integrative practice, while at Penton there is confusion and ambiguity (see Chapter 5). In addition, at Penton, the field of practice that is reinforced is one of pastoral care and pedagogy rather than art and design. Penton’s focus on integration frames the subject of art and design more as a tool for student development than as a subject defined by rigorous processes of exploration, doubt and debate. This is not to say that art and design education cannot do both; however, this binary is reinforced on the course. There is an intriguing connection here to the 1949 National Art Education Association policy statement, which labelled art as ‘less a body of subject matter than a developmental activity’ (NAEA, 1949: 1).

Fragmented communities Conflicting attitudes, interests and definitions of staff roles are evidenced at Penton, and to a lesser extent at Rensworth, with regard to CCS provision. Just as subjects are not monolithic entities, so subject communities are segmented; such communities consist of tribes and territories (Becher and Trowler, 1989), as demonstrated in Bucher and Strauss’s (1976) model of professions, which suggests that subject communities are fragmented rather than homogeneous. Internal factions are based on the antecedent subject culture (Goodson, 1998) supported by staff practice and the

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inconsistencies in defining what the subject actually is, as well as the ways in which staff relations, roles and identities shape and maintain these frictions. This is not to deny that there are also more homogenised subject communities in this study. For example, Barrinborough and the EDAD team at Penton appear to represent more unified subject communities than those that combine a teaching team of studio staff and discrete specialist CCS staff, such as Wrickford. However, in the case of Barrinborough, this homogenisation leads to a diluted CCS provision. Likewise, in the case of Penton, this homogenisation within the EDAD team results in a hidden and underdeveloped CCS. In Penton, this is in conflict with the college’s support of a discrete CCS team and provision. Whether it is a conflict of interests or an amicable divide, the fracture between studio staff and CCS staff has been described here in terms of the training of the tutors associated with those parts of the programme. As has been suggested, there is a staff divide at Penton and Wrickford in that studio staff members are from an art and design practice background and CCS staff members are from history of art or literary and theoretical arts backgrounds. Chapter 3 suggested that such a split represents a divide in knowledge systems and structures and a divide in subject community or culture; these have been discussed here in terms of the antecedent subject subculture (Goodson, 1998). Although the academic CCS/practical art and design divide can be construed as arbitrary and reductive, it recurs as a theme in current practice in art and design education. This theory/practice relationship manifests in three dominant ways in the case study data. The first is the identity of staff. Staff members are associated predominantly – even exclusively – with either CCS or studio practice (as at Wrickford), and in these cases CCS is discrete. The second is the perceived importance of ‘theory’ and staff members’ fears of CCS falling into the position of being ‘Other’ to art and design unless there is a conscious collaboration between staff members (Rensworth). In these cases, CCS appears in both discrete and dispersed forms. The third is the fear of academic drift in art and design, which results in no distinction being made between CCS and the rest of the course (as illustrated by the EDAD team at Penton) and thus disperses and dilutes CCS. At Penton, the EDAD staff support the dissolving of boundaries and hierarchies: They [each area of the EDAD course, such as graphics, photography, painting, CCS] all kind of melt together. I think they are all part of a . . . [pause] . . . I think that keeping them separate is really . . . [pause] . . . hmmmm. I don’t see any difference [in different parts of the course], but I know it can be seen like that but it really annoys me. (Studio staff member, Penton) A generalist and integrated identity is ascribed to the EDAD and those involved in it at Penton. Specialism is rejected as something that fragments and induces hierarchies.

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The ‘problem’ of specialist subjects and tutors and the tightly classified and framed curriculum that accompanies them is an ongoing issue in education. As Goodson (1993: 31) highlighted, the Norwood Report in 1943 expressed concern over subjects becoming the preserves of specialist teachers, boundaries being built between subjects, and other teachers not crossing such boundaries. Wrickford illustrates this concept: CCS is tightly classified and framed and is not intruded upon by other staff members; nor is the CCS tutor involved in the delivery of other parts of the course. As such, at Wrickford, CCS and studio practice are presented as distinct subject fields. Although this appears to be anti-integrationist, there is potential integrative merit in this course design (as demonstrated in the following chapter). Young discusses the notion of common values within subject fields (in Golby, Greenwald and West, 1975: 117), which define what that subject field is about. Young talks about the teaching of sciences and suggests that those teaching science share (either implicitly or explicitly) some common values and norms, which means that the three sciences – chemistry, physics and biology – are ‘integrated’ at one level, however strong the identities of each may be (Golby, Greenwald and West, 1975). In line with this, if specialist pathways such as textiles, photography, graphics, fashion and fine art (among others) can be viewed as sharing a common culture within the broad field of art and design (despite their independent loyalties) and are thus ‘integrated’ at one level, it might be assumed that CCS inevitably sits within that shared culture of values and norms. The variability in CCS provision across all sites is largely due to the dispositions of staff members and the ways in which they consequently use the syllabus: There is a scheme of work that they [Edexcel] suggest, on the website, but they seem to be very focused on the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. I suppose that is where a lot of stuff happens. But I tend to focus as much on that as on more contemporary things. (CCS tutor, Wrickford) The syllabus is not always addressed directly; it is down to the individual tutor to design the CCS provision depending on what they deem to be relevant knowledge. As suggested in the previous section, this is dependent on their backgrounds as practitioners, both in art and design and in education: As a practising artist, [I think] it isn’t necessary for this canon of art history to be passed on. For contemporary artists there isn’t one set of knowledge that needs to be passed on. We do deliver the 1851–1951 package that the Edexcel spec specifies, in term one with a series of seminars and tasks, but I say to the students, ‘This package is not comprehensive, it’s exclusive.’ (CCS coordinator, Rensworth)

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Conclusion As Goodson (1995 [1988]) demonstrates, a subject’s status is influenced not only by knowledge hierarchies and organisational structures, which reflect the status of the subject as it has evolved historically, but also by the dispositions of the staff members who are responsible for the subject and how they view and manage their roles and positions. Staff dispositions are also a key contributor to the learning culture, in terms of the Teaching and Learning Cultures (TLC) FE project (James and Biesta, 2007). This is pertinent at the case study sites (particularly Wrickford) and is tied into the identity of the subject. Tutor identities – as artists or art historians, theorists or practitioners – create a divide between CCS and the rest of the art and design course. This divide also creates a displaced identity for CCS specialists from an art history background: I suppose that teaching art history [to artists] when you can’t paint or draw to save your life is slightly hypocritical almost, but it’s like any critic or anyone who writes about something. We [art historians] talk about artists’ work, whereas the artists talk through their work. (CCS tutor, Wrickford) A distinction is made between the culture of art and design and the culture of art history. This tutor perceives his (and his subject’s) identity as clearly distinct from the identity, language and approach of art and design; that is, as clearly distinct from the student body in his institution and the course on which he is teaching. CCS appears to be both emerging as a subject field within its own right from the field of art and design, and entering the subject field of art and design from a combination of other subject areas. Within art and design education, CCS is often framed as being attached to an antecedent subject culture that is distinct from art and design practice. Frictions emerge through historical and cultural relationships between subjects. As this chapter has demonstrated, these subject cultures and clashes are maintained in part through staff practices and the fractures and tensions within them. Underlying the tensions within the subject culture of art and design is the construction of ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ as a dichotomy and the channelling of each into CCS and studio work respectively. In addition, ‘art’ and ‘pedagogy’ are framed as conflicting fields. Staff members often reinforce these divides, but not because they do not want to find ways to integrate ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ or ‘pedagogy’ and ‘art’. Rather, these labels and the divides between them represent fields of identity for both staff and subject; they are rehearsed through inheriting antecedent subject subcultures, staff dispositions and pragmatics, such as ease of curriculum organisation and assessment. At Rensworth, unlike all the other case sites, integration occurs through the teaching staff and teaching sites. While CCS staff and studio staff have discrete

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identities, both groups teach across the studio and the lecture theatre; studio staff members are involved in lecture delivery and CCS staff members are involved in studio crits (critiques).5 Furthermore, one of the studio staff here reconfigures the lecture theatre space by ‘integrating’ his identities as artist and pedagogue, so that these fields intersect rather than enter into tension. It seems to be through the merging of these identity fields that interesting integrative work emerges, such as the reconfigured lecture theatre at Rensworth. However, an important feature of the integration and management of CCS at Rensworth appears to be the identities of CCS and studio practice as discrete yet symbiotic; the interesting integrative work is situated at the point where both aspects of the course intersect with pedagogy. That art and design is a learnable and teachable subject, within which CCS is located, is a useful starting point for planning for integration (discussed in the next chapter). Hulks proposes: Too much credence is given to the idea that art education works by some mysterious process of osmosis, which is why art and design is so often perceived as enrichment. . . . Teachers should also be able to state more clearly that art and design is a subject to learn. (Hulks, 2003: 142) I do not disagree with Hulks. There are problems with the mystification of art and design and the identity of the subject as a ‘soft’ ‘service provider’, which flows up from compulsory schooling to the ways in which the subject is identified (and undervalued) within academia and more broadly. Furthermore, too much credence is given to the idea that art education should be immediately measurable and that ‘what it wants to teach’ is only valid if results are immediately visible (specifically through assessment). Art and design is certainly a subject to learn. Such learning could be facilitated by referring back to some of the proposals on intuition and ‘not knowing’ in Chapter 2, the ways in which tutors make sense of learning in art and design, and the integration of CCS with studio practice in this learning. The following chapter attempts to do this.

Notes 1 See https://qualifications.pearson.com/content/dam/pdf/BTEC-Nationals/Art-andDesign/2010/Specification/Unit_5_Contextual_Influences_in_Art_and_Design.pdf. 2 See http://qualifications.pearson.com/content/dam/pdf/BTEC-Nationals/Art-and-Design/ 2016/specification-and-sample-assessments/Specification-Art-and-Design-NationalExtended-diploma.pdf. 3 See http://qualifications.pearson.com/content/dam/pdf/BTEC-Nationals/Art-and-Design/ 2016/specification-and-sample-assessments/Sample-assessment-material-Unit-2Critical-And-Contextual-Studies-In-Art-And-Design.pdf. 4 The PGCHE is the Postgraduate Certificate in Higher Education. 5 A ‘crit’ is a process of formal analysis of student work. During a crit, students usually present and discuss their work with peers and tutors. This is often formative (during a project), or part of an assessment process.

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References Addison, N. and Burgess, L. (2010) ‘Introduction’, in Addison, N., Burgess, L., Steers, J. and Trowell, J., Understanding Art Education: Engaging Reflexively with Practice. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 1–3. Baldessari, J. and Craig-Martin, M. (2009) ‘Conversation’, in Madoff, S. H. (ed.), Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 41–52. Ball, S. (1981) Beachside Comprehensive: A Case Study of Secondary Schooling. New York: Cambridge University Press. Ball, S. and Lacey, A. (1984) ‘Subject disciplines as the opportunity for group action: a measured critique of subject sub-cultures’, in Hargreaves, A. and Woods, P. (eds), Classrooms and Staffrooms. Milton Keynes: Open University Press. Becher, T. and Trowler, P. (1989) Academic Tribes and Territories: Intellectual Inquiry Across the Disciplines. Buckingham: Open University Press. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Biggs, I. (2005) ‘Peripheral vision’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 115–35. Bourdieu, P. and Passeron, J. C. (1994) ‘Language and relationship to language in the teaching situation’, in Bourdieu, P., Passeron, J. C. and Saint Martin, M., Academic Discourse: Linguistic Misunderstanding and Professorial Power. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Bruner, J. (1960) The Process of Education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bucher, R. and Strauss, A. (1976) ‘Professions in process’, in Hammersley, M. and Woods, P. (eds), The Process of Schooling. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Daichendt, G. J. (2010) Artist Teacher: A Philosophy for Creating and Teaching. Bristol: Intellect. Elkins, (2001) Why Art Cannot Be Taught: A Handbook for Art Students. Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press. Esche, C. (2009) ‘Include me out’, in Madoff, S. H. (ed.), Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 101–12. Golby, M., Greenwald, J. and West, R. (1975) Curriculum Design. London: The Open University. Goodson, I. (1993) School Subjects and Curriculum Change. London and Sydney: Croom Helm. Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. and Mangan, J. M. (1995) ‘Subject cultures and the introduction of classroom computers’, British Educational Research Journal, 21(5): 613–28. Goodson, I. and Marsh, C. J. (1996) Studying School Subjects: A Guide. London: Routledge. Goodson, I., Anstead, C. J. and Marshall, M. J. (1998) Subject Knowledge: Readings for the Study of School Subjects. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I., Knobel, M., Lankshear, C. and Mangan, J. M. (2002) Cyber Spaces/Social Spaces: Culture Clash in Computerized Classrooms. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Heidt, A. (1982) ‘Reply to Elliot Eisner’s Relationship of Theory and Practice in Art Education’, Art Education, 35(3) (May): 44. Hetherington, P. (ed.) (1994) Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications. Hickman, R. (2005) Critical Studies in Art and Design Education. Bristol: Intellect. Hiller, S. (1993) ‘An artist looks at art education’, in The Curriculum for Fine Art in Higher Education in the Nineties. London: Wimbledon School of Art and Tate Gallery.

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Hulks, D. (2003) ‘Measuring artistic performance: the assessment debate and art education’, in Addison, N. and Burgess, L., Issues in Art and Design Teaching. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 134–42. James, D. and Biesta, G. J. J. (2007) Improving Learning Cultures in Further Education. London: Routledge. Lacey, C. (1977) The Socialisation of Teachers. London: Methuen. Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Madoff, S. H. (ed.) (2009) Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Melrose, (2011) ‘A Cautionary Note or Two, Amid the Pleasures and Pains of Participation in Performance-making as Research’. Paper presented at ‘Participation, Research and Learning in the Performaing Arts Symposium’. Centre for Creative Collaboration, London, May. NAEA (1949) Policy Statement. Alexandria, VA: National Art Education Association (NAEA), p. 1. Pollen, A. (2015) ‘My position in the design world: locating subjectivity in the design curriculum’, Design and Culture, 7(1): 85–105. Raein, M. (2003) Where is the ‘I’? London: Writing-PAD. Stenhouse, L. (1975) An Introduction to Curriculum Research and Development. London: Heinemann. Stibbs, A. (1998) ‘Language in art and art in language’, International Journal of Art and Design Education, 17(2): 201–9. Wilkins, R. (2011) Research Engagement for School Development. London: Institute of Education Press. Young, M. F. D. (1971) ‘An approach to the study of curricula as socially organised knowledge’, in Young, M. F. D. (ed.), Knowledge and Control. London: Collier-Macmillan, pp. 19–46.

PART III

Proposals and recommendations

8 APPROACHES TO INTEGRATING CCS Where does integration reside?

Introduction The label ‘integration’ is frequently used in aspirational terms to describe an educational goal or process that will improve the student experience, engagement and understanding. What this goal actually looks like is not clear (Pring, 1971; Badley, 2009). As introduced in Chapter 3, the meanings of integration vary depending on whether it is perceived as a holistic approach or as a technique to be applied to varying degrees. The practice of integration is dependent not only on this epistemological starting point, but also on the motivations behind it. A reified promise of integration is that of students developing a more critical creative practice; however, there are other motivations behind the integration goal, including control of knowledge and subject status (as discussed in the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters). The aim of this chapter is to present some models of integration that might be helpful for course teams to consider when reflecting on their CCS provision and the model of integration implied by their current practices.With this aim in mind, core questions in this chapter are: where is integration located, and at what point is integration expected or thought to occur? Through an exploration of where and when integration might reside, proposals will be made regarding the potential for curriculum change to affect it. As such, exploring these questions is essential in order to utilise the discussion presented throughout this book. This chapter draws upon data from the five case study sites detailed in Chapter 5, including student group interviews in which students made visual representations of their courses as prompts for discussion.1 These student voices help locate the points at which elements of CCS merge with practice. With reference to the data, and in light of the discussion throughout the book, this chapter introduces three models of integration: designed integration, facilitated integration and intuitive integration. The first, designed integration, is designed into the curriculum and realised immediately in students’ practice. The second, facilitated integration, occurs where there

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is a separate-subject approach in the curriculum and the student integrates these separate elements within their own practice. The student does so ‘naturally’ (as discussed in Chapter 5) rather than because they are given strict instruction to do so, although staff members may help facilitate the process by using prompts. The third model, intuitive integration, is realised by the student in future practice rather than through the immediacy of the first two models. This chapter will demonstrate the ways in which these models can help shape curriculum design and student experience. Although it is not claimed here that these models are uniform and predictable, they may make useful starting points for approaching the integration of CCS in an art and design curriculum. Current concerns regarding the integration of CCS in art and design education stem in part from questions over the artificial nature of the theory/practice divide. This binary is well rehearsed in British post-compulsory art education; the current system owes much to the legacy of mid-century art education policy changes inspired by William Coldstream and the Summerson Committee.2 It is not unusual for art and design courses to offer a compartmentalised or divided curriculum that identifies distinct subjects, modules or units of study while simultaneously demonstrating an interest in practising ‘integration’. There is an increasing turn towards integration as an educational goal across post-compulsory education in the UK. As such (and as discussed in Chapter 3), the goal of integration is a current issue with a longstanding (and unresolved) history in general education discourse. In the field of art and design, concerns regarding the position, prospects and integration of CCS are equally longstanding.This is demonstrated by changes in the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) syllabus set by the examining body (Edexcel) over the past ten years – from which the five case studies in this book were drawn. Prior to 2010, the Edexcel website made available a separate scheme of work sample for CCS (named unit 5 at the time; unit 2 since 2016), signalling that CCS is a discrete unit. At this point, CCS was labelled ‘Historical and Contextual Influences in Art and Design’. From September 2010, the CCS unit was renamed ‘Contextual Influences in Art and Design’ and the model scheme of work was replaced by a series of sample project briefs that positioned CCS within practical (studio-based) projects. This shift to an integrated curriculum design, delivery and assessment was a move away from conceptualising CCS as a separate body of knowledge. This was reinforced in conversations with the examining body; in email correspondence with a representative of Edexcel, it was stated that students should be encouraged to write and analyse but that the ‘formal academic essay’ should be avoided.3 Taken together, this information offers a strong steer that ideally CCS should be integrated. Despite the examining body recommendations, the formal academic essay – the epitome of academic study and ‘the university’ – is a summative component of the CCS provision at each of the five case study sites and is the most common form of assessment for CCS across post-compulsory art education. In 2016, after the case studies were completed, the CCS provision on the EDAD shifted further to what appears, on the surface, to be an increasingly integrated model. Its title changed to ‘Critical and Contextual Studies in Art and Design’,

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and its unit number changed from unit 5 to unit 2. The 2016 model of CCS is assessed thematically (presumably to discourage the practice of delivering art history chronologically), with an emphasis on research skills. This model is assessed by pieces of writing that could be termed ‘vocational’: for example, written information for a gallery guide and a letter to a curator. Clearly, this heralds a more definite shift away from the formal academic essay. However, although it appears to be more ‘integrated’ into the course, the 2016 CCS unit is set and assessed externally and completed in exam conditions, insulating it in a designated ‘space’ within the wider course. With the models of CCS changing so regularly at pre-degree level and the EDAD increasingly preparing students for higher education (HE), staff members teaching on degree courses might find it useful to reflect on where their current entry-level CCS provision sits in relation to the cultures from which students are entering university. The models proposed in this chapter are pertinent across art education in general at post-compulsory level, while the EDAD case study data are useful in anchoring the definitions and practices of each model.

Integration in the curriculum: realisation in current practice The designed integration model is one where integration is managed within the curriculum and directly realised in student practice. This model is most evident at Penton, where integration is managed within the course structure and content (see Chapter 5 for more on this). Although this model appears to be student-centred, students are relatively passive; they are provided with an already integrated curriculum rather than having to independently and consciously synthesise material. Staff members manage activities so that, for example, a studio brief might include CCS criteria that students are required to meet through practical projects. The assessment of CCS in this model is likely to be evidenced predominantly in sketchbooks and journals, monitored by staff. Consequently, it is not unusual for students to be unaware of CCS as a discrete unit or module. While Penton exemplifies this model most clearly, there is also evidence of it at Barrinborough. Students did not identify ‘CCS’ in the first year of the two-year EDAD at either Penton or Barrinborough. During this period, CCS is embedded in the studio, predominantly in the form of theory for realisation (discussed in Chapter 6). During the second year at Penton, and towards the end of the first year and into the second year at Barrinborough, CCS is visible in a more discrete form that helps students to directly meet the CCS criteria (unit 5 before 2016, at the time of conducting the case studies). At Penton, this discrete provision comes in the form of specific CCS lectures in the studio and culminates in an essay assessment. At Barrinborough, the provision is a series of essay-writing workshops to prepare for the essay assessment. It is most common on the EDAD course for the compulsory CCS unit to be delivered and assessed in the first year. Like Jacobs’ (1989) ‘solid grounding’ model (discussed in Chapter 3), the typical EDAD structure positions CCS as a foundation

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that underpins practice, at best providing the tools for points of synthesis and the development of critical practice. The structure at Penton and Barrinborough appears to be an inversion of this, with the discrete ‘taught’ elements of CCS occurring after the first year. CCS is thus invisible throughout the first year at both Penton and Barrinborough; each of these courses claims to have achieved integration. Unlike at the other four sites, group interviews with first-year students at Penton were mainly about members of teaching staff (particularly the course manager, who teaches across the entire course), upon whom their visual representations of the course also focused. At Barrinborough, too, there was limited reference to CCS in the first-year group interviews. Unlike at Penton, this was also the case with the second-year students. The visual representations at Barrinborough, which all students interviewed produced as prompts for discussion,4 are useful to reference here. The second-year students discussed ‘the essay’ and ‘research for the essay’: that is, they identified CCS in terms of its form of assessment. As Figure 8.1 demonstrates, for example, what would be understood as CCS at other case study sites is reduced to its form of assessment in a written label ‘the essay’ within an otherwise pictorial representation of the course. The student who produced Figure 8.2 made no reference to CCS when describing her representation of the course; however, when asked whether CCS is represented in the diagram in any form, she referenced the representation of a computer screen with ‘Wikipedia’ printed on it. When CCS is visible at Barrinborough, it appears to consist of unguided – and therefore sometimes crude – research as process and formal essay as product.

FIGURE 8.1 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at V Barrinborough Sixth-Form College

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FIGURE 8.2 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at V Barrinborough Sixth-Form College

On closer inspection, Penton is a more ‘designed’ example of integration than Barrinborough (as proposed in the vignette analysis of Penton in Chapter 5). The EDAD staff view at Penton is that CCS is important and should be embedded within the discipline of art and design rather than being a distinct element or discretely attached to it. This is in contrast to the staff view at Barrinborough, where CCS is given limited consideration in course design; the only example of discrete CCS provision at this site takes place during the final-year show, when studio spaces are exhibition spaces and therefore unusable for studio work. Whereas Penton is an example of integration by design, Barrinborough is one of integration by default. Consequently, although Barrinborough appears to be an example of integrated CCS, it is the case that fits least effectively with any meaningful integrative practice. On the surface, Penton seems to be student-centred within a holistic curriculum structure, supporting Bernstein’s ‘integrated code’ and weak classification (1971) between curriculum contents. However, although the boundaries around subject areas are dissolved at Penton, the boundaries around the contours of the course are tightened, insulating the EDAD from other courses in the college. Staff members control these course boundaries and first-year students at Penton suggested (in the group interviews) that they do not feel they have ownership of their learning experience. Rather, they feel restricted in their practice and confused about the

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course structure: ‘We never know what we are doing’ (First-year student, Penton). Within this, ‘CCS’ is an unidentifiable element. As discussed in Chapter 3, Beane’s (1997) model positions integration as a philosophy and approach, and an integrated curriculum allows for the hidden spaces between subjects to be explored, making for a more holistic approach. This model does not hold up in the case of Penton’s integrated curriculum; rather than enriching the curriculum, the integrated approach serves to conceal CCS to the point where it is lost and dissolved within the course: I like to know what it [CCS] is, separate to my art work; as it is now, everything is getting mixed up. They’re like ‘That is a part of history and contextual’ and we’re like ‘Well, you didn’t tell us’. (First-year student, Penton) Penton demonstrates that there is limited student agency and autonomy in the curriculum-centred approach to integration that the course manager defines. Students are absolved of the responsibility to take ownership of integration: that is, of developing their own informed practices. Rather than determining and defining the integration of forms of theory within their own practice, students are disempowered through the ‘controlling nurturance’ of the course manager (as discussed in Chapter 5) and served up a ready-made integrated curriculum in the first year of the course, with little scope for individually developed informed practice. The course structure at Penton is analogous to the proposed inversion of Jacobs’ (1989) ‘solid grounding’ (introduced in Chapter 3). Jacobs (1989) proposed that integration is organised in the first part of the course, followed by discrete provision that provides the solid concepts and subject specifics when students are more able to grasp and synthesise this material. The aim here is for students to experience CCS ‘in action’, integrated with practice; following this, discrete provision would provide more focused, in-depth CCS. This is evident at Penton in the second year, when students begin to synthesise ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ more rigorously.

Integration at the site of the student: realisation in current practice As we have seen, in the first model – designed integration – control resides in the curriculum and results are immediate and predictable. In contrast, the second model – facilitated integration – is an example of assisted integration; here, integration is not designed into the curriculum but rather is set up so that the student can forge connections and decipher links between CCS and studio practice. These connections occur immediately in this model, as with the first model. Unlike the first model, however, these connections are not located in the curriculum, but rather in the student.

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The conditions for this model typically include a discrete lecture programme with some prompts for students to draw upon elements of CCS in the development of their studio work. Hillburton appears to practise this model, with its discrete lecture programme, art history journal and worksheets, and practical responses to the lectures every other week throughout the programme. Students are provided with tools to integrate CCS with their studio work without this being designed into the curriculum as a standardised process (as it is in the first model). This therefore represents an assisted model of integration. One student at Hillburton said: Sometimes Clare’s [the CCS tutor] headings help; she gives us headings to think about when we are analysing art work in CCS,5 and sometimes I use that to help me to analyse my own work when I have to talk about that. (Second-year student, Hillburton) In the first year of study, it appears that the CCS tutor helps students by suggesting how they might draw links with their practice. For example, the following statement is included on the ‘Analysis and Evaluation’ sheet (provided to each student by the CCS tutor): Using the appropriate language and vocabulary will take you beyond the ‘I like that’ or ‘it’s nice’ type of judgement about your work and the work of others. There are, therefore, terms that students are encouraged to employ during CCS lessons and that they then begin to apply in crits in the studio. This demonstrates that students respond independently to aspects of the CCS provision in their studio practice with the assistance of specific learning tools. The first model locates integration within the curriculum; as such, integration can be controlled and predicted. In the second model, however, there is variation from student to student. For example, on whether there are links between CCS and studio practice, one student stated: If you look at William Morris’s designs and the ideas around that, which we had a handout for in the CCS lesson with the ideas written down so we would remember, and then you look at your own work and you think about those ideas and use them to look at your own work, but if you can’t analyse your own work then you are not going to know how to improve or develop better ideas. (First-year student, Hillburton) These attempts to make use of CCS within studio practice appear to be successful in some cases in that they result in the students engaging with a more informed practice. In others, however, the lack of curricular integration creates a fracture

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between CCS and practice. In these cases, the discourse of CCS is deemed supplementary, rather than integral, to art practice: I don’t necessarily think that [you need to be able to engage with your practice in an analytical manner]; I think it depends what you want to do, whether you are interested in doing something analytical or whether you are interested in just getting down and doing the art and not really thinking about anything, or deeper meanings – do you know what I mean? (Second-year student, Hillburton) While some students respond to the prompts for this model of assisted integration at Hillburton, others do not. This quote indicates that this largely depends on the extent to which students understand there to be the possibility for ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ in synthesis. The quote also indicates the resilience of the head/hand divide discussed in Chapter 2. For this approach to integration to be taken, students need to be prompted and assisted. This approach is based on integration manifesting immediately in practice; however, there are examples across all five case studies of students making connections in their work at future, unpredictable points. At Hillburton, for example, second-year students begin to integrate CCS more independently at later stages of the course: It [CCS] does [link to our practical work] if you want it to. Like another tutor might say, ‘You should look at Pop Art for this project’, and then you can go to your art history notebook and find that movement, so it helps you because you already know about it. (Second-year student, Hillburton) CCS at Hillburton provides a body of knowledge in the form of a ‘solid grounding’ (Jacobs, 1989) in the first year, which some students reference in their practice at later points during the second year.

Intuitive integration or integration in process at the site of the student: future realisation In the third model, intuitive integration, integration emerges ‘intuitively’ at unpredictable points and not in the immediate context of the CCS provision. This understanding of ‘intuition’ is based on the definition proposed in Chapter 2. While both the second (facilitated integration) and third (intuitive integration) models place integration within the student, the difference between them is the point at which integration is expected to occur. While it is immediate in the second model (or within the time frame of a project or brief), in the third it is in process and manifests in practice at a future (unspecified) point. This might not sound like a useful educational approach to integration, but curricula can be designed to accommodate it.

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First-year students across all five sites unanimously found it more difficult than second-year students to see the relevance of CCS to practice. A studio tutor at Rensworth stated: I think it would be good for students to make the links themselves from the start, but to be honest with you, the stage that we’re dealing with, you know, by the end of the first year some of them are getting there but they need a lot of guidance. At Rensworth and Wrickford, the third model of integration is most evident; the curriculum is set up for students to integrate CCS intuitively, not at a controllable point in the curriculum – and perhaps even beyond the curriculum itself.

Intuitive integration at Rensworth The EDAD at Rensworth includes a discrete lecture programme (taught by both CCS staff and studio staff) and integrated CCS work in the studio (taught collaboratively by the CCS coordinator and studio staff). In each of the visual representations by first-year students, priority is given to the journal as the site for developing ideas, documenting research and recording references. Figure 8.3 is interesting to consider here; the student who produced this described it as a representation of a brain, under which is situated a tornado of ‘ideas’, leading down to a representation of a hand that illustrates ‘making’. This image signifies a combination of thinking and making, emphasised in the veins of the hands that have the words ‘ideas’ and ‘art’ running through them. When asked about the relationship between the ‘brain’, ‘ideas tornado’ and ‘hand’, the student responded: You would get nowhere if you didn’t think. I mean, if you didn’t think of ideas, you wouldn’t be able to use your hands. (First-year student, Rensworth) Although this could be read in terms of Cartesian dualism (whereby the controlling mind leads the obeying body), it also exhibits the beginning of understanding that ideas, thinking and making are intertwined (as examined in Chapter 2). In contrast to this first-year drawing, a second-year student at Rensworth said: ‘Thoughts and ideas are core; practice tests these ideas and then leads to more ideas development.’ Rather than being a linear process in which thought and theory drive the practice – a process that views practice as the end point, as well as reducing the body (and practice) to serving the mind (and thought) – it is apparent that there is continuous movement between theory and practice for second-year students at Rensworth. Underlying the philosophy at Rensworth is the notion of art works as gestures of thought rather than objects of contemplation (MacLeod and Holdridge, 2005); the works are ideas in process rather than final static products. Second-year students at Rensworth describe theory, practice, thought and art objects as existing within a

FIGURE 8.3 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a first-year student at V Rensworth University of Art

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dialogue that is continuously in process rather than in a linear, product-based structure. This echoes the core of the third model of practice introduced in Chapter 2 (see pp. 26–27), whereby there is a: drawing together and enmeshing of different disciplines and strands of thought, some of which are borrowed, some of which are produced in the processes of realising artworks. (MacLeod and Holdridge, 2005: 151) This is unlike the approach at any of the other sites, and demonstrates a model of art and design education that is conducive to the risk, doubt and ‘not knowing’ inherent in art and design practice (discussed in Chapter 2). The curriculum at Rensworth prioritises CCS. A discrete lecture programme covering contextualising the field of practice as well as broader critical thinking (models of CCS discussed in Chapter 6) runs throughout the course; while the CCS coordinator oversees this, the entire staff has some input into it. CCS is also delivered in the studio in integrated projects, with the CCS coordinator working collaboratively with studio staff. The CCS coordinator is also present at student crits. This establishes the significance of CCS and enables students to see ‘live’ examples of its integration in the studio, through both teaching staff and site. There is a historical trajectory of dividing ‘thinking’ from ‘making’ and theory from practice (as discussed in Chapter 2). The integration of these elements has long been a concern of art educators: Since ‘artistic’ refers primarily to the act of production and ‘aesthetic’ to that of perception and enjoyment, the absence of a term designating the processes taken together is unfortunate. (Dewey, 1934: 46) Dewey further suggests that the synthesis of these elements can be most effectively understood and realised by the art practitioner; that is, by the individual. This is the focus of this third model of intuitive integration: it is through the individual student that these elements come together. This is similar to the definition of intuition proposed in Chapter 2: that is, the manifestation of a sophisticated and skilled integration of theory and practice, which comes through expertise and practice. In short, this model requires students to integrate intuitively, over time and with experience and skill. There is not always an institutional ideology that fits this model of integration; it is something that some individual students experience (to varying degrees) after the course, irrespective of what is intended or expected by the course staff.

Intuitive integration at Wrickford At Wrickford, integration is perceived as being beyond the course’s control and therefore there is no attempt at curricular integration. This leads to a curriculum

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of tightly bound, separate subjects to which specialist tutors are affiliated. There is evidence of students making sense of the integration of CCS and studio practice (and other aspects of the course) in the second year. However, beyond the discrete CCS provision, first-year students distinguish between the physical making within art practice on the one hand and the ideas, concepts and theories within the field of art and design on the other: It [CCS] has helped us to think about it [art and design] in a bit more depth, but as far as physically my practical work goes, it hasn’t really helped obviously. It’s [CCS is] alright though; it’s good. (First-year student, Wrickford) This is also evident in the following conversation between first-year students at Wrickford: Student 1:

Student 2:

Student 1: Student 2: Student 3: Student 2: Student 3: Student 1:

Interviewer: Student 3:

I don’t particularly like it when teachers say you have to look at artists and theories beforehand [before producing the final piece]. I don’t think you can make rules about that. Yeah. One of the difficult things about art education is that you have to say where all your ideas came from as though it all happens in a specific order. Yeah, back yourself up. Which often leads to you making it up just to get the grade, which is very frustrating. Yeah, definitely. I have my idea and then I have to come up with three other ideas to show development. Yeah, just to show ‘I chose this one’. And then on the next page ‘I chose this one’. Cos when you see professional artists, I’m sure they don’t research other artists or research loads of theories before they start a piece of work – it is just in their heads. But maybe it appears that way because they’ve seen lots of other artists’ work or looked at lots of theories . . .  Yeah, I mean I do think it’s good to have it in there. . . . But to specifically go ‘Oh, before I think about ideas I’ve got to go and see what this artist did or look up this theory’, you know, it’s a little bit too robotic. (Second-year students, Wrickford)

Student artists are often expected to create questions that they then answer in their work. However, it could be argued that the interest resides in not knowing and that the meaning of the work thus unfolds even beyond the point of production (after the work is made) (Boyce and Brighton, 1994). There is an inherent tension

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between this notion that questions unfold after the answers (that is, after the work is created) and the usual assumptions of educational assessment. Variable though it is, CCS is the site in which the tension is highlighted between the epistemology of art and design practice on the one hand and the more linear and rigid Modernist assessment process on the other. The integration of forms of ‘theory’ in student practice emerges beyond the making of the work – and, according to staff across all five sites, beyond the course itself: Most people, you ask them later in life what has been the most important thing that has supported their own work and their own idea about their knowledge and skills and being an artist or a creative person, and they’ll say that they’ve learnt about the historical and contextual aspect of it. It’s very important to your identity and feeds back into everything you do. (Course manager, Wrickford) At Wrickford, the students perceive the course as being in separate parts, and integration takes place within the individual student after they have experienced each of these separate parts. In the visual representations of their courses that the students were asked to produce as a prompt for discussion, one student presented an image (Figure 8.4) of separate subjects (and corresponding teachers) contributing to their work and identity as an artist: I done a mind-map sort of thing because the teachers [the squares] learn the techniques, which is basically circles, and each teacher knows different techniques. So then, you talk to the teachers so you get to know the techniques, and then you get to use the techniques, and you can use them in your own work. The star at the top is me and my work. (Second-year student, Wrickford) There is no explicit mention of CCS in any of the second-year students’ drawings of the course at Wrickford, where there is no discrete CCS provision. All first-year students’ drawings feature a representation of CCS, and it is in year one that CCS is assessed as a discrete unit. When asked to make a visual representation of the Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) course, one first-year student produced visual representations of three key areas: art history (CCS), 3D and drawing, and visual communication. The image (Figure 8.5) is described in the following terms: The main thing is 3D and drawing development, which is that [pointing to the middle of the page]. Art history I do kind of like mainly because it’s a laugh, and seeing stuff and thinking about stuff I wouldn’t see otherwise, cos I wouldn’t bother going to museums and stuff or researching it myself

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if I didn’t have to. And visual communications is right down here in the little dungeon, because I don’t really value expression in my work as much; I prefer it . . . my stuff is more about looking good than the statement or the ‘this is showing anger’, you know, whatever. I’d much rather have it look good. (First-year student, Wrickford)

FIGURE 8.4 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at V Wrickford FE College

FIGURE 8.5 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a first-year student at V Wrickford FE College

FIGURE 8.6 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at V Wrickford FE College

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In contrast to the first-year students, the second-year students at Wrickford suggested that they are integrating elements of CCS and visual communication (framed in Chapter 6 within the model broader critical thinking, which is more akin toVisual Culture than art history). The following passage implies this (and accompanies Figure 8.6): Student:

The visual communication – I realise this year that it did help a bit because it helps you think about your work. I don’t like to be . . . well, for illustration I like to have a brief set, but in a lot of my paintings I like to express concepts so that’s why it helped; it interlinked with my painting unit. They all help with each other, really. In the second year, drawing development and illustration and animation as well. It does help. Interviewer: Is there a reason for illustration in the middle there? Student: Illustration and animation are in the middle because they are my top two ideas for going on to a uni degree. Drawing development is the first year, and that links them together. Art history is sitting on the edge because it is helpful but in what I want to do it’s not incredibly helpful. My skills in these [animation and illustration and IT] are more needed, I guess. Interviewer: It looks like you’ve drawn it all linked together, have you? Student: Well yeah, it’s trying everything to find out what you like, and it all relates together. (Second-year student, Wrickford) The two preceding examples – from a first-year student and a second-year student respectively, at the same institution – demonstrate a significant difference in the ways in which the various components of the course are perceived. The secondyear student perceives the course as cohesive and views its various elements as coming together to inform her practice; in contrast, the first-year student describes the course in a compartmentalised manner. Wrickford provides the strongest evidence of integration at the site of the student; here, integration occurs in the latter parts of the course and potentially beyond. On the surface, Wrickford appears to support a model of learning that Heron critiques, namely the ‘initiation model’ (1989: 78). This model defines academic staff as transmitters of bodies of knowledge who pass the baton of knowledge and culture on to their students. Heron challenges this by placing the student at the centre of the learning process, thus focusing less on a prescribed curriculum that exercises control and more on student agency. Despite the apparent order of the curriculum at Wrickford, however, there is little prescription on how CCS is integrated and realised in individual studio practice. Although the Wrickford students receive a set body of knowledge in CCS, they have relatively more freedom to forge links between the CCS provision and studio practice because there is no set recipe for integration. At Penton, however – where the curriculum appears to be free and loose – the integration of CCS is far more prescriptive and controlled. Although none of the five case study sites practise a person-centred approach to

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assessment as Heron would define it (that is, a programme of self-assessment, peer assessment and collaborative assessment), there is certainly some evidence of this as a starting point for approaching integration.

Intuitive integration at Penton As at Wrickford, second-year students at Penton talk more coherently about the different aspects of the course coinciding (or integrating) than did first-year students. Although these two sites appear to be polarised in terms of first-year CCS provision, the first-year students at both are unanimously unaware of the significance of CCS in their practice, while the second-year students demonstrate an engagement with an informed and more integrated and holistic practice.

FIGURE 8.7 

 isual representation of the EDAD course by a second-year student at V Penton Art and Design College

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Second-year students at Penton, however, identified different aspects of the course and the ways in which these aspects relate to one another in their visual representations. For example, Figure 8.7 demonstrates a series of circular shapes, each containing a core aspect of the course according to the second-year student who produced the image. She describes everything on the course as overlapping and, along with all other second-year students, recognises CCS as distinct and significant within this. Other students within the second-year group interview placed even more emphasis on CCS, using their visual representations as a prompt. One stated: ‘“Historical and contextual” goes around it all; all other parts of the course go inside’; another, that CCS ‘fits underneath all of it [the course], kind of as the foundation’. Such prioritising of CCS was a theme throughout the second-year drawings at Penton, in contrast to first-year drawings, none of which made reference to CCS. The following student conversation, highlighted earlier in Chapter 5, is representative of the shift from first to second year in terms of views on CCS: Interviewer: You are all putting historical and contextual into a prominent position in your drawings. Student 1: Yeah, it’s because I can find out about artists. Student 2: It’s inspiration. Interviewer: Do you think you’d have drawn historical and contextual in a similar way a year ago? Student 2: No!! [Laughs.] Student 1: No way. Interviewer: So what has changed? Student 1: My opinion of art. Student 2: We’ve just kind of matured really. Student 3: We’re more grown up. Student 1: I used to think that what I do is right and that no one else matters, but now I look at other people’s work and I think ‘Wow that is so cool’ and I add to my own. This shift in views is a shift from confusion over how to make sense of CCS within the course to an understanding of its importance and position within the course. In the second year, students have some CCS lectures; they appear to perceive CCS as consisting of a combination of these lectures and independent research. This provides the students with clarity and structure and offers a grounding from which they then make sense of, and develop, their practice: I think the history and the planning and doing all of the research helps you decide what to do, so you feel less, sort of, lost. (Second-year student, Penton)

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Some students at Penton suggested that they would find more focus in a ‘relevant’ or ‘integrated’ CCS than a discrete provision, while others are more drawn to a discrete provision: Student 1: I think the slideshow was a pretty good idea. Student 2: I think we just kind of sat there and kind of mushed. Student 3: She put up like a big slideshow on the wall and like talked through it. That was good. And we just like took notes. Student 4: My mind went numb. (Second-year students, Penton) Although there is evidently diversity across each student group, the broader contextualisation and the discrete lecture theatre delivery appear to allow the students to develop their own integrated and informed practice more autonomously, with scope for this to extend past the immediacy of the EDAD course: I think history and contextual can play quite a big part because sometimes you need to look at artists, to see what style you are going for. You get a better idea of the area [of art and design] you are looking at, what it’s about . . . it helps you understand it better. It gives you a lot of ideas for your work that you can come back to later. (Second-year student, Penton) Intuitive integration as a model is a student-centred approach to the learning process and is conducive to the process of art and design production discussed in Chapter 2: that is, a process that is not necessarily linear and predetermined, but rather one that values ‘not knowing’ and that allows for development beyond the production of the ‘final outcome’. Although it is in keeping with some of the values shared by staff at institutions such as Rensworth and Wrickford, this is inconsistent within a determined and assessment-oriented education system. At Rensworth and Wrickford, EDAD staff members are active as artist practitioners rather than identifying predominantly as educator practitioners (as discussed in Chapter 7). The educational process for Heron (1989) and the artistic process as defined in Chapter 2 share the view that a determined curriculum, with a linear structure and system of assessment, is potentially limiting: An educational process that is so determined cannot have as its outcome a person who is truly self-determining. (Heron, 1989: 80) Likewise, it could be argued that, in order for a student artist to develop as a selfdetermined artist, they require some autonomy in integrating and experiencing CCS. When integration is prescribed and the student does not have the independence to

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forge links at unpredictable points during or beyond the course, there are immediate, assessable results. This prescribed integration appears at Penton to be at the expense of students engaging in a process of developing independent and informed ‘art thought’ (MacLeod and Holdridge, 2005). It is this ‘art thought’ that appears to coincide with informed practice at Rensworth (discussed in the previous section). It could be argued that the integration of forms of theory and practice is as artificial an endeavour as the separation of such fields. Identifying, analysing and making sense of practice through the three forms of theory discussed in Chapter 4 are not necessarily immediate. This is not to say, as Dorn does, that: there is no way one can conceive rationally of what a work of art is while at the same time being engaged in its making . . . some historical or critical judgements must be suspended while a work is in progress. (Dorn, 1999: 32) Rather, it is to argue that theory and practice are in a symbiotic relationship and their relationship grows stronger through practice, with growing expertise and over time. Dorn’s view is not unfamiliar among students; however, it is a limiting view and perpetuates the second model of practice introduced in Chapter 2 (see p. 26).

Starting points for discussing integration The three models proposed here offer two alternative starting points for integration: the curriculum or the individual student. Where integration is understood as located within curriculum design and delivery (see Counelis, 1979; Palmer, 1998), it has the potential to be controlled and coordinated by managers and teachers on the art and design course. Where integration is understood as residing within the individual student (see Dewey, 1902; Campbell, 1969; Fogarty, 1991; Clair and Hough, 1992), it is variable and may not materialise at predictable points (and therefore opens up issues regarding assessment). These two key sites – the individual and the curriculum – reflect the starting points that humanist writers John Heron (1989, 1993) and David Boud (1991, 1996) take in discussing assessment in HE, in which Heron focuses on models of the person and Boud on models of learning. These two models are useful for beginning to consider the integration of CCS, notwithstanding the fact that NDAD courses accommodate both student agency and curriculum structure simultaneously. Social actors respond to the community within which they exist. Indeed, the identities of newcomers (Lave and Wenger, 1991), are often ‘forged, rehearsed and remade’ (Lee and Boud, 2003: 188) in the community. This appears to be what is happening during the EDAD first year: students enter into a community of practice (the EDAD course) and must make the transition from a broad GCSE education to a full-time art education. It is at this point that students on the NDAD course at Penton appear to be ‘legitimate peripheral participators’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991).

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They want to be artists, having lectures in the theatre and the freedom to make exciting work, but they feel like school students; they want to be adults, but they feel like children; they can see that they have the facilities and the space, but they have not yet worked out how to use these as full (or master) practitioners (Lave and Wenger, 1991). As detailed above, most of the students in the EDAD first-year group interviews at Penton, Wrickford, Barrinborough and Hillburton stated that they cannot see the relevance of CCS or that they cannot make sense of what CCS is. The second-year students at each of these sites, however, have a different view of CCS within their practice – particularly at Penton and Wrickford, where the students emphasise its relevance and significance. They are heading towards the centre of the community of practice that is their course, and the drawings produced in the focus groups reflect this. They have an increasing sense of identity that fits into the community at that particular institution, something that Lave and Wenger (1991) would say is essential in moving towards full participation. Penton is a particularly interesting case, because the first-year students there seem to have attempted to jump straight into the role of ‘master practitioner’ (Lave and Wenger, 1991) at the start of the course, before learning how to be a part of that community. With the exception of Rensworth, students at all case study sites appear to be legitimate peripheral participators throughout the first year of the EDAD course, attempting to replace the ‘learner identity’ that was part of their schooling experience. These students have not made the transition from being a full practitioner in the community of practice that was their school experience to being a full practitioner in the EDAD course. Although there is significant development in this area from the first year to the second year, it is only at Rensworth that students appear to be fluently adopting the discourse of art education (and, more specifically, that of the particular EDAD course that they are experiencing) from the first year of study.

Conclusion Key to these three approaches to integration is immediacy versus future manifestation; the former is conducive to a self-referential and determined education system, while the latter calls for an accommodation of ambiguity and unpredictability. Aspects of this ambiguity and unpredictability include the movement of students between and within communities, as well as the notion of multiple and shifting student identities and experiences of art and design. Unsurprisingly, then, the immediacy and order of the first two forms of integration appear to underlie practice at the majority of the case study sites. Intuitive integration locates integration beyond the course, out of the control of tutors and the framework of assessments. The institutions with the highest proportions of practising artists as EDAD tutors (Rensworth and Wrickford) exhibit evidence of this attitude to the integration of CCS. These tutors articulate and celebrate the unpredictable

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nature of the integration of CCS within arts practice and recognise that integration is in process and often manifests beyond the course. They are also aware, however, of syllabus restrictions that render this notion of ‘in process’ difficult to justify. ‘Contextual practice’ is a term discussed in Carson and Silver (2000) to refer to an informed practice that is politically and socially aware. In order to achieve this, it seems that ‘art thought’ (MacLeod and Holdridge, 2005) must coincide with art practice. Rather than requiring immediate, tangible and assessable results, however, it appears more meaningful or valuable to relinquish control and to see the process as both cumulative and rhizomatic, unpredictably surfacing at various points and always developing and in process. This is in contrast to the common assumption that integration ought to be immediate for the sake of both the assessment and the student. In a statement against the study of art history with the ‘historian cum critic cum connoisseur’, Godfrey (1965: 136) states that ‘the student seeks above all what serves his [or her] immediate purpose’. This chapter has demonstrated, however, that such immediacy might not be in the interests of either student empowerment or the most interesting integrative practice. As shown through the data here, such immediacy rarely provides a successful and developed integration of CCS. Through viewing integration as a future goal, or as being ‘under development’, there is more scope for flexibility and difference in CCS. As a CCS coordinator at Rensworth stated: ‘There’s not enough celebration of CCS.’ In order for art education to become more holistic and art practice more informed, the value of CCS should be recognised; further, control over the immediacy of integration must be relinquished and integration should be viewed as an aim or project that manifests in informed future practice. In this sense, it appears preferable that the student is prepared for this during the course but not expected to actually arrive at this point. The goal of integration tends to be one of designed integration with immediate results. Students generally value immediacy in order for the course to be coherent and to achieve a grade that counts towards the qualification, and institutions generally value immediacy in order to meet assessment and results targets. The value of integration as future realisation appears to be inconsistent with the education system within which students and tutors function. However, integration as future realisation appears to be the form of integration that is most authentic or meaningful in terms of both the individual and the field of art and design. ‘Integration’ and ‘non-integration’ appear in art education as multifaceted (as defined by Jacobs, 1989; see Chapter 3) rather than absolutes (as defined by Beane, 1997; see Chapter 3). The five case study examples suggest that the forms of integration currently practised are not effectively addressing the aforementioned issues and problems to which a non-integrated curriculum gives rise. There is an assumption in art education discourse and practice that non-integrated approaches are outmoded

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and belong to mid-century ideals of art education – ideals that retain rigid subject boundaries – whereas an integrated curriculum that merges CCS with studio practice is more progressive. This chapter has demonstrated that, when integration is understood as being in process within the individual student – that is, as intuitive integration – there is scope to design a curriculum that includes discrete elements that are open for synthesis. Although outcomes may not be predictable, this empowers students to form sophisticated connections that manifest in ‘intuitive’ practice.

Notes 1 For detail on gathering the data and research methods, see Chapter 4. 2 For more detail on this, see Chapter 1. 3 Email response from the Edexcel ‘Ask the Expert’ service, 29 January 2010. 4 See Chapter 5. 5 These are art historical terms and suggest a Formalist analysis.There are lists of terms such as composition, shape/form, colour/tone and line; with each of these terms there is a series of words – such as asymmetrical, repetitive, static, abstract and figurative, under ‘composition’ – that the students can use to describe works. This is very painting-focused.

References Badley, K. (2009) ‘Resisting curriculum integration: do good fences make good neighbors?’, Integrative Studies, 27: 113–37. Beane, J. A. (1997) Curriculum Integration: Designing the Core of Democratic Education. New York: Teachers College Press. Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Boud, D., Keogh, R. and Walker, D. (1996) ‘Promoting reflection in learning: a model’, in Edwards, R., Hanson, A. and Raggatt, P. (eds), Boundaries of Adult Learning. New York: Routledge. Boyce, S. and Brighton, A. (1994) ‘Art education and the scrutineers’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications, pp. 34–8. Carson, J. and Silver, S. (2000) Out of the Bubble. London: The London Institute. Dewey, J. (1902) The Child and the Curriculum. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Dewey, J. (1934) Art as Experience. New York: Putnam. Dorn, C. (1999) Mind in Art: Cognitive Foundations in Art Education. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Fogarty, R. (1991) The Mindful School: How to Integrate the Curricula. Palatine, IL: Skylight Publishing. Godfrey, F. (1965) ‘Art history in art schools’, The Burlington Magazine, 107(744) (March): 136–9. Heron, J. (1989) The Facilitator’s Handbook. London: Kogan Page. Heron, J. (1993) Group Facilitation. London: Kogan Page. Jacobs, H. H. (1989) Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Lee, A. and Boud, D. (2003) ‘Writing groups, change and academic identity: research development as local practice’, Studies in Higher Education, 28(2): 187–200. MacLeod, K. and Holdridge, L. (2005) ‘Related objects of thought: art and thought, theory and practice’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 143–53. Pring, R. (1971) ‘Curriculum integration’, Proceedings of the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain, 5(2): 170–200.

9 CONCLUDING CONSIDERATIONS AND RECOMMENDATIONS

Range of practices in CCS While CCS has a firm place within art and design education, its identity and practice are unstable and in flux across institutions and over time. Variety is thus a key characteristic of CCS and is born of a combination of ‘antecedent subject subculture [or subcultures]’ (Goodson and Mangan, 1995), institutional interpretations of CCS and its role within art and design education, and staff socialisation and disposition. This variation is at times a conscious flexibility on the part of designers and deliverers of the curriculum, and at other times the result of confused and multiple subject and staff identities. Although subject histories are significant, in-house structures and resources – often affected by subject histories and constructions of subject identity – inevitably engender the variation in CCS provision across sites. For example, three members of staff deliver the whole Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) course at Barrinborough, which is a sixth-form college that delivers few other arts qualifications; as such, there is limited resource there for a specialist CCS tutor. This is in contrast to Penton’s CCS team and coordinator and Rensworth’s CCS coordinator; both of these institutions are specialist arts colleges that deliver higher education (HE) qualifications and therefore have a wider arts provision than Barrinborough. In these larger and more specialised arts institutions, CCS appears to be multidisciplinary and is framed as a separate transdisciplinary subject, which increasingly takes on aspects of the field of Visual Culture: an autonomous subject field with an increasing profile (Duncum, 2002). ‘Visual Culture’ is widely taught as ‘CCS’ in the university sector, but the forms of CCS clustered under broader critical thinking (see Chapter 7) are less prevalent at pre-degree level (for example on the EDAD course). However, post-compulsory

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education at pre-degree level is increasingly shifting from a history of art to a Visual Culture provision, as the CCS tutor at Wrickford suggests: I think everything is probably leaning more towards Visual Culture than art history. . . . Already it [the syllabus] has shifted from being Historical and Contextual Studies to Contextual Studies, so they [the awarding body] are obviously trying to move away from this ‘historical’ thing and more towards ways you can gain inspiration from different mediums and different ideas, theories, broader Visual Culture. I’m thinking in a couple of years I’ll adapt it so there is less art history and a bit more studying aspects of Visual Culture . . . and [that’s] probably more interesting for them.

Forces that drive CCS The ‘Discourse and debate’ chapters (Chapters 1 to 3) contextualised approaches to CCS design and its integration into art and design education by exploring subject identities, constructions of theory/practice and meanings of integration. Against this backdrop, the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters (Chapters 4 to 7) drew upon current practice to highlight and examine themes that underpin and drive CCS design and integration. These themes included learning cultures, using Bernstein to characterise key aspects and features at each site (Chapter 5), form and content, and staff dispositions and subject cultures. These findings set the context for and approach to integration at each site, thereby laying the foundations for the possibility of integrating CCS. Finally, the ‘Proposals and recommendations’ chapters (Chapters 8 and 9) demonstrate the ways in which the integration of CCS into art and design education can be approached in the context of the previous chapters. The ‘form’ of CCS (discussed in Chapter 6) is key in driving its design across sites, particularly in terms of, first, the lecture theatre site and its tight transmission of knowledge (or ‘strong framing’, in Bernstein’s [1971] terms), and, second, the written essay assessment. Form is also significant in courses that appear to reject the lecture theatre and essay conventions of CCS’s ‘antecedent subject culture’; at Penton, CCS is designed into the curriculum, and its integrated form (in terms of pedagogy and transmission of knowledge, curriculum structure and learning site) is tightly controlled under the supervision of the course manager. Form drives the design and curriculum content of CCS and is a point of friction between the EDAD team and the CCS team in that both teams have opposing approaches to the ideal form of CCS. As Goodson (1998: 7) suggests, ‘the battle over the content of the curriculum while often more visible, is in many senses less important than the control over the underlying forms’. At pre-degree level, CCS provision is often driven by the preparation of students for ‘the next level’. As Goodson (1995 [1988]) suggests, control in curriculum definition is largely accountable to universities, and staff members across Rensworth and Hillburton highlight the importance of CCS in preparing students for studying art and design at university. Staff members assume that universities

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want the lecture theatre setting and a chronology of art history, delivered as contextualising the field of practice lectures (see Chapter 6). It is predominantly broader critical thinking (see Chapter 6) that is delivered at HE institutions as CCS; as such, skills in critical thinking and analysis are prioritised more at that level. In other cases, CCS is designed to prepare students for in-house courses. For example, at Barrinborough and Penton, students experience designed integration (see Chapter 8) in preparation for the in-house Foundation course (which is termed at Barrinborough ‘the third year’ after the two-year EDAD); in the case of Penton, they experience in-house Foundation Degree courses in art and design. On these higher-level courses, CCS is delivered more discretely as contextualising the field of practice or broader critical thinking. The destination routes of students at each site are part of the learning culture, significantly impacting upon the design of CCS and the opportunities available to students. There is a constructed difference in status between formal written language and codified knowledge of ‘academic’ subjects on the one hand, and visual languages and tacit knowledges of ‘creative’ subjects on the other – a divide that is supported by education policy at compulsory education level (as detailed in the Introduction). This toxic division in the valuing of subjects is part of a long trajectory (covered in Chapters 1 and 2), particularly in relation to the Coldstream reforms of the 1960s (discussed in Chapter 1) and the constructed theory/practice divide. One response to the apparent threat of ‘academic drift’ from the ‘corporate raider’ (Biggs, 2005) is for art and design to reinstate the Romantic myths that disassociate it from other subjects and imbue it with an identity and language system that transcend definition. This has the potential to further widen the divide and to alienate art and design from the education system, shrouding it in an air of mystery. As suggested in Chapter 2, this is unhelpful. However, this is not to say that there is no difference between language systems. The ideal balance is to simultaneously recognise the idiosyncrasies of different language systems and the fact that art and design has a teachable skill set that is learnable, as with other languages.

Concepts and practices of integration Where the approach of intuitive integration (see Chapter 8) is taken within an art and design course, there are possibilities to design CCS in a way that facilitates some of the most interesting integrative work within student practice. There are complexities in this model, in that it requires practices of ‘the unknown’ and articulations of tacit knowledges (detailed in Chapter 2); it also requires understanding that the most interesting integrative work manifests through practice, skills and experience rather than design. The point (and form) of assessment will not reflect the complex skills and tacit knowledge (Polanyi, 1969) expected in the more developed integrated practice of most students, as this may not occur at a predictable stage. The model of intuitive integration supports specialist CCS teaching staff and the discrete classification of subjects – apparently in keeping with Bernstein’s (1971) collection code rather than integrated code – within an art and design course. The

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course design that supports such a model may appear on the surface to be an outmoded separate-subject approach. For example, at Wrickford, the relatively tightly framed CCS curriculum would appear to support a particular pedagogy: a model of teaching and learning that many have criticised on the grounds that it promotes passivity among learners and pays inadequate attention to constructivist concepts or the general tenets of student-centred learning. Ramsden (2003) calls this model ‘teaching as telling or transmission’ and contrasts it with both ‘teaching as organizing student activity’ and ‘teaching as making learning possible’, arguing that these three ‘theories’ exist in a progressive, hierarchical arrangement. Heron (1989: 90) points to an ‘initiation model’ that defines academic staff as transmitters of bodies of knowledge, arguing that ‘[a]n educational process that is so determined cannot have as its outcome a person who is truly self-determining’. In contrast, Penton’s approach might superficially be seen as being highly student-centred because it gives the student’s exploration, discovery and development pride of place in projects that incorporate the elements of CCS that they need. However, on closer examination, both of these appearances are deceptive. The structured CCS provision at Wrickford is not accompanied by a prescriptive view of how knowledge and understanding of CCS are to be incorporated into individual studio practice. It can be argued that this lack of prescription is itself productive, giving students a repertoire of resources on which they can draw as they mature in their development. At Penton, while the curriculum appears to be sufficiently loosely organised to allow freedom of exploration by students (the way in which the integration of CCS is conceived), the activities designed to ensure this are in fact highly prescriptive and controlled. These two cases seem to differ not only in how CCS and its integration are conceived but also in how much prescription is deemed appropriate for a particular group of students. Ironically, the more ‘progressive’ of the two examples tries to ‘leave less to chance’, but in doing so removes some of the means by which students can engage in their own sense making. There are strong overlaps here with debates about ‘learning outcomes’ and whether they have negative consequences (see James, 2005; Hussey and Smith, 2002, 2003). As we have seen, the attempt to ‘engineer’ integration in the first year at Penton has unintended consequences. The students describe feeling confused and at times disengaged from the course and from their own practice, in which aspects of the course are ‘lost’. By contrast, at Wrickford (and to some extent in the second year at Penton), a different, more authentic form of integration seems evident. Wrickford staff members see integration as something that is important but over which they do not have much control; this is in keeping with their shared dispositional identity as ‘artist practitioners who teach’ (rather than ‘art educators’). Instead of attempting to ensure that some form of integration happens via the structures of the curriculum, they expect integration to become a feature of student engagement. This is achieved by providing discrete curriculum elements that offer students building blocks and the conditions required for making their own meaningful connections. It could be argued that these arrangements provide a form of art practice or CCS integration that is closely affiliated with the process of art and

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design production itself, in that they are not necessarily linear and predetermined but rather value ‘not knowing’ and a process of development: qualities that are often valued as highly as the production of the ‘final outcome’. It could further be argued that, in order for a student artist to develop as a self-determined artist, they require some autonomy in integrating and experiencing CCS; the absence of such autonomy is likely to hinder the process of developing independent and informed ‘art thought’ (MacLeod and Holdridge, 2005). While it is difficult to weigh up whether students are better equipped by one or the other of these courses, it is interesting to compare them in terms of progression and opportunities for progression. At Penton, the majority of Extended Diploma (ED) students progress to study on Foundation Degrees or BA (Hons) Degree courses, predominantly within the institution itself. In contrast, while less than half of the students at Wrickford progressed to HE, they did so at a range of institutions, and preparation for this was a major consideration: ‘[There is a] necessity to prepare students for academic writing and essay assessment in case they are going to apply to higher education’ (CCS tutor, Wrickford). Although this cannot be taken as evidence that one site is better than the other, it does suggest a relationship between, on the one hand, the nature of teaching, learning and assessment, and, on the other, the position and needs of the institution. It may also suggest that curricular and pedagogic practices at Wrickford are informed by a more outward-looking orientation.

Achieving integrated CCS There is a common view among EDAD staff across the five case study sites introduced in Chapter 5, that the planned integration of CCS increases the accessibility of some important knowledge and understanding for students. At the same time, CCS remains a ‘tricky subject’ that presents staff and students with a series of difficulties regarding management, assessment and the relationship that it might have to the more practical elements of the EDAD. Across the institutions, ‘separate’ CCS lessons are still prevalent and the essay format is widely used in the assessment of CCS. This can be perceived – as it is at Wrickford – as being useful in preparing students for HE and in ensuring that CCS is clearly identified and manageable. Yet, as we saw earlier, there is strong encouragement to do more to ‘integrate’ CCS by making it part of each practical project, as well as to avoid the ‘CCS essay’. While this encouragement may be motivated by good intentions (and perhaps even by certain theoretical views of learning and teaching), my analysis suggests that it runs the risk of promoting avoidance or delay in the more exciting and productive integrative moments that I would argue are characteristic of the most worthwhile art and design education. In light of this, course teams might find it useful to reflect on the model of integration implied by their current practice and the potential implications of retaining or changing aspects of that practice. Is the approach they adopt determined by subject discipline identities, or ‘turf wars’, rather than by a conception of the developing artist? There are strong parallels here with debates about interdisciplinarity in research (for example, Youngblood,

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2007). Do the arrangements place too heavy a burden on a curriculum design and organisation that are expected to ‘deliver’ piecemeal examples of integration? Are the ‘learning outcomes’ or the needs of assessment regimes over-determining the outcomes of learning? Are students being equipped to make their own links between CCS and their developing practice? On balance, the model of intuitive integration, in which CCS is distinct and yet embedded, can provide students with the tools and elements they need to independently develop a critical, informed and independent practice.

Education identities A salient point that runs through this book is the apparent tension between the predictability and product-based drive of the education system – including audit, accountability and management – and the identity and aims of the subject of art and design. The codified Modernist conceptions of the former are in conflict with the ambitions of the latter; it is in this fracture between education and art and design that the potential for a new field is created.This coincides with the education practitioner having a bad name in art and design education discourse, and has been framed as a threat to the subject in much the same way as ‘theory’ and CCS. This view was prevalent throughout the 1990s, when art and design subjects were absorbed into universities;Williams (1994: 23–6) proposes that ‘the practitioner, once a ubiquitous presence in art and design, is now a rarity’, while Painter (in Hetherington, 1994: 23) suggests that ‘some educationalists now see the practitioners as inept, exclusive, irresponsible – even dangerous – as distributors of knowledge’. These divisions and threats continue to exist in some art and design courses; however, there are useful cases of these identities intersecting, such as at Rensworth (as detailed in Chapter 7). In the case of Rensworth, staff members retain their individual subject specialisms and associations (in the field of either studio practice or CCS) yet teach across both the lecture theatre and the studio sites, at times collaboratively. As Madoff (2009: 6) suggests, in an ideal art and design course, ‘[i]nstructors either need to have access to both messy studios and clean, wired classroom spaces, or there need to be coteaching teams’. Rensworth is modelled on this idea of discrete yet collaborating teams; among the models cited in this book, it is the closest to intuitive integration in current practice. In this model, not only is CCS set up for intuitive integration but the language of education also intersects with the language of art and design, producing a third language (or dialect) that can be identified as art education. This third language system has some internal frictions; however, it can be implemented well – as demonstrated at Rensworth.

Pedagogy–criticality–intuition De Duve (1994) provided a framework for Chapter 1 in terms of triads (‘talent-metier-imitation’, ‘creativity-medium-invention’, and ‘attitude-practicedeconstruction’) that mark developments in art education. I propose a fourth and

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current triad for art education in light of the discussions presented here: pedagogy– criticality–intuition. Rather than these terms existing in isolation, the broad field of art and design ideally underpins each aspect of the triad. In pedagogy, the artist educator and the process of art teaching are to the fore, evoking debate on the notion and identity of the educationalist and the artist practitioner (detailed in Chapter 7) and on the ideal intersection of these identities, as demonstrated at Rensworth. Pedagogy also reflects attention paid to uniform teaching standards, assessment and qualifications throughout the education system (detailed in Chapter 1), including the increasing emphasis on teaching qualifications at post-compulsory level. The second position in the triad, criticality, reflects the increasing provision of broader critical thinking as CCS (see Chapter 6) and more critical approaches to both ‘theory’ and ‘practice’, including the rethinking of thinking detailed in Chapter 2. It is part of the educational goal of ‘deep learning’ that Rebecca Kill (2004) describes in relation to writing in art and design and CCS: ‘an engagement, both for students and staff, in critical thinking, as it is this paradigmatic destabilisation that underpins deep learning’. The third position, intuition, refers to the definition proposed in Chapter 2 and the model of intuitive integration in Chapter 8. Intuition here makes reference to the ways in which students develop skills in synthesising theory and practice, in navigating the various elements of their course, and in building towards a creative critical integrative practice that draws upon their course (and other) experiences and taught skills. This concept of intuition also draws upon the notion of ‘navigation’ that Birnbaum uses in proposing the next De Duvian triad as ‘reflection–navigation– creation’ (Birnbaum, 2009: 244), where it accounts for the ways in which students autonomously navigate information and research (in the context of new technologies, where there is an abundance of material).

Final thoughts: intuitive integration The academic/vocational debate in art and design education has been prevalent since the Coldstream Report. Rather than smoothing out the terrain, the debates covered in this book present further evidence of its messiness. If one considers that knowledge is formed and practised within a learning culture, whereby ‘knowledge is not in individuals, it’s in the community’ (Rojas-Drummond and Mercer, 2003: 100), it is through the language of the community that we learn how to speak in order to participate fully (Lave and Wenger, 1991). When CCS and studio practice are tightly classified and/or framed as two distinct communities, students are expected to occupy these two fields simultaneously, negotiating the disparate languages and membership codes of each. As discussed in the model of intuitive integration (Chapter 8), the individual is therefore the site in which change takes place (Weedon, 1987). When integration is understood as a goal or process that continues beyond the course, art and design education expands beyond the immediacy of assessment and accountability, and this gives rise to empowered students engaged in critical, creative, integrative practice.

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At best, the model of intuitive integration empowers the student to engage substantially with their own practice in more profound ways than might be the case when integration is instigated by the curriculum and evaluated immediately. However, the problem with this approach is that it does not guarantee that all students will eventually (at some point within or beyond the course) make sense of CCS in relation to their own practice. At worst, therefore, the student group is polarised into two fields: those who make sense of CCS in relation to their practice (that is, those who are engaging in a critical practice) and those who are unable to make these links between CCS and the studio (rendering their practice uninformed or uncritical). That said, there is evidence across all courses in this study that students at least begin to ‘integrate’ elements of CCS in their understanding of their own practice towards the end of the course. As a precaution against this potential disparity and in light of the ‘Models, types and tensions’ chapters on current practice, a useful model for the delivery of CCS would be one that is most closely aligned to that at Rensworth. If intuitive integration is the approach taken, integration resides within the individual student; it is in process and will materialise in practice at unpredictable points. With this approach, it is important that the student has developed the tools to engage with a critical practice so that they can independently make sense of, or integrate, the forms of discrete aspects of their course and subject. In the first year of study, an integrated or subject-specific CCS (subject-specific might mean tailored to the student’s individual programme – such as photography, graphics, fine art, textiles, and so on – or, even more specifically, tailored to topics covered in studio briefs) provides students with an exemplar of critical practice in action whereby they are provided with live examples of the symbiotic relationship between CCS and the studio; it is an inversion of Jacobs’ (1989) ‘solid grounding’ approach (detailed in Chapter 3). It then follows in the second year that students experience a broader, discrete programme, covering themes and contexts beyond their immediate practice. Within the first and second years of study, CCS and studio staff might work in collaboration at times. One way in which this could occur is in the studio crit, in which CCS staff members could be involved along with studio staff; studio staff might also have an input into a CCS lecture programme (as demonstrated at Rensworth). If the course is longer than two years, it could end with students working independently and reflexively alongside some discrete provision, but with the aim of ‘practising’ integration and ultimately arriving at intuitive integration. This structure potentially enables students to develop critical thinking in direct relation to studio practice in the first year, equipping them with the tools to apply and access theory more independently in the second year of study. This approach would resemble a studio-based first year, in which theory is explored through practice in the form of theory for realisation and contextualising the field of practice. The second year would broaden the learning contexts (including the lecture theatre, for example), and practice would be explored through theory in the form of contextualising the field of practice or broader critical thinking.

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There is value in the difference between CCS and studio practice; it is this difference that gives rise to the possibility of producing the most interesting integrative practices and empowered students, through the intuitive integration approach. This approach involves establishing elements in the course that appear to be discrete, and demonstrating and discussing what it means to integrate and to work ‘intuitively’. Staff members might work together to achieve these aims, for example through studio crits that involve both CCS staff and studio staff. This provides a starting point for students to experience these collaborations in action in relation to their own work. There is also scope for work to be done within CCS itself in order to reach towards the aim of intuitive integration. Underlying the intuitive integration approach detailed in Chapter 8 is the recognition that ‘intuition’ is part of the rigour of art and design (rather than what makes it a ‘soft subject’). This is an important message both to students within art and design courses and to those working outside art and design. It is ‘intuition’ – using the definition I propose – that contributes to the integrity of art and design. It is by integrating ‘theory’, in its multiple manifestations, and practice that this materialises. The themes that inform this notion of integration include knowledge hierarchies, learning cultures and the empowerment of students. These issues are located at the intersection of the field of art and design and the field of education (as discussed in Chapter 7) – the space from which this book is written. This space and the issues discussed here are not only a staff concern but also relevant for students reflecting on the ‘art student’ experience, as well as for students making sense of their own working practices (including the tacit knowledges within them). I propose that the next step is to consider integrating these themes, including the intersection of education and art and design, of art theory and pedagogical theory, of artist and educator, into provision in art and design courses. These themes, within a broader critical thinking programme that has an impact throughout the course, would bring some of these issues to the fore in art and design students’ approaches to their own practice. The next step, then, is to turn attention to CCS content that helps support in students a ‘knowing’ practice of intuitive integration.

References Bernstein, B. (1971) ‘On the classification and framing of educational knowledge’, in Young, M., Knowledge and Control. London: Macmillan, pp. 47–69. Biggs, I. and Wood, A. (2005) ‘Creative practices and the “stigma of the therapeutic”: an issue for postgraduate pedagogy?’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge, pp. 117–31. Birnbaum, D. (2009) ‘Teaching art: Adorno and the devil’, in Madoff, S. H. (ed.), Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, pp. 231–46. De Duve, T. (1994) ‘When form has become attitude – and beyond’, in De Ville, N. and Foster, S. (eds), The Artist and the Academy: Issues in Fine Art Education and the Wider Cultural Context. Southampton: John Hansard Gallery, pp. 23–40. Duncum, P. (2002) ‘Visual culture art education: why, what and how’, International Journal of Art & Design Education, 21(1): 14–23.

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Goodson, I. (1995 [1988]) The Making of Curriculum: Collected Essays. London: The Falmer Press. Goodson, I. and Mangan, J. (1995) ‘Subject cultures and the introduction of classroom computers’, British Educational Research Journal, 21(5): 613–28. Goodson, I., Anstead, C. J. and Mangan, J. M. (1998) Subject Knowledge: Readings for the Study of School Subjects. London: The Falmer Press. Heron, J. (1989) The Facilitator’s Handbook. London: Kogan Page. Hetherington, P. (ed.) (1994) Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications. Hussey, T. and Smith, P. (2002) ‘The trouble with learning outcomes’, Active Learning in Higher Education, 3(3): 220–33. Hussey, T. and Smith, P. (2003) ‘The uses of learning outcomes’, Teaching in Higher Education, 8(3): 357–68. Jacobs, H. H. (1989) Interdisciplinary Curriculum: Design and Implementation. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development. James, D. (2005) ‘Importance and impotence? Learning, outcomes and research in further education’, The Curriculum Journal, 16(1): 83–96. Kill, R., (2004) Thinking about Writing, Writing Purposefully in Art & Design. Higher Education Funding Council for England, Fund for the Development of Teaching and Learning, Phase 4 Project. Available at: http://writing-pad.org (accessed September 2015). Lave, E. and Wenger, J. (1991) Situated Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MacLeod, K. and Holdridge, L. (2005) ‘Related objects of thought: art and thought, theory and practice’, in Miles, M. (ed.), Innovations in Art and Design. New Practices – New Pedagogies: A Reader. Abingdon and New York: Routledge. pp. 143–53. Madoff, S. H. (ed.) (2009) Art School (Propositions for the 21st Century). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Polanyi, M. (1969) Knowing and Being. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Ramsden, P. (2003) Learning to Teach in Higher Education, 2nd edition. Abingdon: Psychology Press. Rojas-Drummond, S. M. and Mercer, N. (2003) ‘Scaffolding the development of effective collaboration and learning’, International Journal of Educational Research, 39: 99–111. Weedon, C. (ed.) (1987) Feminist Practice and Poststructuralist Theory. London: Blackwell. Williams, G. (1994) ‘The practitioner, once a ubiquitous presence in art and design, is now a rarity: a history of the blooming and decline of the species’, in Hetherington, P. (ed.), Artists in the 1990s: Their Education and Values. London: Tate Gallery Publications. Youngblood, D. (2007) ‘Interdisciplinary studies and the bridging disciplines: a matter of process’, Journal of Research Practice, 3(2): 1–8. Available at: http://www.jrp.icaap.org/ index.php/jrp/article/view/104/101 (accessed 10 July 2014).

INDEX

A-levels xxi, 58 academic corporate raider 25, 117–18 academic drift 23, 25, 155 Academic Model of art education 4–6 academic/non-academic or vocational binary xviii, 23, 159 academicisation 25 Ackerman, P.L. 47, 49 Alberti, L.B. 5 antecedent subject subcultures 93, 105–6, 109, 110–12 approaches to integrating CCS xxiv, 129–52; designed integration xxiv, 75, 87, 129, 131–4, 149, 150; facilitated integration xxiv, 129–30, 134–6, 149; intuitive integration see intuitive integration; starting points 148–9 art education: early to mid-twentiethcentury 6–8; government policy xvi–xxii; mid-twentieth-century 8–12; nineteenth century 4-6 Art Foundation (Foundation Diploma) course xx–xxi, 6, 58 art history 10–11 Art Party, The xix artist practitioners 113–16, 147 artistically rooted intelligence 30–1 assessment 110, 111–12, 130–1; by essay 102–6, 130, 157; case studies 68, 81, 82, 84 assisted integration 134–6 Association of Art Historians (AAH) 24–5 attainment targets 13–14, 18–19

attitude–practice–deconstruction 8, 9 autonomy 147–8, 157 BA (Hons) Art and Design 10, 12 ‘Bacc for the Future’ campaign xvii Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) 12 Barrinborough (Sixth Form College) 59, 60, 79–83, 86, 88, 153; content-driven CCS 102; designed integration 131–3; disintegration 82–3, 87; form-driven CCS 100, 101; organisation of CCS 79–80; staff identities 116–17; staff perceptions 80–1; student perceptions 81–2 Bauhaus Model of art education 6–8 Beane, J.A. 42, 43–5, 47, 50, 51, 134 Bernstein, B. xvi, 40, 64, 65–7, 99 Biggs, I. 117–18 Black Mountain College 8 Bob and Roberta Smith xix Bologna Declaration xx Boud, D. 148 Bourdieu, P. 29, 106, 115 Brill, P. (Bob and Roberta Smith) xix broader critical thinking xxiii, 91–6, 155, 159, 160 Bruner, J. 13, 41, 119 BTEC Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) xiv, xv, 57–8, 130–1 Butler, J. 29 case studies xxiii, 64–89; Barrinborough 79–83; Bernsteinian framework for

164 Index

analysis 65–7; classification and framing 64, 66–7, 86–7, 91, 99; fieldwork 60–2; Hillburton 83–6; organisation of CCS 67–8, 72, 76–7, 79–80, 83; Penton 71–5; Rensworth 75–9; selection 58–60; staff perceptions 68–70, 72–3, 77–8, 80–1, 84–5; student perceptions 70–1, 74–5, 78–9, 81–2, 85; Wrickford 67–71; see also under individual case study sites classification 64, 66–7, 86–7, 91; see also content codes: collection and integrated codes 65–7, 86–7; in studio and lecture theatre contexts 97–8 codified knowledge 28–9, 30, 41–2 Coldstream reforms xxi, 3, 12, 15, 18, 24 Coldstream Reports 3, 8, 15 Cole, H. 6 collaboration as integration 79 collection code 65–7, 86–7 Common Core State Standards (CCSS) xix common values 121 communities of practice 22, 111, 115, 119, 148–9; fractured communities 119–21 compartmentalisation 45 complementary discipline units 46 complementary studies 10–12, 14 Complete Programme 45 Conceptual Art 8 content 46, 90–1, 96–7, 101–6, 154; driving the design of CCS 101–2; form and issue of writing 102–6 contextual practice 150 contextualising the field of practice xxiii, 91–6, 155, 160 continuum: of CCS xxiii, 65, 86–8; options for integration 45–7 conventions 97–8 Courtauld Institute 10 creativity–medium–invention 6–7, 9 Critical and Contextual Studies (CCS) xiii, xxi–xxii, 3–21; achieving integrated CCS 157–8; birth of (mid-twentieth century) 8–12; contemporary concerns 15–17; content-driven design 101–2; continuum xxiii, 65, 86–8; defining and locating the subject 13–15; forces driving 154–5; form-driven design 99–101; organisation of 67–8, 72, 76–7, 79–80, 83; range of practices in 153–4 critical theory 15 critical turn 8–9 criticality 158–9 cultural studies 15

curriculum: design 38–9, 43, 44–5; integration located in 131–4, 148–9; linear curriculum structures 47–9; National Curriculum 13–14, 18–19, 36, 110 David, J.-L. 4–5 De Duve, T. 4, 5–6, 7, 8, 9, 17, 158 Department for Education (DfE) xviii–xix depersonalisation 104–5 designed integration xxiv, 129, 149, 150; Penton 75, 87, 131–4 Dewey, J. 13, 26–7, 139 differentiation 51 Diploma in Art and Design (DipAD) 7, 10–11 discipline-based art education (DBAE) 13, 14, 37–8 discipline-based content design 45, 46 disciplines: defining discipline fields 49–51; structure within the subject 39–40 discourse: contextualising the interest in education 36–40; theory/practice divide 23–5 discrete CCS 86–8 disintegration 82–3, 87 dispersed CCS 86–8 dispositions, staff 69, 122 Dorn, C. 148 Dunnigan, J. 30 EBacc and the Cultural Learning Alliance xvii École des Beaux Arts 4 Edexcel 58, 62, 111; EDAD syllabus 130–1 education practitioners 113, 116–18 educational turn 17 Eisner, E. 25, 29, 30–1 Enactive mode 41 English Baccalaureate (EBacc) xvii–xix epistemological dilemma 45 Equipping our Teachers for the Future professionalisation agenda 117 essay, assessment by 102–6, 130, 157 Europe 4–5, 6–7 European Union (EU) xx experience 43 explicit knowledge 28–9, 30, 41–2 Extended Diploma in Art and Design (EDAD) xiv, xv, 57–8, 130–1 facilitated integration xxiv, 129–30, 134–6, 149 Field, D. 9, 13

Index  165

field of practice 119 fields, defining 49–51 fieldwork 60–2 flexible purposing 26–8 Flyvbjerg, B. 59, 61 form 46, 90–1, 96–106, 154; driving the design of CCS 99–101; and issue of writing 102–6; site as 97–8 Foundation course (Diploma in Art and Design) xx–xxi, 6, 7, 10–11, 58 four domains 13 fragmented communities 119–21 framing 64, 66–7, 86–7, 91, 99; see also form French Academy 4 future manifestation 149–50 GCSEs xviii, 58 gender performance and performativity 29 General National Vocational Qualification (GNVQ) 18 general studies 7 genuine integration 42, 43–5, 50 ‘Goals 2000’ 36 Goldsmiths College, University of London xiv, 24 Gombrich, E.H. 7, 10 Goodson, I. xvi, 18, 97 Gove, M. xix, 38–9 government policy xvi–xxii Greenberg, C. 96 Gropius, W. 6 group interviews 61 Henley, D. xvii Heron, J. 144–5, 147, 148, 156 Hetherington, P. 114 higher education (HE) xvi–xvii, xix–xx, 12, 94, 154–5 Hillburton (FE College) 60, 83–6, 88; content-driven CCS 101–2; facilitated integration 135–6; models of theory 92; organisation of CCS 83; prompted integration 86; staff perceptions 84–5; student perceptions 85 Hiller, S. 118 Hirst, P.H. 40–1 history of education 18 Holdridge, L. 139 Hornsey College 11 Hulks, D. 123 Iconic mode 41 ideal types of CCS xxiii, 65, 66, 88; models of theory and 95–6; site as form 97–8; see also lecture theatre, studio

imitation 4–6 immediacy 149–50 Independent Review of the Curriculum 38 industrial culture 25 initiation model 144, 156 Institute of Contemporary Arts (ICA) 25 integrated code 65–7, 86–7 integrated day model 47 integration xxii, 35–53; achieving integrated CCS 157–8; approaches to see approaches to integrating CCS; concepts and practices of 155–7; discourse and practice 36–40; emergent issues 49–51; linear curriculum structures and solid grounding 47–9; as a philosophy 36, 42–7; sociological, philosophical and psychological perspectives 40–2; as a technique 36, 42–7 interdisciplinarity 9, 46–7 interviews 60–1 intuition 31–2, 139, 161; as knowledge 30–1; pedagogy–criticality–intuition 158–9 intuitive integration xxiv, 130, 136–48, 149–50, 151, 158, 159–61; concepts and practices 155–7; at Penton 145–8, 156–7; at Rensworth 137–9; at Wrickford 137, 139–45, 156–7 ‘investigating and making’ attainment target 13, 18–19 Itten, J. xx–xxi, 6 Jacobs, H.H. 43, 45–7, 48 Kandinsky, W. 7 Katz, A. 31 Klee, P. 7 knowledge 27–31; classification of 39–40; codified/explicit 28–9, 30, 41–2; integration of 43, 44; intuition as 30–1; local 116; sociological, philosophical and psychological perspectives 40–2; tacit 28–9, 30, 42, 110, 155 ‘knowledge, skills and understanding’ attainment target 19 ‘knowledge and understanding’ attainment target 13, 14, 18–19 Kocher, A. 8 language systems 155 learning cultures xviii, 22, 65, 66, 154; continuum of CCS xxiii, 65, 86–8; see also case studies, lecture theatre, studio

166 Index

lecture theatre 22, 28, 65, 66, 87, 88; form 97–8, 106; models of theory, status and 95–6 legitimate peripheral participators 148–9 linear curriculum structures 47–9 local knowledge 116 MacLeod, K. 139 marketisation of education xix–xx medium 6–8 mental/manual divide 23 métier 5–6 Modernism 96–7 Moore, H. 105 National Core Arts Standards xix National Course of Instruction 6 National Curriculum 13–14, 18–19, 36, 110 National Diploma in Art and Design (NDAD) 46, 48 National Diploma in Design (NDD) 10 National Qualifications Framework (NQF) xv, 58 National Society for Art Education (NSAE, later NSEAD) 13 National Society for Education in Art and Design (NSEAD) xvii natural integration 71, 86 navigation 159 Newsom Report 39–40 Newton, T. xix No Child Left Behind (NCLB) Act xix Norwood Report 121 not knowing 27–8, 31 organisation of CCS 67–8, 72, 76–7, 79–80, 83 organising centre 43–4 Ostrom, H. 48 parallel discipline designs 46 Parisian École des Beaux Arts 4 Passeron, J.C. 106, 115 pedagogy–criticality–intuition 158–9 Penton (Art College) 59, 60, 71–5, 87, 149, 153; content-driven CCS 102; designed integration 75, 87, 131–4; intuitive integration 145–8, 156–7; models of theory 91, 93–4; organisation of CCS 72; staff identities 116–17, 120; staff perceptions 72–3; student perceptions 74–5 performance 29

performativity 29 Pevsner, N. 11 philosophy: integration as 36, 42–7; philosophical perspective on knowledge 40–1 Piper, W. 11 polarity problem 45 polytechnic colleges 15 post-compulsory sector, significance of xiv–xvi postmodernism 38 post-structuralism 15 practice xxii; communities of see communities of practice; theory/practice divide see theory/practice divide; three models for 26–8 practice-led model 26 prescription 147–8, 156 Pring, R. 35 ‘Progress 8’ xviii progressive education movement 8, 13 prompted integration 86 psychological perspective 41 Ramsden, P. 156 Read, H. 8 realisation, theory for xxiii, 91–6, 160 Rego, P. 27 Rensworth (University of Art) 60, 75–9, 82–3, 88, 149, 153, 158; collaboration as integration 79; content-driven CCS 102; intuitive integration 137–9; models of theory 92, 94; organisation of CCS 76–7; staff identities 114–16, 118–19, 122–3, 158; staff perceptions 77–8; student perceptions 78–9 research culture 12 research process xxiii, 57–63; case selection 58–60; fieldwork 60–2 Reynolds, Sir J. 5 Richardson, M. 8, 13 rigour xxi Rose, J. 38 Ross, M. 14 Royal Academy of Arts (RA) 5, 12 Royal College of Art (RCA) 12 Russell Group universities xviii schools 6, 8, 13–15 Sir John Cass Faculty of Art, Architecture and Design xvii Slade School of Art 7, 12 Smith, W. 5 social constructivist perspective xvi

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social integration 43–4 sociological perspective 40 solid grounding 47–9 specialisms 120–1 staff dispositions 69, 122 staff identities xxiii–xxiv, 112–23, 158; artist practitioner 113–16, 147; education practitioner 113, 116–18; fragmented communities 119–21; theory practitioner 113, 118–19 staff perceptions 68–70, 72–3, 77–8, 80–1, 84–5 status 11–12, 18, 40, 69, 73, 122; academic/vocational divide 23; models of theory and 95–6; struggle for xvii–xix Steers, J. 16 Stibbs, A. 110 structure: linear curriculum structures 47–9; within the subject 39–40 Structure of Art and Design Education in the Further Education Sector 11 structure of the discipline movement 13, 37 student-centred approach 13 student perceptions 70–1, 74–5, 78–9, 81–2, 85 students 46; facilitated integration approach 134–6; integration located in 134–48, 148–9, 159–60; intuitive integration approach 136–48, 159–60 studio 22, 28, 65, 66, 87, 88; form 97–8, 106; models of theory, status and 95–6 studio crit 160 subject-centred shift 13–15 subject cultures xxiii–xxiv, 109–25; defining the subject 110–12; fragmented communities 119–21; staff identities within 112–19 subject-specific CCS content 102 subjects: defining 49–51; structure within the subject 39–40 Summerson Committee 9–10 Swift, J. 16, 35 Symbolic mode 41 tacit knowledge 28–9, 30, 42, 110, 155 talent–métier–imitation 5–6 Teaching Excellence Framework (TEF) xvi–xvii

technique 4–6; integration as 36, 42–7 telling/transmission, teaching as 156 theory xxii, 90–108; form and content 96–106; three types of xxiii, 91–6 theory-led model 26 theory/practice divide xxii, 7–8, 11, 13–14, 22–34, 130; academic drift 23, 25; discourse 23–5; intuition as knowledge 30–1; not knowing 27–8, 31; tacit knowledge 28–9, 30; three models for practice 26–7 theory practitioners 113, 118–19 ‘thingking’ 30 Tickner, L. 11 total integration 45 Truss, E. xvii United Kingdom (UK): contextualising the interest in integration 36–40; government policy xvi–xxii; historical analysis of art education 4–19; National Curriculum 13–14, 18–19, 36, 110 United States (USA): contextualising the interest in integration 36–8; government policy xix; historical analysis of art education 4–19 universities xvi–xvii, xix–xx, 12, 94, 154–5 values, common 121 visual communication programme 68, 70–1 Visual Culture 4, 14, 15–16, 153–4 visual representations 61, 132, 133, 137, 138, 141–4, 145, 146 Vorkurs model xx–xxi, 6 Wittkower, R. 7 Wrickford (FE College) 59, 60, 67–71, 86, 88; form-driven CCS 99–100; intuitive integration 137, 139–45, 156–7; models of theory 92; natural integration 71, 86; organisation of CCS 67–8; staff identities 113–14, 117, 122; staff perceptions 68–70; student perceptions 70–1 writing 41, 48; assessment by essay 102–6, 130, 157; form and issue of 102–6 Young, M. 45, 109, 121 Young British Artists (YBAs) 24