Complex Cycles

I furthered my research of learning cycles by looking at ones that were a little more complex, that is to say, they have more stages to them. In practicality they didn't go much higher than Kolb's four-stage cycle without becoming overburdened with information, or in many cases the programs had been specifically developed for learning an individual concept or procedure: this is seen most often in computer programming and coding where a very different understanding and mindset is needed to achieve the required results.

What appeared most prevalent was a variety of five and six-stage models that included in their cycles a certain level of judgement as to the success of previous experience. Priest & Gass (1997) actually developed a six-stage model called 'The Experiential Learning and Judgement Paradigm' which consisted of a cycle that went like this;

Experience→Induce→Generalise→Deduce→Apply→Evaluate

I like this set-up, as it encourages a lot of outside thought. Some may consider it too 'scientific' or too strict in how an experience might be approached. I find, however, that the inclusion of Inducement and therefore the use of other knowledge that has been gained in order to refine a skill or technique fills a big hole that always disgruntled me when discussing Kolb's four-stage approach. Why shouldn't an artist have such a methodical approach that involves other knowledges and experiences that they have had to develop a general understanding of a recent experience that they can subsequently refine using Deduction in order to progress their understanding of their latest work. If anything, this approach is the closest thing to the Associated Learning idea I've considered before. Who's to say that a third party could not be included in order to provide an objective perspective at stages 2, possibly 3 and certainly 4? In fact, when considered in light of this Paradigm, it is possible to see any conversation with a tutor, mentor or teacher as a practical application of these stages as progressive guidance allows us to consider what we do in a more panoramic fashion before bringing it back down and form it into information we further use.

All that being said, one of the models that caught my eye and that I thought offered the most comprehensive idea of an ELC, insofar as they can be universally applied, was this one by Exeter (2001). It is simply a variation on Kolb's original theory but with the inclusion of a 'Transfer of Learning' stage. It is still only four stages as the 'Transfer of Learning' is added outside of the cycle itself – and that is what works for me. I found Kolb's design inhibitive and exclusive of a more integrated idea of learning.

As you can see, the 'Transfer of Learning' allows for the potential of applying anything learnt from any given experience into another field, be it directly affiliated or only mildly associated. This is an important potential for any artist; a dancer does not learn plie exercises independently of learning to jette – one informs the other. Without these connections a fluid understanding of any artistic medium would be impossible.

Simple Cycles

While I was considering my own ideas for a theory of learning I decided to look further into Kolb's 'learning' Cycle' and see what other researchers had presented as alternatives to something that could be viewed as somewhat simplistic. It is not that a 'Cycle of Learning' theory is 'wrong', by any means, however I believe a valid concern would be that such a model – using only four stages – may omit crucial elements of what it takes for an individual to develop and master a given skill.

Experiential Learning Cycles (or ELC's) are often given as the prime example of a Semi-structured learning environment, bridging the gap between the 'Progressive' or 'Free' learning experience and the traditional, teacher-driven, 'Structured' programs. I was surprised to discover, however, that instead of becoming more developed and complex, work of other researchers had actually limited – possibly 'simplified' – Kolb's cycle even further.

In reality, one of the biggest criticisms of a 'stages of learning' theory is simply: how many stages of learning are there? Applied simply to any art form: how many elements combine to make a technique perfect? I found the idea of a single-stage model, or even a two-stage theory (James, Bacon, 'Outward Bound and 'Outward Bound Plus') to be very hard to swallow, although the two-stage cycle was conceivable, if overly simplistic. Just to 'experience' and 'reflect in a constructive manner' is a nice, neat idea, it really doesn't lend itself to a constructive learning environment.

In contrast to my earlier statement concerning the criticism of a specific number of learning stages there appears to be some weight behind the concept that a three-stage cycle is actually one of the most practical approaches. Some argue that in practical application Kolb's four-stage cycle adds an unnecessary extra element so that, if taken literally, a practitioner of Kolb's design could easily become bogged doing in specifications of each stage. A classic example of a three-stage cycle looks like this:

It's a design commonly used in product improvement by managerial programs for product improvement and I actually believe it's simplicity is integral to it's effectiveness. It displays one of the limitations I find so disagreeable in Kolb's model: that it dismisses the idea of any learning by association – I mean, why shouldn't one experience influence another 'PLAN' phase, even slightly, without direct association? - at the same time however, for artists or anyone else without an objective facilitator, the accesibility of this scheme would appear to be more adaptable and therefore more useful in the diverse world we live and work in.

Co-operative Learning

It occurred to me the other day when I was thinking about how as artists we critique ourselves in order to improve our work: the idea that we learn how to better what we do through reflection, the ethos behind this module, that there was a crucial element missing from the theories listed in the reader.

The idea that introspective thought and deliberation of an action we have taken – a specifically artistic measure in this case – will affect us when we come to repeat the same action again, is clear and obviously truthful. However, especially as artists and performers to overlook the importance of exterior influences is woefully exclusive. That is not to say every individual ever encountered should have some kind of influence over the art an artist produces but to acknowledge the guidance and support of peers and mentors is extremely significant.

For example: in learning to sing, or dance, or act, or any medium where the goal is re-creation as oppose to total innovation, the tuition and direction of teachers is of paramount importance. You may hear a note and subsequently produce what you believe to be a accurate copy, or see a dance move and be sure you have accurately recreated it when, in actual fact, you have not. It may not be a variation you clearly perceive and yet to others it may possibly be an inferior distinction. This is also true for any medium when the intention is to convey emotion – how we individually feel and express our passion may not be in a way that is obvious to others – good direction is crucial.

In conjunction with personal reflective learning this cooperative learning is a continuous cycle. As a production show entertainer I work as part of a team that includes a dance captain and a vocal captain – people saddled with the responsibility of maintaining the integrity of our work. Along with the refining process involved in learning the material from scratch; beginning with a rudimentary understanding and progressing through to a honed performance level, maintaining a consistently high standard is vital and not something easily accomplished by a sole individual. An objective view by one of the captains reviewing a previous week's show, for example, would provide a constructive insight into weak moments of a performer's work. All the reflective thought in the world could not inform someone that what they were doing was on stage was proving ineffectual if they were not aware of the situation in the first place.

In summation, another crucial tool of development and learning as an artist is the information provided by an external source, as there will always be elements of an individual's work that they themselves do not perceive needs improvement. It is a hard thing to be totally impartial about anything you care deeply about.

Childish?

Has anyone considered why, in the theatre, we're all still referred to as 'boys' and 'girls'? Isn't that an odd use of terminology? It seems pervasive however. I mean, it's only my personal experience but more often than not people tend not to see what we do as real work, moreover they view it as childish – despite how lucrative it can be.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that everybody looks at performance and sees just a bunch of children playing pretend, I would argue that most do not see it as a genuine career however. I can't believe that this general perception has in any way informed the use of particular language within the theatrical world however. Theatres and theatrical practice are full of quirks and eccentricities, so to focus on something so trivial would appear to be a bit of an over-reaction.

So why should I have spent any time thinking about it at all? Well, I believe it has to do with the performers themselves, not any outside view. In order to do what we do well there is a certain childishness to it all. For dancers, the physical freedom required to throw themselves bodily around the stage is a precarious combination of deft accuracy and enormous skill, along with a child-like playfulness to make it all seem natural and effortless. For singers, or any other more straight-laced performers, having easily accessible emotions and an expressive demeanour is vital for them to be able to do their job well. This is a particularly child-like quality.

The overall youthfulness exhibited by performance professionals has most probably been the biggest contributor to the titles now given to them. Should this be lamented? Or decried? Probably not. Maybe it is childish but the vigour we approach our work with is what makes it worthwhile and us good at it. It may not always be a one-way street however, potentially this child-like mentality and attitude informs not only our professional practice but also our general personality. There's very few theories of learning, cyclical or otherwise, that can incorporate the idea that a mature person will not, by choice, act in a rational, adult fashion. What is the value of a reflecting upon a moment, or period of time, when we were acting in a way we usually would not? Or is that what makes the reflection valuable? Looking at what we did in a spontaneous, 'on-line' moment in the light of a more considered time.

Looking back at things I've written before, it would also be appropriate to revisit what I said before about newcomers and new hires and their ability to learn relevant professional practices. Maybe a certain maturity is required to be able to separate the two aspects of the personality – the child professional necessary for performance and the adult professional needed to learn the skills a performer requires.  

A Theory of Learning?

I made some notes in my journal the other day about all this 'method of learning' stuff. I was flicking through the works of Dewey, Lewin, Kolb's 'learning cycle' and the 'stages' of Honey and Mumford and it all just didn't seem entirely comprehensive. It's not that their theories appear 'wrong' exactly, they just seem to be relevant to individual ideas and singular 'skills' or 'ideas' that a person may need to learn – that is to say, their theories don't appear to consider incidental learning.

As a performer I don't feel I draw upon unique lessons learned to enable me to deal with any given situation. The things I do on stage for the company I'm working for now were not informed by identical circumstances from the start of my career but are the summation of skills learnt at college, reactions and emotions from my 'real' life as well as things as yet untested, performance attributes I'm still refining. To consider all these factors within the confines of a 'learning cycle' seems hugely impractical, not to mention the variety and scale of input data would make oversights a certainty.

I also draw from my notes in earlier blogs about lessons learned by newcomers to performance – how some seems to develop necessary skills much faster than others, some not even learning them at all. To deny that the depth of anything learned is heavily informed by the enthusiasm of the teacher/student would be folly. Impetus could be a good word to describe it. The strength of a lesson received by an individual would depend on; how much they wanted to learn it, how much a teacher wanted to teach it or how significant the lesson is to the student's existance.

Just toying around with ideas I hypothesised that maybe a more apt theory of learning would be a 'ripple' effect. The specific 'lesson' would be the epicentre, located directly within the appropriate field (eg. A lesson learned mid-performance would be put under 'stagecraft') with other parts of the student's life in relevant proximity, (eg. A very basic breakdown could show the 'logic' and 'artistic' hemispheres of the brain, or 'work' and 'social' as pects of the student's life, becoming more specific once a singular 'lesson' has been identified. A 'lesson' with a higher Ubiquity would affect more aspects of the student's life and cross more barriers. The second aspect of a 'lesson' would be it's Impetus – the strength with which it was taught or learned. Something learned in an 'on-line' (Kottcamp) environment would have a higher level of impetus, an unenthusiastic teacher would inform a lower level, for example. These two factors, ubiquity and impetus, when combined, would provide a more global picture of how a 'lesson' is not just a singular entity but actually affects more of our life than we may be aware of.

I won't lie, I haven't had any time online to research any other similar theories, so this may be horrible plagiarism, that's something I want to look at as soon as I can. I also acknowledge that attaching scientific values to any of this would be next to impossible. I just like the idea that by looking at it this way, people might be able to see how their thoughts and processes are interwoven and how a more 'pro-active' (I hate that kind of trite jargon) approach could benefit them universally.

Reflecting On My Day

Looking back on the day I decided to blog about in an attempt to perceive things in a different light I also tried to incorporate the ideas of some of the thinkers I've been reading about recently.

Establishing why technical rehearsals are important instead of just plain tedious is something I feel every performer understands, they just don't want to accept it. We enjoy the freedom of what we do, to work something to death takes a little of the fun out of it. I think many performers feel their spontaneity is undermined by over-preparation to the point where everything is repetition. Ironically this is probably the most essential part of these rehearsals. As Twyla Tharp wrote, “...memory of movement doesn't need to be accessed through conscious effort.” something these technical runs prepare you for, they reinforce Donald Schon's theory of reflection-in-action by giving an individual a better supported understanding of alternatives should an in-action alteration be necessary. This benefits the confidence of the performer, not to mention the enjoyment of the audience who don't even realise they have witnessed a seamless correction of an issue they didn't even see. It's comforting to know that under scrutiny a technical rehearsal is far more than just making sure the lights and microphones work.

It's possible to apply just about every theory of education and learning to my role as wardrobe supervisor. Some things I knew before I started; use of a sewing machine, how to sew on a button or repair a seam, for example, however some things have been a steep curve of introduction. Repairing and re-gluing a show was quite self-evident, so there was no surprise when my first approach garnered success. I was taught how to replace a zipper (or 'fly'), therefore in that instance it was a case of assisted education that was reinforced and conditioned by repeated successful applications. The more interesting areas, now I reflect on the whole progression, were the areas of repair and maintenance that are not common in the ordinary world. Holes in unexpected places, unusual material all called for a trial-and-error approach a la Dewey, Lewin and Kolb (unless I fancied contacting the wardrobe head office on land every other day, which I didn't). True examples of Active Experimentation combined with Abstract Conceptualisation provided Concrete Experience that was easy to reflect on as my efforts were put through their paces not long after. Some things worked and were used again, other practices just weren't up to the task – almost an intellectual survival of the fittest.

I suppose the poignant issue to comment on my the performances that evening would be my reaction to those around me as circumstances caused them achieve less than their best but not be concerned by it – even to laugh at it. I don't doubt that my personal attitude is a bit of a hard line, although I would resolutely defend the idea that we have one shot with each audience every time we step on stage and that any mistakes are a tragic loss of opportunity. Looking beyond that, using the lens of Donald Schon and Robert Kottcamp's work, the same situation could be seen differently. 'Things' will happen and situations will inevitably occur: a dancer as part of a chorus, less in the limelight, relies heavily on 'on-line' thought processes and 'reflection-in-action' – they have no time to over-think as to do so would run the risk of over-riding their muscle memory and complicating the simple unison of body and mind. Their amusement at issues that arose and how they dealt with them, instead of being judged harshly, could be seen as their resignation to their autonomous adaptation (possibly also partially attributed to embarrassment) and their unwitting confidence in Kottcamp's idea that 'on-line' actions are, “...more difficult to achieve, but the more powerful for improvement of practice...”.

There's little that be said about having a small cabin to spend our time in, only the hope that spatial restrictions don't subsequently infringe upon the liberties of the mind.

Reflecting On Professional Attitude

A typical day on a cruise ship is a hard thing to turn into anything of literary interest. Today, for example, began with a technical rehearsal for the evening's production show. It is a tedious process often decried by many performers – especially singers as many rarely are in their best form in the morning. It is never full-out, usually it is at a level called 'strong mark' – that's about 70-80% in layman's terms. No costumes, no spotlights, just blocking for everybody and an equipment check for all that need it.

That leaves the rest of the day before the show. We're moored up off an island in the Bahamas, sounds nice, no? Well it is nice, I've seen a few islands by now though, so summoning up the motivation to brave the tender boat to get there is beyond me – as a crew member there are more than a few rules I'd have to observe and to be honest I wouldn't mind seeing out the rest of my day without feeling like a schoolchild. Instead I opt to take care of a few of my wardrobe supervisor responsibilities – there's always laundry to be done and my team is spectacularly adept at destroying their costumes: if there wasn't a shoe to glue there would be a clasp to re-stitch or a hem to be fixed – sometimes I even find myself sticking diamanté studs back on to a variety of garments – something I highly recommend if you have hours of your day with nothing else to fill them. It's boring, it's monotonous but I genuinely feel like I'm contributing – I'm not sure anyone notices what I do too much though.

I'll leave out any details of the food here onboard – it's a big grievance for the cast as it makes a decent level of nutrition almost impossible to maintain, enough said. Suffice to say, a trip to the gym is essential. I started the P90X program about a month ago and it's going well. The spring break crowds make the spa area of the ship pretty obnoxious but I suppose as they're paying for me to be here I can't complain too much. I miss having a pull-up bar.

Showtime! We had great audiences; enthusiastic at the beginning, vocal throughout and two standing O's to round things off – you can't feel too bad after that. I find myself getting frustrated with performers who take themselves very lightly: specifically those who feel it appropriate to laugh when they make mistakes onstage. I don't. I'm hard on myself if I screw up, I always saw it as an attitude I had to have when surrounded by very talented people when I myself am not, I just worked hard. I also get angry with people who walk into work and declare that they 'can't really be bothered' so they're going to take it easy with the shows that night. It happens a lot, which is sad, I lose a lot of respect for anyone who lets those kinds of sentiments out of their mouth. I guess it comes from taking what we have for granted, I hope I never do that.

Now I'm back in my cabin writing this, there's not much space but it's home. I'm a little tired but I'm satisfied I did my best all day, although that might just be the painkillers talking – a big, heavy door closed on my foot a couple of days ago and split the nail of my big toe right across the middle. Tell you one thing, Americans do make good painkillers...

A Day On A Cruise Ship

A typical day on a cruise ship is a hard thing to turn into anything of literary interest. Today, for example, began with a technical rehearsal for the evening's production show. It is a tedious process often decried by many performers – especially singers as many rarely are in their best form in the morning. It is never full-out, usually it is at a level called 'strong mark' – that's about 70-80% in layman's terms. No costumes, no spotlights, just blocking for everybody and an equipment check for all that need it.

That leaves the rest of the day before the show. We're moored up off an island in the Bahamas, sounds nice, no? Well it is nice, I've seen a few islands by now though, so summoning up the motivation to brave the tender boat to get there is beyond me – as a crew member there are more than a few rules I'd have to observe and to be honest I wouldn't mind seeing out the rest of my day without feeling like a schoolchild. Instead I opt to take care of a few of my wardrobe supervisor responsibilities – there's always laundry to be done and my team is spectacularly adept at destroying their costumes: if there wasn't a shoe to glue there would be a clasp to re-stitch or a hem to be fixed – sometimes I even find myself sticking diamanté studs back on to a variety of garments – something I highly recommend if you have hours of your day with nothing else to fill them. It's boring, it's monotonous but I genuinely feel like I'm contributing – I'm not sure anyone notices what I do too much though.

I'll leave out any details of the food here onboard – it's a big grievance for the cast as it makes a decent level of nutrition almost impossible to maintain, enough said. Suffice to say, a trip to the gym is essential. I started the P90X program about a month ago and it's going well. The spring break crowds make the spa area of the ship pretty obnoxious but I suppose as they're paying for me to be here I can't complain too much. I miss having a pull-up bar.

Showtime! We had great audiences; enthusiastic at the beginning, vocal throughout and two standing O's to round things off – you can't feel too bad after that. I find myself getting frustrated with performers who take themselves very lightly: specifically those who feel it appropriate to laugh when they make mistakes onstage. I don't. I'm hard on myself if I screw up, I always saw it as an attitude I had to have when surrounded by very talented people when I myself am not, I just worked hard. I also get angry with people who walk into work and declare that they 'can't really be bothered' so they're going to take it easy with the shows that night. It happens a lot, which is sad, I lose a lot of respect for anyone who lets those kinds of sentiments out of their mouth. I guess it comes from taking what we have for granted, I hope I never do that.

Now I'm back in my cabin writing this, there's not much space but it's home. I'm a little tired but I'm satisfied I did my best all day, although that might just be the painkillers talking – a big, heavy door closed on my foot a couple of days ago and split the nail of my big toe right across the middle. Tell you one thing, Americans do make good painkillers...

Professional Attitude

I made a note in my journal the other day that simply said: “Why can't some people learn fast enough?”

It referred to some members of the team I'm currently working with for whom this is their first professional contract.. I thought about how certain performers can comprehend what is required of them very early on, despite their lack of experience, while others will complete their employment unchanged. How could this be? Is it an inability to learn and progress or an actual resistance to it?

I always prided myself on the challenges I would force myself to overcome: during my current tenure I accepted the responsibility of being the wardrobe supervisor, learning the necessary skills to maintain and repair the costumes for my cast. It may not seem like much but learning to sew another skill, something I could not do before. Even without conscious effort I have watched new hires pick up relevant knowledge, learn and grow as performers in a professional environment. Were individuals who did not purely lazy, or was their mindset such that they could not accept the idea that they were somehow flawed?

As I thought of the people who fell into the two categories: those who progressed with things like professionalism; punctuality, attitude, respect for the product and maintaining it's integrity, it became apparent that there was a factor that distinguished the two camps: those who had attended a higher education facility for performers continued to progress and those who had come from a competition background or from weekend and evening schools did not. I have no doubt that this is no universal truth, however it would imply that those who make the commitment to years of intensive training either respect the idea that they have more to learn, or it is a mentality they develop there.

As the age of employed performers seems to be getting lower for large, international leisure companies, in an industry where 'talent' displayed at a single audition can garner an individual a gainful contract, it is worth considering the implications this may have for a production team's morale, as well as a continued level of excellence in their work. Employers should encourage a higher standard of education for their entertainment employees in order to ensure a future of respectable live productions.

Professional Communication Technologies

'Hey', 'Hi' and 'How are you?'. I've arrived to this party a little late due to circumstances I'm sure very few people here would like to read about. I plan on being a late bloomer however, so let's get started with a few thoughts on Professional Communication Technologies before we get all reflective...

Ironically, it seems somewhat narrow-minded to assume that Web 2.0 technology will benefit any individual's artistic endeavours. As a performer I greatly enjoy approval from my audiences – be they live or via online feedback – Web 2.0 allows me to promote material or performances I have been involved with easily and quickly - but that bears little relevance to artistic creation, which is something personal, an expression of one's inner self. Art, in a classical sense, is Web 1.0: designed to be consumed. A reaction is desired, although it is at the consumer's discretion as personal opinions should – more often than not – remain just that in order to allow others their own experience.

Many would argue that Web 2.0 allows you as a working professional to open doors, communicate and interact with parties you may not have previously been able to reach, as well as take advantage of the opportunity to display your work to an incredibly large audience – but by definition Web 1.0 allowed you the same platform. Do all the Facebook comments and discussion boards really benefit you as an artist if you are doing something that is personal or something you feel strongly about? If your motivation is internal expression will a battery of varied responses applauding you or deriding you, fuelled by reasons as diverse as culture, religion, race or preference actually aid you in your goal? Or will they cause you to question yourself, to 'dilute' your work in order to make it appealing to the (virtual) global majority?

Web 2.0 has been described as 'emancipatory', 'democratising' the internet. It would seem instead that contrary to liberating you as an artist – which Web 1.0 did adequately – Web 2.0 opens you up to a multitude of limitations. The freedom to express yourself without exposing yourself to every detail of dissension or accolade is something truly desirable. When it comes to democratisation and the whole being greater than the sum of it's parts, I offer these: a chain is only as strong as it's weakest link, the lowest common denominator is rarely the best one and never play to the peanut gallery.

Work Photos

Here's the beginnings of a little set of photographs chronicling my work history. It'll grow and develop as I look back over the projects I've been involved in. Maybe take a little look if you get a chance...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/60439257@N07/sets/72157626109084055/

Performance: For Love Or Money?

Recently I was presented with a conundrum.

I received an offer of work - to all intents and purposes a cause for celebration - but this offer raised issues both personally and professionally. It's probably fair to say that most performers get involved in their preferred art form and train hard to progress with it because of a passionate love for what it is that they do. This invariably youthful enthusiasm is something we all strive to maintain in order to retain the vibrancy and energy of our work. Hence my dilemma: the new contract offer was to do the same identical work as I had done for most of the past two years. Do I accept simply because having work is better than not having work, or do I decline simply out of fear of becoming professionally stagnant?

Some may argue that it is always possible to keep performances fresh and exciting and that doing so could possibly be the hardest aspect of our line of work - therefore, as a working professional I should push myself to find the extra nuance and tonal colour to make myself a better performer. Unfortunately there is a little more to it than that. The offer comes with a strict living environment that was the cause of a lot of personal discomfort and unhappiness that directly affected the strength of my work and well as my physical and mental well-being.

Many may read that and say that the choice is obvious: how could anyone elect to suffer emotionally for the sake of getting paid? It is true that it would seem illogical to make a choice that would actually worsen one's inner balance, but ultimately another contract is another opportunity to do something I love and be able to live whilst doing it - it may not intrinsically provide me new avenues to express myself but shouldn't we be prepared to sacrifice certain liberties in order to have our time to make the most of our art?

This situation is ongoing, please let me know your thoughts.