Project statement
2 | statement
A student-directed learning experience
What does the student do?
Advanced newMedia students have foundational conceptual skill sets in 2D (image), 3D (space), and 4D (time) contexts, and have succeeded in making work in a range from tactile (drawing, sculpture, etc.) to digital media, often blending the two. On this basis, the advanced practice student is ready to chart a personal course within a range of potential objectives.
This concept, student-directed learning, literally turns the studio upside down. Within the objective confines of newMedia, the student — not the teacher — determines the software agenda, the media expression, the disciplinary focus, the pace of a project, broader learning objectives, and anticipated outcomes.
What does the teacher do?
The teacher, while retaining the roles of mentor, advisor, and critic, relinquishes control of all else to student interest. Advanced practice students have such a wide range of information sources through Internet resources that the role of gatekeeper to expertise once reserved for the teacher is now obsolete. Thus, the advanced practice student often takes the teacher out of the comfort zone of expertise, and the new role of the teacher becomes a co-learner whose job it is to model what it is to be a learner.
As a student in an advanced practice studio, your first task is to declare the curriculum, objectives, outcomes, tools, expressions, and skills necessary to take yourself where you want to go professionally. We do this by crafting tools that communicate your intentions: one of these is the project statement.
A learning contract
In an advanced practice studio, a student might create a learning contract or course contract to articulate these roles. You may sometimes hear an instructor speak of a course syllabus as a contract, a document that binds parties to mutual obligations: a student agrees to meet objectives, and the instructor agrees to abide by a means of qualitative and/or quantitative assessment. Both parties are obligated under this contract, but the instructor is usually the one to draw it up.
A syllabus is an imposed set of objectives and outcomes, usually determining WHAT is learned, HOW it is learned, WHEN or at what pace it must be learned, and what EVIDENCE will be used to demonstrate learning has indeed happened. This is a fine model for foundational skill-building, but imposing requirements on advanced practitioners is not just demeaning, it’s pedagogical malpractice. Foundational skills inspire a student to find a personal path toward practice as an art or design professional. We need a way for those personal choices, goals, achievements, and means of measuring progress to be self-determined, not superimposed. Hello, learning contract.
There is no set formula for a learning contract but we generally encourage four elements to be described by the student:
- WHAT is to be learned: a statement of learning goals (broadly defined) and objectives (specific skills)
- HOW it will be learned: a statement on mastering methods or processes of acquiring knowledge
- WHEN will it be learned: a timetable and set of deadlines that determines the pace of learning
- EVIDENCE of learning: a statement of what will be produced, demonstrating qualitatively and/or quantitatively that goals and objectives have been satisfied
The WHAT
The learning contract might start with a statement of a broad goal, theme or topic. For example, one might wish to address a long-range professional goal (becoming an animator, becoming a web designer), one might want to state it as a broad skill-based theme (this studio will explore interactive design, this studio will explore film-making), or perhaps a content-emergent topic (web interactive concrete poetry, hyperlink narrative).
Out of this emerges a set of objectives that help one meet the goal or explore the theme or topic. Objectives come in several flavors:
- Knowledge: awareness of generalized experiences
- Understanding: application of newly gained knowledge
- Skill: application of understanding through specific practice
- Attitude: application of skill to a professional aspiration
- Value: application of attitude toward developing professional behavior or philosophy
Typical of foundational level work is a focus on knowledge, understanding, and skill. Advanced practitioners may still have these present in their list of objectives, but the focus begins to shift toward advanced skills, attitudes, and values associated with developing a professional mindset.
The HOW
Methods and processes of learning can vary with the kind of objectives a learner lists, but they can also depend on personal learning style. For example, students seeking knowledge- or understanding-level objectives might engage in tutorial work, but depending on learning style, they might prefer video-based or book-based (or wiki-based) delivery. Although one can be specific about the kinds of sources used—the name of the book, or the video tutorial platform—it is sometimes a trial-and-error exercise to find advanced skill-building resources. Heuristics (a topic we’ll save for below) allow for latitude in researching and discovering methodologies the learning contract cannot cover.
Identification of appropriate resources and description of methods appropriate to the level of articulated objectives are keys to the HOW of the contract, and include (but are not limited to):
If you’re in an advanced practice studio, you should strive to define objectives at every level, not just limit yourself to software tutorial skill-building. By mapping methods onto the objectives described above, we can identify resources and descriptions of methods appropriate to the level of articulated objectives. These are the keys to the HOW of the contract, and include (but are not limited to):
Knowledge
- Book resources
- Web-based resources
- Video or podcast tutorials
Understanding
- Computer applications
- Digital fabrication tools
- Tactile media choices
Skill
- Self-designed exercise descriptions
- Self-designed project descriptions
- Cross-application workflows
Attitude
- Collaborative projects
- Working with a client
- Competitions and grants
Value
- Cross-discipline studio integration
- Practicum or internship integration
- Exhibition and publication
The WHEN
A 15-week semester is a horrible unit of time. More often than not it is too short to generate meaningful work. So how can the learning contract articulate the “right” amount of work for a 4-credit studio? Should the project be broken up across semesters, and if yes, what kind of breakpoint allows for a meaningful, portfolio-worthy product while the work is in progress?
At the school where I teach, we assume 12 to 15 hours of work per week to earn credit in a 4-credit course. A student designing a self-directed experience should be careful to meet the minimum, but not exceed the maximum, and this can help determine the breakpoint. A graphic design project might be accomplished in one term; an animated short might take three!
Project-based studio work is deadline-driven, but most deadlines don’t reveal how a project must be broken down into smaller tasks, each of which has a deadline. Analyzing a project this way is the task of project management, as unartistic as this sounds. Project management tools range from simple to complex:
- Calendar: a simple Google calendar with deadlines.
- Timeline: spreadsheet- or table-based weekly accounting of deadlines shows progress graphically.
- Gantt Chart: also table-based, often combines with a timeline to graphically describe relationships between parts of a project, especially useful for more complex or collaborative projects.
- Kanban Boards: task management through the digital equivalent of the sticky note, a kanban board like Trello is filled with “cards” that describe tasks in greater detail.
- Critical Path: for the most complex projects, a Gantt-like chart reveals the “critical path,” a sequence of tasks that, when added together, determine the duration of a project. In other words, if you delay any task on the critical path, you delay the overall deadline.
The EVIDENCE
Different kinds of learning objectives require different types of evidence. Project-based creative work. is a primary source in an art studio. We articulate the kind and quality of the project in the contract as such.
Other kinds of evidence are common but overlooked in the contract:
- Sketchbook as a raw tool for ideation
- Blog journaling as a record of heuristic progress
- Portfolio via a website curating photos, images, videos, multimedia
- Archive via a cloud-based storage-and-retrieval system
- Exhibition in a gallery or web-based setting
- Critique or defense of the thesis
- Engagement through completion of tutorials or academic etiquette
Be creative and innovative when proposing evidence of learning accomplishment, being especially mindful of context such as senior status.
Media Praxis
The version of this studio we do at the school where I teach is known as Integrating Media, and it can be repeated up to three times. All sections of Integrating Media are considered advanced practice studios. Advanced practitioners discover convergence among media expressions, working along the 2D-3D-4D and/or digital-tactile spectra. It bears emphasis that 3D modeling can be pursued through Praxis, although practitioners are encouraged to do so in combination with other media, in keeping with the broader objectives of the studio.
A big tent
The studio is a big tent. Students can work in so many ways:
2D
Media:
Graphic
Typography
Digital imaging
Skills:
Vector graphics
Raster graphics
Compilation
3D
Media:
Still image composition
Time-based media
CGI
Virtual reality
Augmented reality
Skills:
The above at 2D, plus…
Modeling
Rendering
Animation
Fabrication
4D
Media:
Time-based media
Interactive media
Web
Skills:
The above at 3D, plus…
Audio-video
Programming
Trans
media
Media:
Sequential art
Graphic novel
Cross-platform storytelling
Skills:
The above at 4D, plus…
Story world creation
Multimedia
Installation
We call the studio Integrating Media because integrating is exactly what you will do in a student-directed project. To create such a project, you will be in charge of every aspect of course design:
- The What: Your project is a means to an end, and through it you’ll develop a personal creative process
- The When: Beyond standard studio meeting times and prescribed presentations, you’ll manage your creative time, and how many semesters your project might take
- The Where: You’ll determine your ideal creative work environment, physically and virtually, as well as the resources you need to succeed
- The Why: Beyond the criteria of the so-called “hidden curriculum,” you’ll articulate your learning objectives through a Course Contract
- The How: Through a think-outside-the-box brainstorming process known as dialectics, you’ll create a succinct pitch we call a Project Statement
Let’s unpack these a bit.
A personal creative process: the What
Design thinking?
Many people have tried to describe the essence of the creative process. In Design Thinking circles, this classic diagram from the Stanford d.school circa 2004 summarizes one description:
But some critics have rightly pointed out that, at some stage, you have to put your work out there. So they added a node to indicate the concept of storytelling, exhibiting, or publishing in the process:
For some creative people, the d.school catchphrasing of Empathize, Define, Ideate, Prototype, Test, and Show feels a bit imprecise or irrelevant. You might need to empathize if you’re a designer, but if you’re an artist? You don’t necessarily have a client to empathize with if you make a painting.
Another way to formulate it
So, for artists, others have described the “three I” process: Inspiration, Iteration, and Implementation. But those don’t necessarily speak to designers.
Our studio is broadly ecumenical: we welcome both art and design, so we look for language that embraces all, and synthesize the two descriptions to arrive at this diagram:
The tidiness of this diagram makes it easy to think the creative process is linear, going step-by-step from the realm of Observation and Definition that characterize Inspiration to the explorations of Heuristics (discovery) and Prototyping (sketching) that define Iteration, to the aspects of Synthesis (making) and Publication (exhibition) that comprise Implementation. But in reality, the process behaves more like this:
The creative process is nonlinear, often cyclical, but never a simple step-by-step process. Here, the dark lines indicate a general tendency to move toward completion, and the lighter lines suggest potential cycles. A Prototyping activity might suggest returning to a Heuristic tutorial, then cycling back for another prototype, having acquired a needed new skill.
So even though the stages can be generalized, how an individual creative person moves through them is unique. We’ll go into greater detail on Inspiration below, and save Iteration and Implementation for future exploration.
Inspiration: Observation and Definition
In our studio, we formalize this part of the process through a Project Statement. This distills a description of your project into an easy-to-remember-and-say “elevator pitch.” But it’s not necessarily easy to create!
We use a special brainstorming technique known as dialectic thinking to do it. Observing existing contradictory, complementary, or contrary phenomena will help you with defining a new and original area of study within new media. Remember that the project drives the statement, so you are always free to revise it as the work progresses.
The project defines the statement
We are constantly asked to justify our work through dreaded artist statements. Yet artists don’t trust words—otherwise, they would write instead of paint or make animations. Why bother when we don’t trust words? Doesn’t the work speak for itself?
Well, no. A project is a made thing, like a house. A house is built on a foundation, with systems of structure, wiring, and plumbing. Without that unseen stuff, the house would fail. To assess its soundness as a construction, we need to inspect the foundation. If the work is the house, the conceptual framework for the work—the project statement—is all that stuff under the ground and behind the walls.
But let’s be clear: the statement does not define the project. A foundation isn’t designed to determine the shape of the house — instead, the shape of the house will determine the foundation. You don’t simply declare a topic and a framework one time and follow it uncritically. For the project to define the statement, a cycle of iteration is created. Thinking and writing may kickstart doing, but the doing causes us to reconsider our original thinking. This becomes an ongoing self-critique of work in progress. So although we start the term with a first pass at a statement, we revisit and revise it according to how the work evolves. The project defines the statement.
If your project is to be seen not as a self-indulgent hobby but rather as a meaningful contribution to culture — a sound construction — your artwork must contain conceptual and expressive substance: the value the work has for an audience. If this can be described, it can be argued that the work embodies it. By contrast, if the work itself is lacking in substance, so will any project statement relating to it. At best, you’ll appear disingenuous.
Anatomy of a dialectic
So how do we arrive at substance? We develop the statement as a dialectic: a process of arriving at original thinking through resolution of tension between existing, yet opposing, phenomena. In the most simplistic terms, we can think of this as:
problem⟶reaction⟶solution
… but it’s a bit more subtle. A good dialectic describes the progression of an idea in a critical thought process. We identify the opening proposition — an observable phenomenon — as the thesis. An alternative proposition — a critical perspective on the thesis — is an antithesis. We resolve the tension between these in a synthesis, a resolution of conflict:
thesis⟶antithesis⟶synthesis
… whereby one creates original thinking about a zone of concern. This triad implies first the identification of a set of opposing ideas—the thesis and antithesis—a dualism.
Dualisms are not binary
It is common to assume the expression of dualism as merely a binary: hero/villain, to use a story trope example. A duality can be contrary, yes, but it can also be contradictory or complementary.
Let’s take an example from story-world creation.
The contrary state to hero is villain, but the contradictory state is a negation: anti-hero (which is not the same thing as villain). The complementary state to the hero can be nothing else but the negation of the villain: not-villain (which is not the same thing as a hero). We describe this arrangement of duals in a diagram known as a semiotic square.
The semiotic square
Because contradiction leads to a purely nihilistic result, dual relationships of a contrary or complementary nature can create the basis for a complex web of oppositions:
- hero/villain: our initial state (S1) in opposition to a contrary state (S2)
- hero/anti-villain: S1 in a complementary opposition (not-S2, also indicated as ~S2)
- hero/anti-hero: S1 in a contradictory opposition (~S1)
- … and so on.
So this is a rich field of thesis-antithesis parings, but how do we get to the synthesis? The semiotic square is a field of relationships that we can expand to generate triads. The nodes in these triads are not exactly heroes, not exactly villains, but some synthesis of the traits of both, creating a rich tapestry for story creation. In the field of hero/villain, we could expand the field to articulate triads such as:
- a sentient cosmic force (synthesis of hero/villain)
- a mentor (synthesis of hero/anti-villain)
- a trickster (synthesis of villain/anti-hero)
- forces of nature (synthesis of anti-hero/anti-villain)
Wrapping your head around the square
Before you attempt one of these things on your own, let’s explore two other examples of expanded field semiotic squares:
- One, in a fine arts context, looks at the development of new sculptural forms at the dawn of the Post-modern era, in Rosalind Krauss’s seminal essay (in PDF form).
- Two, in a cinematic applied arts context, applies the square to Star Wars in John Powers’ blog post.
Your turn
Next, try your hand at a square.
Use the field at left that starts with the thesis-antithesis digital/tactile, and expand it to include your synthesis terms. For example, you may want to make an animation. Where does animation show up in your expanded field, and what are the other terms that show up in the other triads you end up not being a part of?
The purpose of your square will be the same purpose that Krauss used hers for. In her time, sculptural praxis was going through profound shifts in means (earthworks, installation art, etc.) and no one knew 1) what to call this stuff, and 2) how it related to anything. In our time, digital media are redefining art activity to no less an extent. As a digital media artist, you are on the cutting edge. Know where you stand so you don’t get cut!
Anatomy of a statement
Once done with your square, you know your territory broadly, you’ve narrowed down the part you occupy, and you have the vocabulary that can help you begin writing your project statement. A good statement opens with a short statement that distills your synthesis. Think of this as your elevator pitch:
- Open with a description of an observed, objective, globally recognizable phenomenon.
- Articulate a second which takes a complementary or contrary critical stance.
- Conclude by expanding the field: a discussion of methods of synthesis to create a new idea.
Beyond this short but meaningful opening elevator pitch, your statement can take many possible turns in support of the dialectic. These things include, but are not limited to:
- Placing the project in an art historical or theoretical framework.
- Placing the project in a personal, expressive, or cognitive framework.
- Educating the audience, allowing them to develop empathy or sympathy with the work.
- Presenting analysis (form related to concept) of the work.
- Discussing how we arrive at content via metaphor, metonym, synecdoche, or irony.
Remember to keep it simple, avoid jargon or pomposity, write in whole sentences, avoid an informal or chatty tone, use the third person, and check grammar and spelling. No one will read a poorly written statement, and nothing will support your work less.
Heuristics CAN change your statement!
Eureka!
This is an ancient Greek term, purported to be uttered by Archimedes upon discovering the displacement of water volume by his body in a bathtub. From eureka we derive the term heuristic, which describes any kind of pragmatic approach to a problem which, while in some way imperfect, will get the job done. It also speaks to the concept of intuitive judgment upon which so many artists rely.
In our case, we use the term heuristics to define one notion of iteration, using an initial intuition, guess, rule of thumb, or some other heuristic to generate a sequence of improving stabs at methods or concepts that converge on the ultimate form of the project. The notion of heuristic recognizes that, for an artist, there is no “right” or “first” answer, and that research, discovery, testing things out, abandoning original thoughts in favor of better ones, is not a waste of time, but rather an expression of the creative process.
An informal, fluid process
Unlike the project statement, you can develop heuristic changes to your project’s foundational texts informally in your blog. Do this through reflective writing, and consider a variety of discoveries from a different tutorial to a different workflow to consideration of different project concepts altogether. Documenting iteration in the blog allows revisitation and revision of the project statement, or even the learning contract, as one learns more about the territory of exploration.
Heuristic methods are a constant throughout the entire studio, but we typically emphasize them in the first third of an academic term. This is not always the case, however. An example: one student completely threw out his original idea when he discovered the possibilities of augmented reality and how this could cross over into a tactile sculpture course he was taking concurrently with a newMedia studio. He made this discovery in Week 7 of a 15-week term! Such a mid-course correction, with such a technically challenging component, is nearly fatal, but he convinced a pair of professors in two studios to support the creation of a physical installation with an augmented reality component. The work was successful because the Eureka moment motivated him!