References:
Borgdorff H. (2012)The conflict of the faculties: perspectives on artistic research and .
academia, Amsterdam: Leiden University Press.
Frayling C. (1994) Research in Art and Design. Royal College of Art Research Papers, 1(1).
Schön, D. (1983) The Reflective Practitioner: How Professionals Think in Action. New York: . Basic Books.
Schwab M., ‘Contemporary Research‘, HUB - Journal of Research in Art, Design and .
Society, 0 (2023) https://www.researchcatalogue.net/view/2190234/2190235/0/0 .
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Springgay S., Truman S.(2018) On the Need for Methods Beyond Proceduralism: Speculative
. Middles, (In) Tensions, and Respons-Ability in Research. Qualitative Inquiry, 24(3),
. 203-214.
My research methods are informed by my background as a practitioner, drawing on the embodied knowledge I have gained through my own creative practice. This is complemented by methods of reflexivity and documentation, such as journaling, walking, and the collection of visual data. Journaling serves as a tool for personal reflection, allowing me to track the development of my thoughts and the shifting contours of the research. Walking provides a way of engaging with the material world, offering new perspectives and insights, while visual data collection enables me to document and analyze the aesthetic and sensory dimensions of the research. Together, these methods allow me to construct a research process that is as much about discovery as it is about searching for meaning, emphasizing a holistic and emergent approach to artistic inquiry.
I find myself reflecting deeply on the methodologies that will shape my practice. At this point, I am not focused on knowing or adhering to fixed methods, but rather on allowing the methods to emerge organically as the process unfolds. The methodology guiding my research is informed by the concept of the speculative middle, as articulated by Stephanie Springgay and Sarah Truman (2018, p. 206). They describe this approach as a shift from merely documenting or reporting on the world to cultivating a way of being that is open to experimentation, intentionality, and responsiveness. In their view, methods emerge through the entanglement of the research process itself, rather than being rigidly predetermined at the outset. This resonates with my belief that methodologies in artistic research must be flexible and adaptable, evolving in response to the lived experience of the research. This approach aligns with the understanding of emphasizing intentions—where the research itself dictates the appropriate methods, taking into account the specific context, location, and actors involved. This view acknowledges that research methods are not static, but are instead responsive and contingent upon the unfolding dynamics of the research process.
In conclusion, artistic research, artistic research is not a linear or predefined approach to knowledge. It is a dynamic, evolving process that thrives on the interaction between material, action, and reflection. By working in this way, I am able to both deepen my own practice and contribute to the broader understanding of ceramic art as a form of knowledge-making. Much like exploring a landscape and finding ways of connection, I see doing artistic research as a process that is both speculative and intentional, allowing for a generation of new knowledge that is situated, embodied, and complex. By embracing contradiction, uncertainty, and emergence, artistic research endeavours to explore the unknown. Additionally, artistic research, with its unique methodologies, holds the potential to offer new ways of knowing that engage both the mind and the body, the conceptual and the material.
As stated by Henk Borgdorff (2012, p.148) artistic research, in this context, is not a fixed, predetermined approach, but rather a project and a proposition—an invitation to look at artistic practices in a new light. It challenges traditional notions of knowledge, urging us to recognize the epistemic potential embedded in the act of making. The "practice turn" in contemporary theory emphasizes that knowledge and experience are constituted not through abstract theorization, but through practices, actions, and interactions. This aligns with my own view that the process of creation—whether in ceramics or any other medium—offers a distinct form of knowledge that cannot be fully captured through rational, discursive language alone.
Similarly, I think of the process of making as a means of revealing alternative forms of knowledge. As practitioners, the knowledge we embody often resists articulation in the form of words, and I see the work of artistic research as an effort to express these forms of knowledge that are not easily apprehended through conventional intellectual frameworks. In this context, practitioners are uniquely positioned to contribute to the advancement of knowledge in ways that are not yet fully defined or acknowledged. This project, therefore, not only necessitates the development of new epistemological frameworks but also provides an opportunity to bring forth other forms of knowledge that have historically been overlooked or excluded by traditional academic structures.
Some of my favourite memories as a child involve going to the Ecuadorian mountains. When I was a kid, it was the sort of activity that seemed more like a chore than fun; there was much walking in an atmosphere that is low in oxygen. But when we got there and I took the first breath of air, the beauty of the landscape was suddenly overwhelming. Many adventures happened in these mountains, and I couldn’t imagine that in the future, they would be one of the things I would miss the most when I left the country. Years after, when I went for a visit, Cotopaxi was erupting. I could not miss the opportunity to collect some samples of that ash. I asked my uncle to help me, and we went on our way. Climbing an erupting volcano is an interesting endeavour to put it lightly; the ground shakes and growls from time to time as you make an effort to breathe with every step. I questioned my decision to be there, but the beauty was such that I quickly forgot. The specific ash that came out of Cotopaxi that week was very thin and easily blown away. The wind was not working in our favour as the new ash blew to the north face of the mountain, on the opposite side of where we were. On the way up, I looked for ash on the sides of big rocks as it would get some protection from the wind. I managed to collect a handful and it was unfortunately mixed in with sand. It will be hard to separate both elements for testing. On the way back, we stopped at the refugee and talked to the man in charge. He kindly served us tea and told us about his many years of experience guarding this mountain. I asked if he wasn't scared of the current eruption and he replied that his life passed in this volcano and he had no intention of leaving his home. In a way, I understand what he means; this land has a special kind of energy. I tell him about my undertaking, and he quickly remembers that he hasn't cleaned the gutters that week. We climb to the roof and luckily for me, they are still full of ash!
I started collecting pictures and videos of water over ten years ago. Most of these have never seen the light of day. I know there will come a day to put them to use. I believe data in this sense has a life of its own.
On this day, I took a group of fellow artists and friends from the residency to hike to the hot river in Hveragerði, Iceland. To begin the trip we follow the trail through the town from the bus station to the zone where the clays were collected. This location is not a touristy spot but a side of a road where there seem to be pipes to collect hot water for usage on the a nearby pool. The area is a grassy zone beside a road that seems to not have much other functionality. There are several hot mud pools around. The biggest being about a meter in diameter. Most of the mud pools are very small in size with some being just a steam hole. The diversity of colours in this area is impressive. All the mud pools are slightly different tones varying from gray to burnt siennas, burgundy, and ocre.
When I visited the area again, I had the fortune to meet a tour guide who told us that the geothermal area had just appeared 8 years ago. That is the steam and mud pools. The location is very close to one of Iceland's biggest geothermal energy plants. It must be just a few kilometres away which is why this area pop-out nearby.
To collect the samples I used a metal spoon taped to an aluminum rod to not get too close to the boiling areas. The samples were placed in zip-lock bags. They were not as hot as I previously expected. If gathered from the sides of the pools the clays are not hot enough to worry about burning. As I later learned, the chance of acid burns is high when collecting these materials. As I did not wear gloves my skin did suffer mild acid burns.
How do you call something that is already art artistic research? is the research artistic or does the art have to be more like research? As I think of my practice, these are the questions that come to mind.
In this text, I aim to define my relationship with the concept of artistic research, exploring its definitions and the possibilities it offers in the context of my practice as a ceramic artist. Artistic research is often an umbrella term for multiple practices. In this case, I use the term to mean research through the creative process as a practicing artist where the aim of the research is not just academic but also artistic production. As a practitioner, I approach it primarily from the perspective of how rather than what, exploring forms of knowledge that are embodied rather than conceptual.
In my work, artistic research in ceramic practice operates in two key ways: research through art and research for art, drawing from Christopher Frayling’s (1993) concepts of research forthrough and into art. The research for art focuses on the material and technical aspects of my work. It involves analyzing and testing various non-organic components, such as clays, oxides, fluxes, and additives. This kind of research is essential because it expands the range of tools and materials I can use to create ceramic objects. It also contributes to the development of new possibilities within the practice, enhancing both my own work and the collective knowledge of the ceramics community. By exploring resources available from a specific region or material context, this research provides a deeper understanding that can be shared with other practitioners, thus advancing the field. Moreover, I don't see doing research for the art practice as separate from the artistic process but as a means of enriching the knowledge base of the practitioner. Otherwise explained, research for the arts can be separate from the art-making process as a way of understanding materials but when is done within the artistic process the definition of the article for is better understood as through since it exists in the same entanglement as the creative process.
I find research through art to be the most significant aspect of my practice. I view the creative process as a form of meaning-making—an embodied process through which knowledge is generated. In this sense, my artistic practice is less about seeking abstract, rational truths and more about engaging with materials in a direct, hands-on way. The knowledge that emerges is closely tied to the act of making, grounded in sensory experience and intuition. This type of research is less about producing answers and more about engaging with questions of how and why through the medium of clay. It is a form of knowledge that is lived and experienced in the moment of creation, echoing the concept of embodied knowledge that arises through action. For me, this means engaging in research as a practicing artist, where the goal is not only academic inquiry but also artistic production. This approach positions the creative process itself as a key site of knowledge production, where meaning emerges through active engagement with materials, actions, and contexts.
For me, this approach also involves thinking-in-movement (Springgay and Truman 2018, p. 204) a dynamic mode of engagement where the research process itself guides the methods. By allowing the research to unfold and dictate its own direction, I aim to guide my practice toward investigating situated knowledge, which is inherently tied to specific contexts and conditions. This concept aligns with the idea that knowledge is not static or universal, but is shaped by the material, social, and cultural circumstances in which it is produced.
In addition, the concept of thinking-in-movement is closely linked with the embodied knowledge of the practitioner. As the practice provides experience, the decisions made in the process are a compilation of the practitioner's reflections and previous knowledge. According to Donald Schön (1983, p.56), reflection-in-action occurs when surprise or unexpected outcomes prompt us to reflect interactively on the process and results of our work. In ceramic practice, this may manifest as moments when the material behaves in an unforeseen way, or when the final object defies our initial intentions. These moments of surprise are crucial for artistic research because they provoke us to re-examine our assumptions, refine our techniques, and expand our understanding of the materials and forms we engage with.
This brings us to the crucial question of the epistemological status of embodied forms of knowledge and their relationship to more rational or critical modes of inquiry. Specifically, how does the material-performative knowledge—embodied through the act of making—interact with rational-discursive knowledge, which is grounded in theoretical or conceptual thinking? Borgdorff (2012, p. 161) distinguishes between these two forms of knowledge: the conceptual knowledge associated with scientific inquiry, where knowledge is derived from abstract concepts, and the non-conceptual form of knowledge present in artistic practice, which articulates pre-reflective content. This content, according to Borgdorff, involves a form of thinking that is enacted in, through, and with art.
In a similar vein, Michael Schwab (2023) describes ways in which these two types of knowledge can converge in an interdisciplinary approach described as "post-conceptual." Schwab describes this framework as research that uses methodological triangulation of conceptual and non-conceptual forms of knowledge in order to explore research from multiple perspectives. However, he also emphasizes that the very nature of these forms of knowledge may rest on underlying presuppositions that are not equally shared between disciplines. This raises an important question: if these presuppositions differ significantly, what can be considered acceptable knowledge in the resulting interdisciplinary dialogue? In my view, it is essential to regard artistic research as a proposition for emerging forms of knowledge that are both tentative and transformative, recognizing not only their potential but also their inherent problems and limitations.
Moreover, the way in which different types of knowledge intersect, agree, or contradict one another offers valuable opportunities to advance our understanding. The interplay of these contradictions, far from being a hindrance, can be seen as a productive force that opens up new avenues for insight. This approach, which embraces contradiction as a methodological tool, is already well-known in artistic practice. I think that it can also be employed within artistic research to uncover epistemic gaps or vacuums, revealing areas of knowledge that might otherwise remain obscured. In this sense, these forms of knowledge should not be viewed as separate or isolated; rather, they are deeply interconnected. The embodied experiences gained through making—whether in ceramics, performance, or other forms—can challenge and refine cognitive understandings. Conversely, theoretical reflections can enrich and expand the meanings derived from material practices. Together, these forms of knowledge can create a dynamic, reciprocal relationship that deepens our understanding of both the material and conceptual dimensions of the research process.
I keep learning so much from water. The patterns it makes influence my aesthetics and the way it behaves informs my processes. How does it move? How does it sculpt? How does it paint?
It is difficult not to think of the sublime when visiting Iceland. At every step of the way, the land feels so full of energy and life. It immediately makes me feel at home, as it reminds me of all the volcanic energy around me as I grew up. Living in the Andes, you get used to constant eruptions, falling ashes, earthquakes and other manifestations of our living planet. After I left, I even missed the smell of sulphur.