Throughout the process of engaging with Practice as Research (PaR), I came to realize that my approach is almost always along the same path. First, I meditate on the topic or task, taking time to really understand what the question is that is being asked. When I feel that I have a grasp on the idea or concept, I begin to record my stream of conscious thoughts on the subject, often being surprised at the range of words or phrases that emerge. This is what I would consider my "warm-up" to actually starting my practice.
Until recently, my "practice" would be to sit at the keyboard and ruminate until I felt the stroke of genius. While I discovered that each step within my PaR is primarily cerebral, I also had to consider that this may not an ideal approach to any type of research, as it risks the chance of getting stuck before even beginning.
I played with trying new ways to explore. Some of those ways involved movement while others held more of an observational role. When moving, I found that the environment or intent of my movement held a strong influence on how that activity would go. For example, when moving with the prompt of "truth," I found my movements to be fluid, allowing myself to submit to the way my body wanted to move, without any thought or calculation. On the contrary, when the prompt was "thinking," my movement became very rigid and controlled, my conscious making note of each detail and correction. Moving inside versus outside, as well as with or without others present were also factors in how my body moved in the space. Finally, despite whatever my emotional state may have been at the start of any movement practice, the music that accompanied that practice--random, curated, or natural sounds within the space I was in--played a huge role in influencing my movements, thoughts, and emotions as I moved through different spaces.
During my “discovery walk,” the gaps I encountered offered surprising insight.
I found plants growing in a new direction, animals creating a home for themselves, cracks under and between doorways and windows allowing the light to seep in, open ceiling tiles with exposed pipes, corroded and dripping rusted water into a bucket, creating a ripple with each drip.
A few weeks before starting this project, each member of our cohort selected a book from the stack in the middle of the room. I waited for everyone to make their selections and what was left was an empty notebook: the gap.
Initially, I was unsure what to do with the gap. As I flipped through the empty pages, I began to view the gap as an opportunity--a place for thoughts and reflection and ideas.
I began "processing the process," before I could begin "practicing the practice." This space offered me the opportunity to explore, which is why I chose to use this PaR project to "Explore the Gap in Research." What I discovered in the practice was that the gap is not necessarily an oversight or something missing or a silencing, but much like intentional gaps in a sidewalk, the gap allows room for expansion.
This opportunity in the gap could be an entry point or new perspective not previously considered. The gap leaves space for relationships to form (or dissolve), the emergence of novel concepts, for marginalized voices to be heard, and for contesting or challenging what might be considered outdated research.