Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Textbook Embodied Performance As Applied Research Art and Pedagogy 1St Edition Julie Ann Scott Auth Ebook All Chapter PDF
Textbook Embodied Performance As Applied Research Art and Pedagogy 1St Edition Julie Ann Scott Auth Ebook All Chapter PDF
https://textbookfull.com/product/aikido-as-transformative-and-
embodied-pedagogy-teacher-as-healer-michael-a-gordon/
https://textbookfull.com/product/biota-grow-2c-gather-2c-cook-
loucas/
https://textbookfull.com/product/the-art-and-heart-of-good-
teaching-values-as-the-pedagogy-terence-lovat/
https://textbookfull.com/product/acting-and-being-explorations-
in-embodied-performance-1st-edition-elizabeth-hess-auth/
Service Learning as Pedagogy in Early Childhood
Education Theory Research and Practice 1st Edition
Kelly L. Heider (Eds.)
https://textbookfull.com/product/service-learning-as-pedagogy-in-
early-childhood-education-theory-research-and-practice-1st-
edition-kelly-l-heider-eds/
https://textbookfull.com/product/java-performance-2nd-edition-
scott-oaks/
https://textbookfull.com/product/writing-motivation-research-
measurement-and-pedagogy-1st-edition-abdel-latif/
https://textbookfull.com/product/creative-selves-creative-
cultures-critical-autoethnography-performance-and-pedagogy-1st-
edition-stacy-holman-jones/
https://textbookfull.com/product/art-artists-and-pedagogy-
philosophy-and-the-arts-in-education-1st-edition-christopher-
naughton/
Embodied
Performance as
Applied Research,
Art and Pedagogy
JULIE-ANN
SCOTT
Creativity,
Education
and
the Arts
Creativity, Education and the Arts
Series editor
Anne Harris
Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology
Melbourne, Australia
Julie-Ann Scott has written a book that is, to use two of her terms, “risky” and “sus-
ceptible.” In a provocative and useful blend of explanation of research methods and
philosophies and her own personal journey through performance ethnography, as
artist, director, and teacher, she shows us how to think about, write and speak about,
and perform the stories of others, in ways that address artistic and ethical questions of
great importance to those interested in this growing field. Written at an intellectual
level that will engage scholars and artists, yet in language that is accessible for those
community activists who may be building bridges between everyday life and social
justice, this book is an important contribution to performance studies, disability stud-
ies, and ethnography. I was captivated from the start and was sorry to see it end.
—Bruce Henderson Professor, Ithaca College, USA
This series takes as its starting point the interrelationship between arts-
based research and a growing neuroscientific, cultural and economic dis-
course of creativity and creative industries, and the need for education to
play a larger role in these expanding discourses. It also takes as a priori an
invitation to creativity scholars to move more robustly into theorizing
the work of arts- and creativity-based research work, bridging a historical
gap between ‘science’ and ‘art’, between ‘theoretical’ and ‘applied’
approaches to research, and between qualitative and quantitative research
paradigms.
Embodied
Performance as
Applied Research, Art
and Pedagogy
Julie-Ann Scott
Department of Communication Studies
University of North Carolina Wilmington
Wilmington, NC, USA
ix
x DEAR READERS
Series Editors:
Titles include:
Anne Harris
Chris Hay
Tatiana Chemi
xi
xii Previous Titles in Series
So many people have made this project possible. I want to thank Evan, who
knew I had a book to write before I did, and my three boys, Tony, Vinny,
and Nico, who make “Mama’s writing” part of their lives with enthusiasm. I
am thankful that Anne Harris chose to create this series and include my work
in it. Kristin Langellier taught me the performance and narrative methodolo-
gies that I continue to explore. Bruce Henderson provided support and
mentorship from the beginning of my career as a disability and performance
studies scholar. Heather Carver, Karen Mitchell, Heidi Rose, Tim Miller,
and Jim Ferris invested time in enabling me to navigate successfully through
performance studies. Without them I would not have arrived at a place
where I felt confident pursuing a project like this one. I learned to be an
autoethnographer through journal editors who gave such thoughtful feed-
back on my submissions to their journals: Stacy Holman Jones, Tony Adams,
Jimmie Manning, Keith Nainby, and Norman Denzin. I want to thank Bruce
McKinney, Vernon Cronen, and Steve Pullum, who encouraged me to pur-
sue this project, and Hana Noor Al-Deen, who provided advice along the
way. UNCW ETeal offered financial support to make this pedagogical
research happen, and Frank Trimble, Bill Bolduc, and Trahern MacLean col-
laborated on the films featured within it. Craig Gingrich-Philbrook and
Brian Grewe coordinated opportunities for me to form these arguments
through conference collaborations. Mark Johnson, Rick Olsen, David
Weber, Aubrey Huber, Jennie Bryant, and the UNCW Applied Learning
Research Cooperative provided feedback on previous drafts of this book. It
wouldn’t be where it is without them, or all the students, colleagues, com-
munity partners, and research participants that make up the pages. Thank
you. To all of you. I’m deeply indebted to the profound support system I
have in work and in life.
xiii
Contents
xv
xvi Contents
Chapter 3: T
here’s No Center Without the
Margins—Revealing Compulsory Performance
to Achieve Audience Empathy 53
November 2006: Orono, Maine 53
Researching Embodiment as Performance in Pursuit of
Social Justice 55
Performance Research on the Page: Transcribing as
Interpretation 56
Telling Stories Makes, Dismantles, and Remakes Us 57
Compulsory Able-Bodiedness and the Case for Hyper-Embodiment 60
Because We All Know Vulnerability: Achieving Hyper-Embodied
Positioning 63
Mortality as Physical and Social Vulnerability 66
Stories on Stage Connect Us 68
Questions for Discussion 74
References 74
Chapter 11: E
pilogue—The Next Performance Ethnographic
Show in Pursuit of Hyper-Embodiment 187
Glossary 191
References 195
Index 205
Series Editor’s Introduction
All accounts of embodiment are not the same, nor are all performances.
“The body I live through matters,” Scott tells us, and that mattering
breathes through on every page of this tremendous book.
There is something profoundly evocative in Scott’s opening narration
of her self-described disabled child’s body, in a scenario that opens this
compelling text, about the difference between her self-perception and the
reflection she receives back from others in the public sphere, and the
merging of those two different perceptions in her literal reflection in a
shop window which acts as a mirror of many kinds. It is a universally rec-
ognizable moment in the memory of us all, as young people—perhaps
still—seeking ourselves out in shop windows, and in others’ eyes. Yet for
those with physical disabilities or other kinds of visible diversities, as with
Scott, such reflections can be betrayals or cruel alienations.
Scott uses her critical autoethnographic eye that is “a personal storytell-
ing performance as a pursuit of hyper-embodied positioning and social
justice,” and we are right there with her. Her close attention to “compul-
sory able-bodiedness and its connection to compulsory heterosexuality”
reminds us in material, discursive, and community-based ways about the
damage and patterns of intersectional bias and discrimination—and the
dangers of continuing to ignore intersectionality in scholarship, decades
on. Texts like Scott’s, which are able to take us affectively into accounts of
such pervasive and toxic social patterns, are like golden threads in the
cloth of respectful sociality, culturally responsive pedagogy, and good
scholarship.
xxi
xxii SERIES EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION
Scott turns around the stereotyping and stigmatization that she has
encountered and makes from it a unique form of “accessible storytelling
performance” which expands more traditional notions of critical qualita-
tive research and acts as a teaching text and engagement. This text embod-
ies the stages and components of qualitative research design (Battacharya,
2017), as well as the core tenets of critical autoethnography (Holman
Jones, 2016, 2005) and multiple arts-based research forms (think Patricia
Leavy’s Social Fictions series).
As Holman Jones has argued, “there is a vital yet often unrealized rela-
tionship between storytelling and critical approaches to autoethnography”
(2016, p. 1). She has spent years leading autoethnographic scholars away
from the personal narrative approach—the generic personal-is-political
cultural analysis—of traditional autoethnography and toward the intersec-
tional heavy lifting of critical autoethnography. Here Scott interweaves
queerness in a way not unlike Holman Jones’ demand that “queer stories
shadow and haunt accounts of what is valid, normal, and right” (2016,
p. 5), and that “queering” autoethnography is a way to continue the dis-
ruptive and anti-teleological project of queer theory that has been diluted
in other methodologies. Scott draws on top performance autoethnogra-
phy scholars including Tami Spry (2016), Craig Gingrich-Philbrook
(2013), Holman Jones, et al. (2013), Deanna Shoemaker (2013), Ron
Pelias (2014), D. Soyini Madison (2006), and Kristin Langellier (2009),
with whom Scott studied, and she handles them well, inviting readers into
the world of performance ethnography in accessible and exciting ways.
References
I Always Knew…1
In one of my earliest memories I’m getting out of a car during the summer
to go shopping with my mother at Kmart, the only store with toys within
30 minutes of my house. I’m so excited. I stand, peeling my legs from the
vinyl front seat. It’s 1985 and a four-year-old sitting in the front seat with-
out a seatbelt is acceptable in rural Maine. The seat is slick from the sweat
that has pooled under me. I roll up the window per my mother’s instruc-
tion. The air inside the car is hot and thick when the windows are up so
I’m disappointed she won’t let me leave them down while we shop. If our
car ever had air conditioning it doesn’t work anymore.
Today I feel proud of how I look. I’m not wearing the androgynous
overalls that dominate my childhood wardrobe because my mother thinks
their loose fit and undefined waist conceal my irregular gait. It’s finally too
hot for them. Instead I have on white shorts with bows on the side and a
pink Minnie Mouse tank top my aunt bought me. My hair is swept into
two ponytails fastened by pink elastic bands. I feel pretty and airy so I’m
walking a bit straighter, more confident than usual. I catch the eye of a
woman holding her daughter’s hand. She’s staring at me sadly. She
whispers something. My heart beats a little faster. I’m close enough to the
store to see my reflection in the glass door. At four I’m aware of my body,
how it feels to live my identity through it, and how culture responds to it.
I’m so very aware.
Thirty-one years later I can still see my reflection in the large glass door
as I approached that Kmart. I’m lithe and tan from hours swimming in the
behind my house. I see my deep-set, dark eyes, and my grandmother’s
nondescript, average Lafredo nose. (From the way my father talks about
them, the Lafredo nose is preferable to the Malio or Tomassi noses in the
family.) My dark brown hair reflects the sun. I also see what the mother
and her daughter see. My back is slightly hunched, pushed forward to bal-
ance while walking with my feet facing each other. Looking down I see the
fresh purple scars snaking up my calves. I realize that the first operation
didn’t fix me. The doctors snipping and lengthening my heel cords
(Achilles tendons) to drop my feet to the ground hasn’t altered my abnor-
mality enough to compel people to notice my cute outfit before my gait.
The full leg casts, followed by walking casts and six months of physical
therapy, have eliminated the need for the clunky white braces that clutched
from my ankles to my knees. I was overjoyed to be rid of them and the
long socks that reduced chafing. It is only now that I realize that the
absence of the braces hasn’t changed my daily reality as much as I’d hoped.
My legs are still wracked with spasms that leave me screaming when my
muscles finally revolt against the constant tightening tremors throughout
the day. My appearance still attracts questioning, sad, and even repulsed
gazes. The body I live through matters. I know that.
know how they lived identity, meaning, and understanding through their
bodies and to tell them how I lived them through mine. I believed (and still
do) that once we embrace our dependence on mortal bodies, our under-
standing’s dependence on our embodied interactions with others, and the
susceptibility of even deeply embedded meanings to be dismantled through
our body-to-body interactions, we can become more aware, open, and
empathetic to each other’s experiences. Openness and empathy can compel
us to resist fear and marginalization and fight for inclusivity and the valuing
of one another. This begins by listening to and telling stories. Storytelling
performance gives me hope for a safer world that supports and flexes
around rather than rejects and marginalizes our vulnerable bodies. That is
why I’m writing this book. It’s also why I’m a storytelling performance
scholar, teacher, and artist.
This is a critical autoethnographic novel of personal storytelling perfor-
mance as a pursuit of hyper-embodied positioning and social justice.
Autoethnographic writing allows a researcher to situate her body in relation
to others to comprehend cultural realities. It falls under the broader meth-
odological umbrella of autoethnography that links “the autobiographical
and personal to the cultural, social, and political” (Ellis, 2004, p. xix). Many
scholars have thoughtfully explored autoethnography as a methodology
(Bochner, 2012; Chang, 2008; Ellis & Bochner, 2000; Gingrich-Philbrook,
2006; Holman Jones, Adams, & Ellis, 2013). Boylorn and Orbe (2014)
give the succinct definition of autoethnography as “cultural analysis through
personal narrative” (p. 17). Analyses take on many forms, including cre-
ative nonfiction prose (see Ellis, 2004, 2009), performance scripts (see
Spry, 2011), and poetry (see Faulkner, 2014). Methodologically, the term
combines autobiography and ethnography, calling for the “turning of the
ethnographic gaze inward on the self (auto), while maintaining the out-
ward gaze of ethnography, looking at the larger context wherein self experi-
ences occur” (Denzin, 1997, p. 227). A critical frame to an autoethnographic
story attends to cultural power relations, recognizing how privilege, power,
and difference influence our experience and response in the world (Adams,
2011; Alexander, 2006; Denzin, 2014; Diversi & Moreira, 2009; Holman
Jones, 2005; Pelias, 2014; Poulos, 2013; Shoemaker, 2013; Spry, 2006,
2016; Toyosaki & Pensoneau-Conway, 2013). As performance of daily life,
autoethnography is a reflexive performance of self, mapping how meanings
and understandings surrounding identity surface and are struggled over
through one’s lived, embodied experience. Critical autoethnographic sto-
ries not only uncover marginalization, stigma, and prejudice in our personal
4 CHAPTER 1: RESEARCHER POSITIONING AS EMBODIED EXPERIENCE
stories, but also look toward means to resist them. This is the focus of my
research, teaching, and performance of personal storytelling. In this chap-
ter I’ll explain the visceral, collaborative, and susceptible nature of personal
storytelling performance. These components extend from our encounters
in daily life, to qualitative research, to class learning objectives, to staged
productions for diverse audiences. Telling, listening, and interpreting sto-
ries enables human beings to share experiences, to access how life is lived
through bodies other than our own, and to pursue social justice through
striving to create a culture where all bodies are offered the opportunities to
reach their utmost potentials.
upon the living human tissues that allow us to experience our world—to
feel, see, hear, smell, and touch and to be felt, seen, heard, smelled, and
touched. As the founder of existential phenomenology Merleau-Ponty
(1964) articulates, “The enigma is that my body simultaneously sees and
is seen. That which looks at all things can also look at itself and recognize,
in what it sees, the ‘other side’ of its power of looking. It sees itself seeing;
it touches itself touching; it is visible and sensitive for itself” (reprinted in
Kearney & Rasmussen, 2001, p. 290). The body is at once the subject of
its story, the vessel for telling, and its own audience, experiencing and
reacting (both physically and emotionally) to the sound waves and physical
expressions it creates for and with others.
According to Langellier and Peterson (2004), telling a story “is not a
cognitive or reflective process for which the body is a container; before a
story is conceived or performed for an other it is lived through the body
as meaningful” (p. 9). Storytelling is inescapably visceral, instinctively per-
formed from within the body as a means for the body to understand itself
in relation to others within cultures through our ongoing performances of
identity in the world.
As I attend to the visceral nature of personal storytelling, my focus on
my body and its physical and emotional sensations intensifies. The feeling
of the cool keys of my laptop, the click of my nails against the keys, my
bare feet against the hardwood floor as I rock in a glider. I balance my
infant son, Nico, hot against my abdomen, just far enough away from the
keyboard so I can type while he sleeps. I am both content, enjoying Nico’s
soft breathing, and a bit anxious; my chest is faintly tight. There is a slight
worry as I glance at the clock on my computer and hope I can type one
more section before Tony and Vinny wake up from their naps. We are all
performing, all the time. Performance extends from our cultural stages
across our daily encounters. Our bodies in the world are performing our-
selves with, for, and in resistance to others. Without anyone watching me,
my daily performance of an academic mother during the summer session
continues. Right now, in solitude, I am my own audience, experiencing
and reacting physically and emotionally.
As a physically disabled person, I am perhaps more aware of my body’s
role in my experience and understanding of the world than most. My body
demands my attention. Across cultural encounters, the disabled person’s
body evokes others to ask for its story (Garland-Thomson, 2009; Mairs,
1996). Others desire to know how my body came to expose the fragility
of being fleshed. They ask me to explain “how it happened,” revealing that
6 CHAPTER 1: RESEARCHER POSITIONING AS EMBODIED EXPERIENCE
I attracted their gaze as “not normal.” Their curiosity gives me hope that
they realize that what happened to me could also happen to them. All of
our bodies are vulnerable. We know our mortality even if we choose to
ignore it, and this shared knowledge gives hope of connection. I offer
these two autoethnographies to highlight the visceral sensations of the
body we often ignore in our stories. I hope you feel them with me and
realize the visceral nature of your identity that forms through your body’s
sensations of the world and your ongoing responses to it.
process. This is the third operation, and the one that is supposed to finally
give me a more “normal” gait by spinning my legs so that the contracted
muscles’ pulling turns them forward, not 30 degrees inward. I usually can-
not feel the repeated contractions throughout the day, but now, with two
bones sawed in half, each minor contraction is excruciating. I scream for
hours before falling asleep from the exhaustion and the medication that
has finally built up enough to quiet the pain to an angry murmur.
I still remember that pain clearly 23 years later. The 48 hours following
that surgery were the worst pain I’ve ever felt. As I remember, my toes
curl, I cringe, my son moves with my tightening. I am so aware of my
body’s sensation. The inescapably visceral nature of my body is vivid,
encompassing all of my attention.