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Toward responsive participatory art museum practices Lenz Kothe, Elizabeth (Elsa) 2019

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TOWARD RESPONSIVE PARTICIPATORY ART MUSEUM PRACTICESbyElizabeth (Elsa) Lenz KotheB.A., Macalester College, 2000M.A., The University of Arizona, 2005A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFDOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHYinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES(Curriculum Studies)THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA(Vancouver)April 2019© Elizabeth (Elsa) Lenz Kothe, 2019iiThe following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the dissertation entitled:Toward Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practicessubmitted by Elizabeth (Elsa) Lenz Kothe in partial fulfillment of the requirements forthe degree of Ph.D.in Curriculum StudiesExamining Committee:Dr. Dónal O’Donoghue, Curriculum & PedagogySupervisor Dr. Rita Irwin, Curriculum & PedagogySupervisory Committee Member Dr. Lisa Loutzenheiser, Curriculum & PedagogySupervisory Committee MemberDr. Michael Marker, Educational StudiesUniversity ExaminerDr. Margaret Macintyre Latta, School of Education, UBC-Okanagan University ExaminerDr. Olga Hubard Orvananos, Teachers College, Columbia University External ExamineriiiAbstractThis research explores the ongoing actions and commitments that make up responsive participatory practices at two community-based arts organizations—the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History in Santa Cruz, California. Two questions guide the study: “What are responsive participatory art museum practices and what could they be?” and “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” I engaged the guiding questions through a feminist research methodology that is informed by post-qualitative and arts-based methodologies and methods. This methodology was developed as I responded to research questions and data in production, and as I thought closely with scholars and their writings, especially Elizabeth Ellsworth’s (2005) Places of Learning: Media, Architecture, Pedagogy. Methods used to address my research questions included research conversations—some of which took place while walking—arts-based mapping, and narrative writing.Drawing on art, education, and museum scholarship, my understanding is that responsive participatory art museum practices embrace multiple commitments, including: sharing the authority of questions, interactions, and knowledge production between museum staff, collaborators, public audiences, and participants; sharing spaces and collections within museums and with the communities in which museums exist; and committing to ongoing, respectful collaborations and relationships with community members and collaborating organizations and individuals. In these responsive practices, works of art, museum objects, and carefully designed experiences and projects are dialogical points of encounter that provoke a proliferation of responses, which in turn precipitate transformational movements that are subtle, are not pre-determined, and impact individuals and communities in a relational manner. Education within responsive participatory art museum practices is an ongoing process of creating the conditions for potential learning through everyday practices. Embedded in responsive participatory practices is the expectation that change will occur as a result of taking part in museum programs, projects, and experiences. Mutual transformation in responsive participatory practices emphasizes that these potential changes are not one-sided; changes occur for participants and audiences, as well as for museum staff, systems, and practices.ivLay SummaryThis research explores what responsive participatory art museum practices are at two community-based arts organizations—the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History in Santa Cruz, California. Two questions that guide this study are: “What are responsive participatory art museum practices and what could they be?” and “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” Responsive participatory art museum practices are collaborative practices that emphasize respectful, ongoing relationships with individuals and organizations within museums’ communities, and that take place through and with works of art, museum objects, projects, and experiences. Change is possible for all those who take part in responsive participatory practices, including audiences, participants, and museum staff. Education in responsive practices is an ongoing process of creating conditions for potential learning and mutual transformation.vPrefaceThis dissertation is an original contribution by the author, Elizabeth (Elsa) Lenz Kothe. I conceptualized the research topic, developed the research design, and conducted the research with guidance from my research committee—Dr. Dónal O’Donoghue, Dr. Rita Irwin, and Dr. Lisa Loutzenheiser—and with support from individuals recognized in the acknowledgments. Ann Brusky, Amy Horst, Stacey Garcia, and Emily Hope Dobkin contributed to the content of this dissertation through research conversations. I was responsible for the analysis and writing of this dissertation, completed with the guidance of my research supervisor, Dr. Dónal O’Donoghue. This study required and received approval from the UBC Behavioural Research Ethics Board and was conducted under certificate number H14-00488.A version of section 2.2.3 has been published: Lenz Kothe, E. (2018). Inquiry while being in relation: Flâneurial walking as a creative research method, in The Flâneur and Education Research: A Metaphor for Knowing, Being Ethical and New Data Production, edited by Alexandra Lasczik Cutcher and Rita L. Irwin (29–57). New York: Palgrave Pivot. I completed the research for and all of the writing of this chapter.A version of section 2.2.4 has been published: Higgins, M., Madden, B., Berard, M.-F., Lenz Kothe, E., & Nordstrom, S. (2016). De/signing research in education: Patchwork(ing) methodologies with theory. Educational Studies, 1–24. I completed the research for my sections of this article and provided editing for the entire piece. The lead author for this article was Marc Higgins, and other sections were written and edited by co-authors Brooke Madden, Marie-France Berard, and Susan Nordstrom. Two additional publications informed my methodology and the content of this study, in particular sections 2.2.4 and 4.2: Lenz Kothe, E. (2016). Mapping invitations to participate: An investigation in museum interpretation. International Journal of Art & Design Education, 35(1), 86–106; and Lenz Kothe, E., & Berard, M.-F. (2013). Performing interpretation. International Journal of Education & the Arts, 14(SI 1.12). I completed all of the research for and writing of the first article. The conceptualization and writing of the second article was completed in collaboration with co-author Marie-France Berard based on our individually conducted research.viTable of ContentsAbstract .........................................................................................................................................iiiLay Summary................................................................................................................................ivPreface.............................................................................................................................................vTable of Contents ..........................................................................................................................viList of Figures ..............................................................................................................................xiiList of Abbreviations ..................................................................................................................xviAcknowledgements ....................................................................................................................xviiDedication .....................................................................................................................................xxChapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................11.1 Research Questions, Goals, and Methodology ...................................................................11.2 What are Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices? ..............................................51.3 How Did I Arrive at this Topic and Why Does It Matter? ...............................................101.4 Where I Focus and Why ...................................................................................................151.5 Overview of Chapters .......................................................................................................20Chapter 2: A Responsive Research Methodology.....................................................................212.1 Designing Responsive Research.......................................................................................212.1.1 How does my research methodology draw on, parallel, and inform participatory art museum practices and socially engaged art practices?..........................................................232.2 Data Production ................................................................................................................24vii2.2.1 Research sites............................................................................................................. John Michael Kohler Arts Center ....................................................................... Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History................................................................ What is exceeded by the research sites selected for this study? .........................312.2.1.4 Museum sites not included .................................................................................322.2.2 Research conversations..............................................................................................332.2.3 Walking research .......................................................................................................352.2.3.1 Walking as place-making ...................................................................................352.2.3.2 Walking as a relational practice..........................................................................462.2.4 Mapping.....................................................................................................................542.2.5 Response data ............................................................................................................612.2.6 Documents .................................................................................................................632.3 Data Analysis alongside Data Production ........................................................................632.3.1 Analyzing data from walking conversations .............................................................642.3.2 Research conversation transcription ..........................................................................652.3.3 Data analysis during transcription .............................................................................672.3.4 Subsequent rounds of data analysis and production ..................................................692.3.5 What questions did I ask of the data and what questions did the data ask of me? ....74Chapter 3: What Questions and Commitments Did I Bring to the Data? .............................763.1 How Do I Understand the Relationship between Participatory Art Museum Practices and Museum Educational Transfer Models? ....................................................................................763.2 How Are Learning and Pedagogy Conceptualized in this Study?....................................78viii3.2.1 Why Ellsworth’s Places of Learning?.......................................................................783.2.2 Pedagogical address and pedagogical force ..............................................................803.2.3 Pedagogical pivot point and pedagogical hinge ........................................................823.2.4 Pedagogical potential.................................................................................................833.2.5 Mutually transformative learning ..............................................................................853.3 How is Education Conceptualized in this Study?.............................................................863.3.1 Education as responsive, relational, and potential.....................................................863.3.2 Education as creating the conditions for learning......................................................883.3.3 How is knowledge addressed in thinking about education in responsive participatory art museum practices?............................................................................................................903.4 What Understandings of Community Are Utilized in This Study?..................................923.4.1 The potential community...........................................................................................923.4.2 Naming community ...................................................................................................933.4.3 Communities of care and the dark side of community ..............................................943.4.4 Thinking the potential community as responsibility to others...................................96Chapter 4: Education as Creating the Conditions....................................................................994.1 Creating Educational Conditions......................................................................................994.1.1 Creating the conditions as a good-enough holding environment ............................1064.2 Daily Practices ................................................................................................................1074.2.1 Identifying, supporting, and practicing qualities of responsiveness........................1074.2.1.1 Diversity ...........................................................................................................1084.2.1.2 Relevancy .........................................................................................................111ix4.2.1.3 Embracing the unknown and discomfort ..........................................................1154.2.1.4 Permission and risk...........................................................................................1164.2.1.5 Responsibility ...................................................................................................1194.2.2 Asking questions......................................................................................................1214.2.2.1 Questions as mission-driven and driving the mission ......................................1224.2.2.2 How questions guide decision making .............................................................1264.2.2.3 Questions as daily, mission-guided practice that replaces models ...................1274.2.3 Shared language.......................................................................................................1284.2.3.1 Internally shared language................................................................................1294.2.3.2 Externally shared language...............................................................................1324.2.4 Decision making based on mission and goals .........................................................1354.2.4.1 Operationalizing goals: entry points, platforms, and “architecture of participation” ...................................................................................................................1364.2.4.2 Entry points as a public curriculum ..................................................................1394.2.4.3 Flexible and responsive program models: “not cookie cutter”.........................1454.3 Determining and Supporting Collaborators’ Needs .......................................................1474.4 Working Within Institutional Capacity ..........................................................................1504.4.1 Determining staff roles ............................................................................................1524.5 Identifying and Activating Spaces..................................................................................1534.5.1 Beyond museum walls .............................................................................................1534.5.2 Dynamics of particular spaces .................................................................................1544.5.3 Dialogue and space ..................................................................................................1624.6 Identifying Snags ............................................................................................................166x4.6.1 Education as always about schools and certain types of programs .........................1664.6.2 Community-based practices as marketing ...............................................................1674.6.3 Reciprocal relationships or transactions for organizational gain? ...........................169Chapter 5: Mutually Transforming .........................................................................................1735.1 External and Internal Processes Mirroring Each Other ..................................................1735.1.1 Staff relationships ....................................................................................................1765.1.2 Taking a collaborative stance ..................................................................................1765.1.3 Changing staff and staff roles ..................................................................................1805.1.3.1 With, not for......................................................................................................1815.1.3.2 Breaking down departmental silos....................................................................1825.1.3.3 Considering who is “at the table” .....................................................................1835.1.3.4 Staff belief in mission.......................................................................................1845.2 Time................................................................................................................................1845.2.1 “Infinite modal oscillations”....................................................................................1855.2.1.1 Taking time to build capacity ...........................................................................1875.2.1.2 Momentary time that is uncertain, undetermined, and flexible ........................1895.2.2 Time as relational ....................................................................................................1925.2.2.1 Ongoing relationships.......................................................................................1925.2.2.2 Networks of relationships beyond physical museum borders and staff ...........1935.2.2.3 Qualities of responsiveness that support ongoing relationships .......................1955.3 Mission-Guided Changes................................................................................................1985.3.1 The role of strategic planning in mutual transformation .........................................199xi5.3.1.1 Ongoing, mission-based practices that support mutual transformation............2025.3.2 Evaluation and assessment ......................................................................................208Chapter 6: Concluding Thoughts .............................................................................................2136.1 What are Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices? ..........................................2136.2 What Does this Study Offer, and Why Do Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices Matter? .....................................................................................................................2166.2.1 The need for spaces of dialogue in difficult times...................................................2176.2.2 The need for different examples of museum practices ............................................2196.2.3 Clarifying what responsive participatory practices mean among many kinds of participation .........................................................................................................................2216.3 Extending the Research ..................................................................................................222References...................................................................................................................................224Appendices..................................................................................................................................237Appendix A Toward Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices: Interview protocol and sample interview questions......................................................................................................237xiiList of FiguresFigure 1.1. Mapping of my ongoing understanding of responsive participatory art museum practices. ..........................................................................................................................................6Figure 1.2. Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial, a John Michael Kohler Arts Center Connecting Communities collaboration, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, 2007. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center...........................................................................................................12Figure 1.3. Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial, a John Michael Kohler Arts Center Connecting Communities collaboration, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, 2007. Photo by Scott Kothe. ..13Figure 2.1. John Michael Kohler Arts Center, exterior. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.....................................................................................................................................29Figure 2.2. Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, exterior during GLOW Festival, October 30, 2018. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum..........................................................................30Figure 2.3. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015. ..............................................................................................................................................36Figure 2.4. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015. ..............................................................................................................................................37Figure 2.5. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015. ..............................................................................................................................................38Figure 2.6. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015. ..............................................................................................................................................39Figure 2.7. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015. ..............................................................................................................................................40xiiiFigure 2.8. Dance Exchange residency for the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2013. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center. ..............................................................................43Figure 2.9. Dance Exchange, How to Lose a Mountain, performed at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2013. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center. .....................................44Figure 2.10. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........47Figure 2.11. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........48Figure 2.12. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........49Figure 2.13. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........50Figure 2.14. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........51Figure 2.15. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.........53Figure 2.16. Hand-drawn mapping of walk at Maywood with Ann Brusky. ................................56Figure 2.17. Hand-drawn mapping of walk at General King Park with Amy Horst. ....................57Figure 2.18. Hand-drawn conceptual mapping of “education as creating the conditions” theme.58Figure 2.19. Cmap analysis of “education as creating the conditions” theme. .............................59Figure 2.20. Example of imperfect conversation from excerpt of transcription of conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015............................................................................................66Figure 2.21. Excerpt from transcript of conversation with Amy Horst; example of analysis while transcribing. ...................................................................................................................................68Figure 2.22. Excerpt from transcript of conversation with Amy Horst; example of coding and analysis processes. .........................................................................................................................70Figure 2.23. Example of Excel coding sheet used to determine larger themes and select conversation data fragments. .........................................................................................................71Figure 2.24. Hand-drawn mapping of “mutual transformation” theme.........................................72xivFigure 2.25. Cmap mapping of “mutual transformation” theme. ..................................................73Figure 4.1. Mapping of analysis of education as creating the conditions—chapter overview. ...100Figure 4.2. May 9, 2017 meeting of MAH C3 program. Photo by Meghan Puich, MAH Photo Intern. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz .....................................................................................113Figure 4.3. JMKAC strategic plan overview, adopted December 2015; courtesy of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center.........................................................................................................123Figure 4.4. Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History’s Theory of Change document, 2015; courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History. ............................................................125Figure 4.5. Mapping of programmatic entry points that formed a public, organization-wide curriculum during the Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts project, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Mapping prepared by Elsa Lenz Kothe for AAM presentation with Amy Horst, May 2013. ....................................................................................................................................141Figure 4.6. Mark Fox, Dust, installation view at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center...................................................................142Figure 4.7. Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts installation view at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Works shown by Deborah.....................................................................................143Figure 4.8. Pat Graney, House of Mind, rehearsal at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center...................................................................144Figure 4.9. Determining overlapping needs at the Kohler Arts Center. Graphic designed by Amy Horst and Kohler Arts Center staff for AAM presentation, May 2013; courtesy of Amy Horst and John Michael Kohler Arts Center. ...............................................................................................149Figure 4.10. Retired programs from MAH Engagement Handbook, 2015; courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History. ...............................................................................................152xvFigure 4.11. MAH Community Builder School Tour, Photo by Rachel Finn, MAH Photo Intern, March 2016. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/ ............................................................................155Figure 4.12. MAH Community Builder School Tour, Photo by Rachel Finn, MAH Photo Intern, March 2016. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/ ............................................................................156Figure 4.13. Patrons work in The Artery with ExAIR artist Kevin Blythe Sampson at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2014. Photo courtesy of ................................................................158Figure 4.14. Raising the Roof performance at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, a Connecting Communities collaboration, 2004. Photo courtesy ..................................................160Figure 4.15. Raising the Roof performance at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, a Connecting Communities collaboration, 2004. Photo courtesy ..................................................161Figure 4.16. MAH Subjects To Change Program, October, 2015. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/ .......................164Figure 4.17. MAH Subjects To Change Program, November, 2015. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/ .......................165Figure 5.1. Mapping overview of mutual transformation chapter and analysis. .........................175Figure 5.2. MAH “Theory of Change” document, 2015. Courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History. ...........................................................................................................................201xviList of Abbreviations4K: 4-year-old kindergarten AAM: American Alliance of Museums (formerly American Association of Museums)C3: Creative Community Committee at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and HistoryEx AIR: Exhibition Artists-in-Residence program at the John Michael Kohler Arts CenterKohler Arts Center: John Michael Kohler Arts Center, Sheboygan, WisconsinMAH: Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History, Santa Cruz, CaliforniaNAEA: National Art Education AssociationNEA: National Endowment for the ArtsxviiAcknowledgementsCompleting a project as large as the scope of a Ph.D. program, including this dissertation, takes what feels like a cast of thousands. I am sincerely grateful for all of the support, encouragement, questions, teaching, and childcare offered to me by the many people included in these acknowledgements, and the many more who are unnamed but appreciated, who have helped me along this journey.  I am immensely grateful to the participants of this study—Ann Brusky, Amy Horst, Stacey Garcia, and Emily Hope Dobkin—who generously shared their time, knowledge, and experiences with me to create this research. The important work that you all do every day makes the world a better place to live in.Infinite thanks go to my research committee: Dr. Dónal O’Donoghue, Dr. Rita Irwin, and Dr. Lisa Loutzenheiser. Thank you all so much for your generous listening, thoughtful questions and suggestions, and research and writing opportunities, and for sharing your insights and experiences with me as I worked through this study and the steps of the doctoral program. The time you have all invested in me during this program means so much to me. Thank you also to the university and external examiners who have engaged with this research in my dissertation exam. I especially want to thank my research supervisor, Dr. Dónal O’Donoghue, for your generosity, your insightful questions, and your patience, for sharing your love of scholarship, and for generally being a kind and caring person throughout this journey. Thank you to staff and faculty who have supported me in numerous ways at UBC. Many thanks to Basia Zurek, Saroj Chand, Alan Jay, Kalie Fong, Kirsty Robbins, Dr. Michael Marker, Dr. Sandrine Han, Dr. Samson Nashon, Dr. Peter Grimmett, Dr. Cynthia Nichol, Dr. Penney Clark, and Dr. Anne Phelan for all the scholarly and logistical support you have provided to me throughout my time at UBC.Sincere thanks go to Dr. Dania Sheldon for providing careful, thoughtful, and thorough editing of this entire dissertation.My gratitude goes to my colleagues and friends at UBC. To my research and writing group colleagues—Marie-France Berard, Heather McGregor, Brooke Madden, Marc Higgins, and Sam Stiegler—thank you for spending many hours thinking through challenging questions and ideas, for all the exquisite attention on my research projects, and for the joy we shared in xviiieach other’s successes. Thank you to Ashley Welsh and Andrea Webb for always being there to encourage me and to offer help with editing or with navigating graduate student life, or when I simply needed a cheerleader. Thank you to my art education colleagues—Blake Smith, Anna Ryoo, Kate Thomas, Joanne Ursino, Linda Rainaldi, Natalie LeBlanc, Adrienne Boulton, and Marie-France Berard—for sharing in the joy and challenges of making, researching, teaching, being a student, and moving beyond graduate student life. Thank you to Ash Shaw, Stephanie Anderson, Julia Ostertag, and Kate Thomas for your support and shared experiences as I learned to navigate motherhood alongside being a graduate student. I am especially grateful to Heather McGregor for your friendship, our many walking conversations, and your encouragement in research, motherhood, and beyond. Immense gratitude goes to Marie-France Berard for all of our collaborations, and for always being there with your perceptive questions, suggestions, and encouragement. Thank you to my friends and your families in Bellingham and elsewhere, who have seen me through this journey and cheered me on the whole way through. Thank you to Amy Chaloupka and Ken Hanna, Mallory Wilson, Ariel Blanc, Janel Erchinger-Davis, Jenny and Travis Tennessen, Leanna and Tate Wilcox, Bethany Axtman and Dean Crowe, Katie May Sharrow and Jamie Nichols, Kate Ansorge and Jon Kuta, Anna and Josh Palmer, Justine Pechuzal, Darden Bradshaw, Amy Horst and Kris Rusch, Ann Brusky, and Jamie McFarlane for motivating me to achieve this goal, for sharing your own journeys in your personal projects and goals, and for being kind and caring people in my life and my family’s lives. I greatly appreciate all of the mentors, colleagues, and teachers who have shaped my learning journey from childhood to adulthood and from student to practitioner. Thank you to my earliest art teachers—Mr. Wendt and Mrs. Schwartz—for providing time and space to explore artmaking and to learn what it means to inquire into my own questions. Thank you to Mary Hark, Ruthann Godollei, Joanna Inglot, Dr. Lynn Beudert, and Dr. Elizabeth Garber for your guidance and influence on my scholarly path. Thank you to Aurelia Gomez, Amy Horst, Ann Brusky, Dr. Lynn Jermal, Mary Jo Maute, Chris Brewer, and Barbara Matilsky for being inspiring mentors and colleagues. Thank you to Olivia Gude for planting the seed of an idea that bloomed as my doctoral program at UBC. I am especially grateful to Elizabeth Garber for our treasured walks in many places, during which you have inspired and guided me in so many ways. xixThank you to the staff at Generations Early Learning & Family Center for the warmth, care, comfort, guidance, and learning experiences and environments you have provided for my sons. Having compassionate people to whom I can entrust their care has been essential in making the time needed to complete this study and this program.I extend heartfelt gratitude to my parents and my parents-in-law—Margaret Lockhart, Jerry and Wanda Lenz, and Sharon and John Kothe—for guiding me to this point in my studies and for supporting me in getting here. Your encouragement, financial support, and numerous hours of childcare certainly made it possible for me to continue my studies through to this doctoral program. Special thanks to Jerry Lenz for fielding many, many questions about graduate school and career decisions; I am so grateful for your generous patience and honesty. Thank you also to my grandmothers, Wilma Lenz and Ruth Wollenburg, to my siblings and their families, and to my extended family, especially Karen and Fred Wollenburg, for providing examples of your own learning journeys and supporting me on my scholarly path. Finally, and most importantly, my deepest gratitude goes to my husband and sons—Scott, Maxwell, and Jonah Kothe. Having you there to cheer me on has provided the stamina and enthusiasm I have needed to sustain the long progression toward finishing this program. Thank you to Scott for logging many hours of dad duty and patient tech support, for talking through the minutiae of the doctoral program and this research project, and for the innumerable other ways you have supported me throughout my graduate studies. Thank you to the three of you for allowing me the time and space to complete this scholarly journey.xxDedicationThis dissertation is dedicated to three generations of scholars and potential scholars in my family: Ruth Wollenburg, Wilma Lenz, Jerry Lenz, and Maxwell and Jonah Kothe. It is my sincere hope that the perseverance and love of learning that my grandmothers exemplified when becoming the first college attendees in their families, and that my father demonstrated when completing his dissertation while co-parenting two young children, can be passed along to my two sons. 1Chapter 1: Introduction1.1 Research Questions, Goals, and MethodologyI guess that’s what I’m always thinking about when I look at, you know, projects or that.  . . . I think about the impact. [pause] The response, the response, that’s it. It’s not impact, it’s response, right? How are people going to respond? Will this move them? Will this make them think differently? Will this elevate them?(from a conversation with Ann Brusky, Curator for Public Programs, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, September 2, 2015)During my research conversation with Ann Brusky in September of 2015, she identified what matters to her when she works on community-based, participatory projects at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center. As Ann talked through what is important to her, she landed on “response,” which I understood to mean that how people respond to a project is what makes the project meaningful. Knowing that the project exists as an opening for people to respond1 by making an exhibition, dance residency, public art project, or concert meaningful for themselves is important in focusing on response,2 rather than considering a project and subsequent responses meaningful in one particular way. What Ann expressed about what she looks for in a project resonated with my own search for a term to describe the kinds of participatory practices taking place at museums and arts centers that are committed to working with their communities and dedicated to bringing community members into the processes involved in creating and producing 1 While some responses, such as stealing or defacing works of art, would fall outside the bounds of acceptable museum behavior, even these kinds of unexpected and unanticipated actions are still ways of interacting with a work of art and constitute a response, as Irit Rogoff (2008) discusses.2 Elizabeth Ellsworth (2005), drawing on the work of Peter deBolla, also discusses artwork as response (pp. 23, 79).2arts projects. Responsive participatory art museum practices3 are exactly these sorts of complex, community-based practices through which meaningful arts projects are collaboratively created. In this dissertation, I explore what responsive participatory art museum practices are at two arts organizations, and the ongoing process of working toward putting those responsive participatory practices in action at these organizations and in their communities, rather than attempting to arrive at one final, predetermined goal. Two questions guided my research: “What are responsive participatory art museum practices and what could they be?” and “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” Through inquiring into these questions, one of my goals is to identify the ongoing actions and commitments that make up responsive participatory practices at the two research sites in this study, including actions that may seem so commonsense as to be overlooked in their importance. My intention in inquiring into what makes up a responsive practice is to articulate processes that form the foundation of meaningful, community-based arts projects. In my experience, these kinds of processes often go overlooked or are misunderstood because they are complex and involve many intricate actions that take place with different people and across various places and times, which in turn makes them difficult to communicate and document4 (unlike the public products of responsive practices, such as exhibitions, dance performances, or public art pieces, which can be documented through catalogs or recordings). For museum and arts practitioners searching for how to work with community-based, responsive participatory practices, finding examples of how these practices are enacted is challenging because of the complexity of the practices, the difficulty of documenting them, and the challenge staff members face in trying to find time to document their practices. Therefore, one goal of this research is to 3 The term “responsive participatory art museum practices,” which I use throughout this dissertation to describe the topic of my study, is informed by Ann Brusky’s discussion of the importance of response, as well as other scholarship central to this study (Ellsworth, 2005; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a). In section 1.2, I discuss in greater detail what responsive art museum practices are. 4 There are examples of documentation of community-based participatory processes, though examples of thoroughly documented participatory processes are scarce. Three examples of practitioners documenting their community-based, participatory processes that inform this research are Nina Simon’s book The Participatory Museum (2010), Simon’s Museum 2.0 blog (http://museumtwo.blogspot.com/), and Cassie Chinn’s The Wing Luke Asian Museum: Community-based Exhibition Model (2006). 3provide a detailed examination of responsive participatory practices in action at two community-based arts organizations in order to provide information for practitioners seeking to use these kinds of practices.A second goal of this research is to inquire into how education can be understood within responsive participatory art museum practices, and what learning and pedagogy mean in relation to education in these practices. In previous research5 and during my career in community-based museums,6 education seemed to mean something other than education at other types of museums, and certainly something different than education in schools. Just as it was difficult to express the intricacies of a responsive, community-based art museum practice, it was challenging to articulate what is happening at community-based museums that makes education something that functions differently from education in other places; this was especially so because during conversations with research participants, education as a concept and goal and as types of programming came in and out of focus. In this study, I offer one way of understanding education, learning, and pedagogy in the context of responsive participatory practices and the commitments and aspirations that underlie these educational practices. Working toward communicating how education, learning, and pedagogy function within these responsive participatory practices is part of my previous goal of providing examples for practitioners to think about their work in new ways, and of offering other ways to think about how education can be approached in museums. This study was produced using a responsive, feminist research methodology (Ahmed, 2015; Ellsworth, 2005; Irwin, 2006, 2008; Lather, 2007; MacLure, 2006, 2011; Springgay & Truman, 2017; St. Pierre, 1997; St. Pierre & Pillow, 2000; Trainor & Bouchard, 2012) informed by post-qualitative methodologies and methods (Kuntz & Presnall, 2012; Jackson & Mazzei, 2012; Lather, 2007; MacLure 2006, 2010, 2011, 2013a, 2013b; Mazzei, 2004; McCoy, 2012; ), 5 My M.A. thesis was titled Community Connections: Opening Relational and Dialogical in Arts Organizations through Community Outreach (2005).6 My work at museums and arts centers includes: an undergraduate internship at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota; an internship and fellowship at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico; education and community arts positions at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin; and an education and public programs position at the Whatcom Museum in Bellingham, Washington.4and arts-based educational research methodologies and methods (Barone & Eisner, 2012; Irwin 2006, 2008; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; O’Donoghue, 2009, 2010, 2014; Springgay, 2011; Springgay, Irwin, Leggo & Gouzouasis, 2008; Springgay & Truman, 2017; Triggs, Irwin & Leggo, 2014). I consider this study feminist research in two primary ways, and through a number of smaller, subtler approaches. The first primary way in which I consider this feminist research is that I focus on the professional stories, experiences, and skills of four women working in participatory museum practices. I take seriously the conversations they shared with me as a way to conceptualize responsive participatory practices, and aim to share their work as leaders in the museum field with other practitioners. In this dissertation, I prioritize their stories through using extensive excerpts from our research conversations, and thinking about their conversations with and through the work of scholars (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012). A second way I consider this feminist research is through citational practices (Ahmed, 2015; Lather, 2017, p. 351). I purposefully think closely with the scholarship of feminist researchers, such as Elizabeth Ellsworth (2005), Rita Irwin (2006, 2008), Alecia Jackson and Lisa Mazzei (2012), Nadine Kalin (2015), Maggie MacLure (2006, 2010, 2011, 2013a, 2013b), Irit Rogoff (2000, 2002, 2006, 2008, 2010a, 2010b, 2011), and Stephanie Springgay and Sarah Truman (2017), among others. It was important for me to think closely with the writing and thinking of these feminist scholars to signal my commitment to feminist research, and in doing so I am influenced by Sarah Ahmed’s (2015) observation that “citation is feminist memory” (n.p.).7  Other subtler approaches through which this study is considered as feminist include the approaches and forms through which the data was produced and presented. In research conversations with participants, we blurred lines demarcating personal and professional practices when we spoke, for example, about our children or our personal journeys that led to an interest in participatory museum practices. Another feminist approach to this study was the manner in which I present our conversations in the dissertation, where I do not tidy up the messiness of thinking and speaking, but present the stammering and stuttering that occurred during our 7 I also responded to response data from Michael Marker and Heather McGregor about the importance of citational responsibility in signaling theoretical and personal commitments when considering my citational practices in this study.5conversations, (MacLure, 2006, 2011).8 Further, thinking with Elizabeth St. Pierre’s (1997) concept of “response data” (pp. 184-185) was another form of subtle feminist practice, through which I attended to how moments of invited and uninvited responses from those outside the study challenged me to think in different ways about the research topic.9 Additionally, I practiced what Patti Lather (2007) refers to as “exquisite attention” (p. 49), where colleagues and friends allowed me space and time to present research ideas in process and provided me generous and productive feedback and suggestions on those developing ideas. These kinds of subtle approaches and practices, among others, are part of how I consider my research within feminist methodologies,10 and are discussed in further detail in Chapter 2. 1.2 What are Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices? My understanding of what responsive11 participatory art museum practices are and can be is ongoing (Figure 1.1). While I identify and discuss responsive participatory practices throughout the dissertation, here I provide an overview of and context for these practices. Currently, my understanding is that responsive participatory art museum practices embrace multiple commitments, including: sharing the authority of questions, interactions, and knowledge production between museum staff, collaborators, public audiences, and participants; sharing spaces and collections within museums and with the communities in which museums exist; and committing to ongoing, respectful collaborations and relationships with community members and collaborating organizations and individuals. In these responsive practices, works of art, museum objects, and carefully designed experiences and projects are dialogical points of encounter that provoke a proliferation of responses, which in turn precipitate transformational movements that are subtle, are not pre-determined, and impact individuals and communities in a relational manner (American Association of Museums, 2002; Agamben, 1990/1993; Bishop, 8 My approach to research conversations and how they are presented is discussed further in section My approach to using response data is discussed in further detail in section While the modes and approaches I describe are specific to the feminist research methodology enacted in this study, I would not argue that these approaches and practices are exclusive to women or to feminist researchers.11 Responsiveness is described in further detail throughout this dissertation, especially in section 4.2.1 on qualities of responsiveness.62004, 2012; Bourriaud, 1998/2002; Chinn, 2006; Ellsworth, 2005; Garoian, 2001; Gogan, 2007; Gosselin, 2013, 2014; Graham, 2010; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Helguera, 2011; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; Kalin, 2016; Kester, 2004; McKay & Monteverde, 2003; O’Donoghue, 2010; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a; Simon, 2010).Figure 1.1. Mapping of my ongoing understanding of responsive participatory art museum practices.Responsive participatory art museum practices are worthy of study for multiple reasons. These practices help staff members at museums, arts centers, and other arts organizations to address needs in their communities, including by making time and space for people to come together across their differences through inviting dialogue initiated by programs and exhibitions. Responsive practices help create spaces for artists and community members to come together to create works of art—including dance performances, poetry marathons, exhibitions, musical performances, and public works of visual art—and creating together allows people to consider how art can fit into daily life. Responsive practices also provide processes through which difficult issues can be addressed in meaningful ways through of arts programming, again inviting conversation so that diverse groups of people can come together across their differences.Interwoven with participatory art museum practices are the same types of forces, such as 7political interests and social media, that drive participatory practices in society generally. Political interests (Kalin, 2015, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015), commercial and economic forces (Beech, 2010; Krauss, 1990; Mathur, 2005), and the expansion of social media in public life (Adair, Filene, & Koloski, 2011; Jenkins et al., 2009) are some of the aspects entangled with these practices—for instance, as an impetus to move towards participatory practices, or as modes through which these practices are realized. Though in this study I do not go into the larger context of political, economic, and social participation, the scholarship I draw on does make those connections in detailed ways (Beech, 2010; Bishop, 2004; Graham, 2010; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Kalin, 2015, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015; Mathur, 2005; Rogoff, 2008). Instead, my research inquires into a specific type of responsive practice that I am attempting to understand through this dissertation study.Responsive participatory practices are understood to exist within the context of participatory practices that can be described in multiple ways, such as convivial, antagonistic, and digital participation. For instance, “convivial” (Bourriaud, 1998/2002; Charnley, 2011; Kester, 2004; McLean & Pollock, 2010) museum and art practices are those where a welcoming environment is created to focus on bringing people together through the arts. In “antagonistic” (Bishop, 2004; Charnley, 2011; Haidu, 2009) participatory practices, provocation is privileged over making people feel comfortable. The provocation serves to prompt people to think differently about the world around them in general, and about specific topics relevant to the work of art and its community context in particular. Participation in the digital world (Adair, Filene, & Koloski, 2011; Jenkins et al., 2009) also informs the broader context in which people seek to engage with each other, including through art museum projects. These are three examples of the broader participatory context in which responsive participatory practices exist, though that context can be expanded beyond those brief examples. Responsive participatory practices feature several specific qualities, including slow transformational movements, shared authority, a commitment to collaboration and ongoing relationships, and rethinking the role of objects. The element of slow transformational movements rather than fast and sweeping changes is particular to the type of responsive practices I describe. Irit Rogoff (2010a) discusses her own turn to this type of slow interaction and changes in her chapter “Turning” in Paul O’Neill and Mick Wilson’s (2010) book Curating and the Educational Turn. She describes this kind of 8movement in education, saying “education is, by definition, processual; involving a low-key transformative process, it embodies duration and a working out of a contested common ground” (p. 39). This transformative process is slow and durational, and it involves thinking and working with others through complexities that are always shifting gradually. Giorgio Agamben (1990/1993) describes this transformational process as “the passage from potentiality to act, from common form to singularity, [which] is not an event accomplished once and for all, but an infinite series of modal oscillations” (p. 19). These infinite modal oscillations are ongoing, often unforeseeable, and at best engaging and in the interest of bringing people together in unexpected ways. These transformational movements also create change for community members, participants, and the art museum. Transformation does not move in one direction; instead, it is always seen as mutual (Ellsworth, 2005).The facet of shared authority also marks a documented shift in museum practices (Adair, Filene, & Koloski, 2011; American Association of Museums, 2002; Gogan, 2007; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Hubard, 2015; O’Neill & Wilson, 2010; Rogoff, 2010; Simon, 2010; Tepper & Ivey, 2008; Trofanenko, 2006; Weil, 2002), in which an authoritative institutional voice is not the only voice that commands a presence in exhibitions and programming. Instead, in the type of participatory practices I describe, topics are not selected solely on a closed grouping of curatorial, administrative, and donor voices; rather, issues addressed in programming might be introduced by a partnering organization, by a staff member not directly related with programming, or by visitor submissions on topics of interest (Chinn, 2006; Gosselin, 2013, 2014). Staff remain open to ideas coming from any number of people and places, while retaining responsibility for making programming happen. Shared authority is also shown through specific exhibitionary and programmatic moves, such as the incorporation of oral histories in galleries, or programs taking place outside of the museum’s institutional spaces (Simon, 2010). Shared authority is also demonstrated through interpretive approaches that are mindful of how visitors make meaning from works of art in multiple ways (Hubard, 2010, 2011, 2015).In sharing authority, museums recognize that questions and knowledge are not centralized within the institution and disseminated as seen fit by museum staff. Instead, they recognize that shared authority is a form of access, whereaccess . . . is the ability to formulate one’s own questions, as opposed to those that are 9posed to you in the name of an open and participatory democratic process, for it is clear that those who formulate the questions produce the playing field. (Rogoff, 2010a, p. 41; see also Graham & Yasin, 2007, p. 167; Rogoff, 2002, p. 26; Spivak, cited in Rogoff, 2000, p. 31)This interplay of questions from within and without the museum institution—which then creates a porousness that in itself slowly transforms how the institution functions as a space without solid physical, intellectual, or operational borders—is fundamental to responsive participatory practices. Collaboration and support for ongoing relationships are priorities in responsive participatory practices (Chew, 2002; Chinn, 2006; Gogan, 2007; Gosselin, 2014; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Simon, 2010). Collaboration is seen as a way of sharing authority by focusing on overlapping needs rather than solely the needs of the art museum or arts center. A focus on relationships indicates “a commitment to develop . . . forms of partnership and collaboration while being more responsive to the interests and needs of groups and organizations” (Gosselin, 2014, p. 108) in surrounding communities. Ongoing relationships are understood to ebb and flow as organizations change (Rogoff, 2008, 2010a), but the long-term nature allows for opportunities to develop projects that would not happen in other ways. Collaboration is also seen as a process in which partnering organizations enter and exit the collaboration without coercion (Graham, 2010); collaboration is not a forced process but instead benefits all those involved and serves the shared interests of the collaborators and the community. The role of objects in responsive participatory practices is reconsidered as well.12 Objects are thought of as points of encounter (Bourriaud, 2002). This encounter is a moment when a visitor arrives at an object, sometimes alone but more often with others, bringing with them their own experiences and knowledge, in a particular space at a particular time within the context of events taking place inside and outside the gallery. During this dialogical encounter, the artwork, 12 While objects are part of the composition of responsive participatory practices, I do not examine the role of museum objects, including works of art, or the materiality of museums at length. However, I draw on theorists throughout this study who engage with new materialist thinking about the ways in which humans and non-humans are co-produced (Barad, 2007; Ellsworth, 2005; Garoian, 2001; Jackson & Mazzei, 2012; MacLure, 2013a, 2013b; Richardson, 2013; Springgay, 2011; Springgay & Truman, 2017).10the person’s past and present, and the context can come together to form an opening of possibilities that cannot be foreseen (Bourriaud, 2002; Garoian, 2001; McKay & Monteverde, 2003). The object is more than its physical presence, but its materiality also makes possible departures into conversations and questions (O’Donoghue, 2009, 2010)—or simply a moving on to something else—that are not possible without that museum object. Ellsworth (2005) explains “a transitional object becomes pedagogical when we use it to discover and creatively work and play at our own limits as participants in the world” (p. 79). Ellsworth (2005) further observes that objects are both “real and imagined” and their materiality makes possible transitional movement “into the virtual space between inner realities and outer realities” (p. 79). Museum experiences in the form of programmatic events can also be seen as dialogical points of encounter, or “flexible platforms” (Tallant, 2010, p. 187), which often, though not always, spring from some aspect of objects on display in galleries. In this way, the careful selection of objects and designing of programmatic experiences are seen as potentialities in which something may or may not happen (Agamben, 1990/1993), but the presence of the object or experience is what forms that potentiality.This brief overview of responsive participatory art museum practices serves to orient readers to my research topic. I discuss responsive participatory practices in greater detail throughout the dissertation.1.3 How Did I Arrive at this Topic and Why Does It Matter? Working with responsive participatory practices at the Kohler Arts Center to create the Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans MemorialKeej13 and I stand side by side, gluing down triangular tiles and colorful, wavy pieces of glass. Following the patterns designed by collaborating artists, we slowly and methodically create the abstracted landscape background for a mosaic panel. We leave spaces for the larger tiles that feature drawings by local students and area artists. Narrating the journey of thousands of Hmong refugees who fled from persecution following the Secret War, these mosaic panels will 13 Keej is a pseudonym. 11be part of the first memorial to the veterans of that war. Though the images are drawn from stories told by neighbors and family members, they are still generalized. Curious about specific experiences, I ease into conversation while working with Keej. He tells me about the hostilities he faced when resettling in the Midwest, visits to his far-flung family members, and his efforts to educate neighbors about the refugee flight of his family and friends, one neighbor at a time. Perhaps because we are both bound together by our organizational roles in this project, perhaps because we have a moment together when our hands are busy but my mind is full of questions, or perhaps because the narratives of the mosaics evoke questions about Keej’s personal narrative, the stories flow, and an opportunity to learn more about each other lays the foundation for mutual exchange. The John Michael Kohler Arts Center became part of this project in conversation with their long-term community partners, the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association and UW-Sheboygan. Leaders at these two organizations were making plans for the Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial, but they reached a challenging point in the project where they needed help with organizing the creation of the mosaics that had been planned as a feature along the entire outside of the memorial. Realizing that staff at the Kohler Arts Center had the skills and experience needed to make the mosaics a reality, Kohler Arts Center staff quickly took on the project of hiring lead artists, sourcing materials for the glass mosaics, bringing in volunteer participants to help create the mosaics, arranging for school groups and community members’ drawings to be transferred to tiles, and overseeing the creation and installation of the mosaic panels. Through the collaborative work of the Kohler Arts Center, the Hmong Mutual Assistance Association, and UW-Sheboygan, as well as nearly 450 other volunteer participants, the mosaics were completed and installed in a public memorial on the shores of Lake Michigan (Figure 1.2 and Figure 1.3).12Figure 1.2. Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial, a John Michael Kohler Arts Center Connecting Communities collaboration, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, 2007. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.13Figure 1.3. Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial, a John Michael Kohler Arts Center Connecting Communities collaboration, Sheboygan, Wisconsin, 2007. Photo by Scott Kothe.14Through previous work and research, I have formed a commitment to community-based, participatory art museum practices. This commitment developed because I saw the meaningful impact of inviting and welcoming a diverse array of people with all kinds of experiences and backgrounds into museum projects, such as residencies, classes, exhibitions, festivals, and performances. The example I share in the narrative above about the Lao, Hmong, and American Veterans Memorial is one of these projects. Museums are enriched through inviting community members into their processes of developing programs; programmatic content is enriched when others bring their experiences into that content; and community members’ lives are enriched because of these museum projects.  An interest in community-based, participatory work has grown in the museum field previous to and during the timeframe in which I worked in museums and conducted previous research (Adair, Filene, & Koloski, 2011; American Association of Museums, 2002; Chinn, 2006; Garoian, 2001; Gogan, 2007; Golding & Modest, 2013; Gosselin, 2013, 2014; Hein, 2006; Kalin, 2015, 2016; Karp, Kreamer, & Lavine, 1992; Kundu & Kalin, 2015; McKay & Monteverde, 2003; McLean & Pollock, 2010; O’Neill & Wilson, 2010; Pitman & Hirzy, 2004; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a, 2010b; Simon, 2010, 2016; Tepper & Ivey, 2008). Similarly, a rich body of scholarship on participatory and socially engaged art practices has developed since the 1990s (Billing, Lind, & Nilsson, 2007; Bishop, 2004, 2006, 2012; Bourriaud, 1998/2002; Charnley, 2011; Finkelpearl, 2013; Frieling, 2008; Gablik, 1991; Helguera, 2011; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; Jackson, 2011; Kester, 2004, 2011; Lacy, 1995; Thompson, 2012). In this proliferation of interest in participation, it is clear that museum practitioners, administrators, funders, artists, and other cultural workers are trying to find ways to extend and change the functions of art museums—as well as other museums and arts organizations—for all people, including those who have historically been excluded from participating in museums (American Association of Museums, 2002; Gaither, 1992; Simon, 2010; Weil, 1999, 2002). However, in this proliferation, many types of museum practices were and are being included under the umbrella of “participation,” though some of these practices might be seen as contradictory to the goals of community-based museum work (Beech, 2010; Graham, 2010; Kalin, 2015, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a). 15As I stated previously, one goal of this research is to document and communicate the complex actions that take place in community-based museums and arts centers that are using responsive participatory art museum practices. This goal in part serves to differentiate these responsive practices from other types of participation in museums that may have veiled self-serving purposes (Kalin, 2015, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015). I share a concern voiced by research participants, that all too often, those who make decisions at museums (such as staff, administration, board members, or funders), as well as those who realize projects at museums (such as curators, educators, and artists), see participatory practices as something they can simply test out for a while, or can easily put into place just by saying they are a participatory or community-based museum. The kinds of actions, processes, and commitments that form a responsive participatory art museum practice, which I discuss in this dissertation, require long-term commitments to community, a sense of responsibility for others in one’s community (Appiah, 2006; Noddings, 1996), as well as a commitment to the challenges and joys that come with engaging in complex community-based, responsive practices. To put it simply, community-based work is not easy, and it may not align with every museum’s mission. However, through this dissertation study, I illustrate the ways in which one museum and one arts center undertake this challenging work, to support the work of other museums and arts organizations that seek to engage community-based practices. These goals are informed by my observation that there is rarely enough time for practitioners to write down or otherwise document their working processes, and also that there is rarely adequate recognition for the immense amount of work that goes into these community-based practices. 1.4 Where I Focus and WhyIn this study, I made choices about where to focus my research questions and writing, and about topics I would address to a lesser degree or not at all. Here I share some of those choices to bring readers alongside my processes of thinking and decision making in this study. In all of these decisions, I continued to refer back to my research questions to consider what choices made the most sense for addressing those questions, and also how those research questions might need to transform to address the research as it was produced.16First, I inquire into the question of what education, pedagogy, and learning mean in relation to responsive participatory practices. In this study, I found that thinking through the research data in relation to research on education, pedagogy, and learning was more productive than thinking about the topic in relation to curriculum. My choice to focus on education as a guiding concept—and learning and pedagogy in relation to education—was made in response to participants’ conversations, which included more extensive discussions about education, as well as in response to the use of the language of “education” in departments of education at museums more than the language of curriculum. I understand curriculum to be complex and complicated (Carter & Triggs, 2018; Pinar, 2012), that it includes more than museums’ planned programs and written materials about those programs (Aoki, 1993, 2004; Roberts, 2006), and in many ways, what I write about education, learning, and pedagogy in this dissertation is inclusive of curricular concepts.14 However, when curriculum came up in the data, it often seemed to lack detail or was mentioned in passing, which made curricular concepts peripheral to my analysis. Instead, focusing on the concept of creating educational conditions and on what pedagogy and learning mean in that context, and inquiring into the concept of mutual transformation as part of educational conditions in responsive participatory practices, offered more salient lines of thought for this study.Second, this study focuses on what responsive participatory art museum practices are and can be, rather than providing an extensive critique of other forms of participatory practices or criticism of data produced with research participants. In this study, I intend to offer a constructive analysis of responsive participatory practices and what these practices can make possible in communities, given that others have offered rigorous, thoughtful, and valuable critiques of some participatory practices (Beech, 2010; Bishop, 2004; Graham, 2010; Kalin, 2015, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015; Mathur, 2005; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a). Research questions followed the form of “appreciative inquiry . . . [that] focuses on positive experiences and narratives” (Kvale & Brinkman, 2008, p. 13), though challenges were still present as participants 14 I write in greater detail about my understandings of education, learning, and pedagogy and their interrelationships in Chapter 3, particularly in section 3.3.17discussed their work. I share some of these challenges, or “snags” (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012),15 where questions arose that caused me to think through some of the concerns shared in critiques of participatory practices.Third, in discussing what responsive participatory art museum practices are and can be, there are many actions that I describe as part of the larger practice that might be considered too obvious, too simple, or too minor to warrant inclusion in this study. I include these seemingly simple and minor processes, as well as what may appear to be commonsense observations, to illustrate that the importance of these processes is often overlooked. I argue that the kinds of responsive participatory practices described by participants and discussed in this dissertation are made possible precisely because of everyday actions that coalesce to form a complex process. In responsive participatory practices, actions and observations do not have to be complicated to be meaningful; instead, meaning is made through infusing large and small actions with the values described in mission statements and enacted on a day-to-day basis by museum staff members and community members. Overlooking the power of what may appear to be trivial actions or observations means missing how meaningful community-based practices are shaped through daily actions and interactions.16 Fourth, while I discuss many factors that are part of responsive participatory art museum practices, I do not discuss at length how individual artists, works of art in general, and the specific arts projects that have taken place at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center and the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History can be viewed as active participants in these practices. While I discuss certain projects and programs throughout the dissertation, I share them primarily as examples of the processes that make up responsive participatory practices. However, artists and works of art are integrated into nearly all facets of a responsive participatory art museum practice, as can be seen in Figure 1.1, where museum objects, works of art, and those who make 15 I use Alecia Jackson and Lisa Mazzei’s (2012) concept of a “snag” to address inconsistencies between theories used in this research and my analysis of the data, as well as specificities of responsive participatory art museum practices, including those that exceed my understanding of what responsive practices are. The concept of snags and how I make use of them in my research is discussed further in section 4.6.16 This kind of focus on the day-to-day, small- and large-scale actions and interactions of participants corresponds to Clifford Geertz’s (1973) notion of “thick description.” 18those works of art are part of the mapping of my understanding of responsive participatory practices. While artists, works of art, and other objects are part of the practices and processes I discuss throughout this dissertation and examples are mentioned throughout, I do not provide an extended analysis of artworks and artists as individual components of responsive practices. This decision was made for a few reasons. To begin with, the way I integrate works of art and projects reflects the way that research participants spoke about these projects. I asked participants questions that caused them to reflect across many projects and programs, rather than focusing on just one work of art, exhibition, project, or program. Therefore, participants tended to introduce specific projects, programs, artists, and works of art as examples of the processes they were talking about. Participants spoke to how works of art and artists shape their practices, but they also were clear that their ongoing practices were not limited to one specific project, artist, or work of art. Similarly, in wanting to provide a detailed inquiry into the processes and commitments that form responsive participatory practices at these two sites, I did not want to limit my presentation or understanding of these practices to the context of one specific project. Therefore, I also made the decision to present works of art, projects, and programs as examples of what may be produced through engaging responsive participatory art museum practices, without allowing those practices to be limited to one specific project or program. Though this decision may cause a reader to think that the forms through which responsive participatory projects are often made tangible—for example, through public events and exhibitions—are secondary to responsive participatory practices, that is not so; works of art and the artists who make them are an integral part of the elements that make up responsive participatory art museum practices and as such are present throughout this study.Fifth, in this dissertation, some participants appear more often than others; namely, Ann Brusky and Amy Horst of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center are quoted more frequently throughout the document. I would like to clarify for readers that the frequency or length at which participants are quoted in no way reflects the importance of the conversations they shared with me about their work. Indeed, all of the conversations were fundamental in shaping the concepts presented in this research, and the generosity of each participant in sharing their time, experiences, and reflections on their work is of equal importance to this study. However, my familiarity with the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, as well as my previous relationships with 19Ann Brusky and Amy Horst and the ways my conversations with them took place (discussed in further detail in Chapter 2), led to longer conversations with these two participants. I am grateful to all the participants for generously sharing their time and insights with me for this study.Finally, in this study I think alongside multiple scholars in making sense of the research data with theory (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012). While numerous scholars (Agamben, 1990/1993; Archibald, 2002; Bishop, 2004, 2012; Bourriaud, 1998/2002; Chew, 2002; Chinn, 2006; Garoian, 2001; Gogan, 2007; Gosselin, 2013, 2014; Graham, 2010; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Helguera, 2011; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; Kester, 2004; McKay & Monteverde, 2003; O’Donoghue, 2010; Richardson, 2013; Rogoff, 2006, 2008, 2010a, 2010b; Simon, 2010) have allowed me to consider this topic in different ways, I frequently return to Elizabeth Ellsworth’s 2005 book Places of Learning (as I discuss in greater detail in Chapter 3). My reliance on Ellsworth’s thinking does not negate the importance of other scholars included in this study; rather, thinking with Ellsworth allowed me a way to ask questions, shape ideas, and reframe thoughts on responsive participatory practices. In this way, I think with Ellsworth in ways that Alecia Jackson and Lisa Mazzei (2012) encourage. Jackson and Mazzei (2012) suggest “plugging in” (p. 1) as a process of research that allows for proliferating thought: We characterize this reading-the-data-while-thinking-the-theory as a moment of plugging in, of entering the assemblage, of making new connectives. We began to realize how plugging in creates a different relationship among texts: they constitute one another and in doing so create something new. (p. 4, italics in original) Thinking with Ellsworth’s writing in Places of Learning allowed me to make new connections, see data differently, read other theory differently, and create something new in my thinking and writing about responsive participatory practices. My intention in this study is to engage Ellsworth’s writing, along with others’, to consider what responsive participatory practices are and can be. Therefore, I do not invest time in critiquing Ellsworth’s writing; instead, I invest in thinking about the data with her writing and ideas, and considering others’ ideas alongside the data and Ellsworth’s writing to create new ways of thinking about responsive participatory art museum practices.201.5 Overview of ChaptersThis dissertation is organized so as to help readers follow my processes of producing the research, as well as my thinking about the topic of responsive participatory art museum practices. Chapter 2 describes my methodological choices, including theories and methodological writings that informed those choices. Chapter 3 reviews key theoretical questions and commitments that form a foundation for understanding central concepts developed in this study. Theoretical commitments are presented through questions that I asked of myself and of the research prior to conducting analysis of the data. Chapters 4 and 5 explore how responsive participatory practices are enacted at the two research sites (as described by research participants), considerations for how they could be enacted, and what education, learning, and pedagogy mean in relation to these practices. In Chapter 4, I consider what it means to create educational conditions for potential learning through the responsive participatory practices enacted by museum and arts center staff. I explore what education means in responsive practices, as well as what learning and pedagogy mean in relation to creating educational conditions in responsive practices. In Chapter 5, I examine the concept of mutual transformation in responsive participatory practices, considering both how mutual transformation becomes possible and how mutual transformation can be understood as a part of educational practices in responsive participatory practices. Finally, in Chapter 6, I offer concluding thoughts to this study. I consider why responsive participatory practices matter in a larger context as well as why this study matters. I offer a review of key points of the study and close with ideas for ways this research could be extended. With this introduction to my dissertation study, I move on to Chapter 2, where I discuss the responsive methodology used in this research.21Chapter 2: A Responsive Research Methodology2.1 Designing Responsive ResearchThe research questions guiding this study are twofold: “What are responsive participatory art museum practices, and what could they be?” and “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” I inquired into these questions through a responsive research methodology that I developed as I responded to suggestions, research questions, and data in production.During the course of this research project, I found myself bringing together various methods and methodologies. The responsive methodology I engaged utilizes a feminist qualitative methodology that is informed by post-qualitative research and arts-based educational research. In this in-between methodological space, I drew on educational researcher Maggie MacLure’s (2006) baroque method:A baroque method would resist clarity, mastery and the single point of view, be radically uncertain about scale, boundaries and coherence, favour “the unconcluded moment” and “interrupted movement” (Harbison, 2000, p. 9), and honour the obligation to get entangled in the details and decorations, rather than rise above them. (p. 731)MacLure’s emphasis upon attending to details, remaining open to new information, and allowing for, even inviting, uncertainty and humility are all elements that resonated with my approach in this research project. While perhaps not engaging the force of interruption and irritation that MacLure promotes, her proposal to “preserve, and indeed intensify, the complexity of the specific” (p. 733) and to embrace wonder within the research process (p. 738; see also MacLure, 2013) are approaches to research I attended to within this study. In doing the work, I found research conversations, including walking conversations, arts-based mapping, and narrative writing, to be the most useful research methods for addressing my questions, despite initially envisioning a different process for this research. Placing these methods side by side with existing scholarship and theory engaged MacLure’s (2006) 22“juxtapositional syntax”17 (p. 737), whereby methods of data production are pieced together and thought about alongside and through theory in order to “spark connections in the viewer/user” (p. 738). In MacLure’s juxtapositional syntax, drawn from cabinets of curiosity, data production and analysis are additive processes in which an openness to always learning something more is made possible by her suggestion “to add something to [the data]—an anecdote, artifact, reminiscence, drawing, etc.” (p. 738, italics in original). Because it was an additive process, the form of this research could not be known in advance.18 The direction of this study arose in response to fragments of data and scholarship that are folded into the research, often in response to suggestions from other individuals helping to guide this research process (St. Pierre, 1997). I shifted my expectations for the study as circumstances presented themselves, and I adjusted when others suggested possible alterations, such as changing my proposed methods from a multi-part group mapping workshop to focus instead on research conversations, including walking conversations, and individual arts-based mapping methods. This continual adjustment in my research plan highlighted the need for responsiveness in my process: the need to respond to what had fallen away from my expectations by developing a different data production or analysis plan, or the need to respond to what was produced in conversation with participants. Each move in a different direction held possibilities, but those moves were only possible because of the methods, conversations, questions, scholarship, and other elements encountered throughout the research process (McCoy, 2012, p. 763), as discussed further in this chapter. This was a slow process, one reliant on relationships and suggestions from others. And it was not an individual journey; rather, suggestions from and connections with others help formed the study’s methodological juxtapositions. The quality of responsiveness I describe here and in further detail throughout this dissertation is exactly what gave this methodology its shape. 17 My thinking about juxtapositional methods of data production and analysis have also been influenced by Ellsworth (2005, p. 13), Metcalfe (2015), McCoy (2012), Pinar (2009, p. 154), and the collaborative work of a reading and writing group of which I was a part during my studies at UBC (see Higgins, Madden, Berard, Lenz Kothe, & Nordstrom, 2016; Lenz Kothe, Higgins, Stiegler, Berard, & Madden, 2015). Further thinking about juxtaposition arose through response data (St. Pierre, 1997) from coursework, dissertation defenses, and conversations with colleagues.18 I have been reminded of this at various times by my research supervisor, Dónal O’Donoghue.232.1.1 How does my research methodology draw on, parallel, and inform participatory art museum practices and socially engaged art practices?This study engaged ideas and processes from participatory museum practices and socially engaged art practices through the ways I approached data production and analysis. To clarify, I approached the data as material to be gathered and produced19 in order to create something else from this material. However, I do not consider the production of this data to be art making, and I find myself resisting a methodological understanding of this project as arts-based educational research. I make this distinction to emphasize that while my approach to research is informed by arts-based educational researchers, artists, artworks, and exhibition practices, I did not engage a sustained artistic practice—meaning art making, critique, interpretation, or curating—in this study. I consider this an important distinction, as I made a decision to think alongside art rather than through making art. The artistic components I used inform the study, but are not an integral portion of the inquiry. I make this distinction out of respect for the complex and sustained aesthetic inquiry and artistic production that are fundamental to art making (O’Donoghue, 2014) and foundational to arts-based research (Barone & Eisner, 2012; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; O’Donoghue, 2009; Springgay, Irwin, Leggo, & Gouzouiasis, 2008; Springgay & Truman, 2017).With this caveat, I share some of the ways in which I thought alongside and with art in this study. The methods I selected—particularly in terms of attempting to approach verbal interactions with participants as conversations rather than interviews, as discussed below, and in terms of creating engaging walking practices and arts-based mappings—are related to socially engaged art-making practices and theories. In thinking alongside art, I am interested in the thought spaces that Pablo Helguera (2011) describes when he asserts, “Socially engaged art functions by attaching itself to subjects and problems that normally belong to other disciplines, moving them temporarily into a space of ambiguity” (p. 5). It is this “space of ambiguity” that was productive for me in this study. Similar to the productive nature of “not knowing” that art 19 The concept of producing or generating data, rather than collecting data, was introduced to me by Lisa Loutzenheiser, Dónal O’Donoghue, and Rita Irwin. While research data were produced with participants, I would also say that some of the data were gathered, particularly in terms of the documents.24educator Olivia Gude (2007) outlines, to educational spaces that allow us to attend to what we do not know (Rogoff, 2010a), and to processes of coming to know (Ellsworth, 2005),20 it is the productivity of potential, transitional space (Agamben, 1990/1993; Ellsworth, 2005) that I attempted to engage through thinking with and alongside socially engaged art practices. Further, I attempted to embrace a stance of reciprocity (Trainor & Bouchard, 2012) and relationality (Bourriaud, 1998/2002; Gogan, 2007; Graham & Yasin, 2008; Simon, 2010), which is an important characteristic of responsive participatory art museum practices. Janna Graham calls on Habermas as she describes relationality, through which museum staff members engage with the public as “mutual subjects capable of speech and action” (Habermas, cited in Graham & Yasin, 2008, p. 158). Similarly, my intent was to engage participants in a mutually respectful conversation where each person had something to offer and some experience on which to draw, though that respect, of course, can never be ensured. In these ways, through an approach that engaged ambiguity, uncertainty, relationality, and reciprocity, and that allowed me to think alongside and with socially engaged art practices and participatory art museum practices, I worked to think, question, and write my way into further understandings of responsive participatory art museum practices.In the following sections on data production and analysis, I describe in greater detail methods used to prompt questions and new trajectories of thinking about participatory art museum practices. 2.2 Data ProductionIn this section, I describe the locations in which this research took place, and the processes engaged in producing and analyzing data. This recounting is partial and provisional, as there are always research processes that exceed documentation (MacLure, 2006, pp. 731–732). My intention here is to bring readers alongside my processes of doing and thinking, rather than to give a comprehensive recitation of steps taken along the way (Lutrell, 2000). 20 I discuss further how knowledge functions in responsive participatory art museum practices in sections 3.2.2, 3.2.3, and Research sitesThe sites selected for this study were physical and relational: physical in their tangible existence and relational through the developing and ongoing relationships held with participants. The sites fit within chosen parameters and exceeded those parameters at the same time. They were accessed at a particular moment in time, but that time extended into the past of the selected site and into personal memory, as well as into the overlapping of past, present, and future as the sites were remade through representational processes (such as transcribing, analysis, and mapping). In this sense, the research sites were moving, shifting, and being made through ongoing activities and through this research study. The two physical sites I selected were the John Michael Kohler Arts Center (Kohler Arts Center) in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History (MAH) in Santa Cruz, California.21 At the Kohler Arts Center, Amy Horst, Associate Director, and Ann Brusky, Curator for Public Programs, participated in this study.22 At the MAH, Stacey Marie Garcia, Director of Community Engagement, and Emily Hope Dobkin, former Youth Programs Manager,23 participated in the research. The two sites were selected for their significant experience and contributions in the area of participatory art museum practices. By significant experience and contributions, I mean that other museum and cultural practitioners consider these organizations exemplars of participatory practice (Atlas, 2004; Finkel, 2009; Hendry, 2010; NEA, n.d.; Richardson, 2017; Silver, 2018); that staff members are part of ongoing national and international conversations about community-based, participatory practices in cultural organizations through board memberships, publications, consulting work, conference presentations, and other professional activities; that the organizations have at least five years of experience with developing organization-wide participatory practices; and that the guiding principles and mission statements of the selected organizations reflect community-based, 21 Participants at the Kohler Arts Center and MAH agreed to be named in this research and to have their organization names used in this research.22 When we spoke in 2015, Amy Horst was Deputy Director for Programming and Ann Brusky was Senior Manager of Public Programs at the Kohler Arts Center. 23 Emily Hope Dobkin held the position of Youth Programs Manager when we spoke about her work. She then held the position of Manager of Public Playmaking, and has since moved on from the MAH.26participatory goals. Staff members within these two sites were contacted either through relational connections (in the case of the Kohler Arts Center, these are ongoing relationships due to my previous professional experience at that site), or through contacting the director of the organization, who then suggested staff contacts (in the case of the MAH, I contacted Nina Simon, the Executive Director, who suggested I contact staff member Stacey Garcia). The community-based, participatory nature of each site is important to share in order to illustrate the types of contributions and leadership they provide to the museum and arts fields in the area of participatory practice. John Michael Kohler Arts CenterThe John Michael Kohler Arts Center (Figure 2.1) is a community-based arts center with over 50 years of experience in developing programming that is known for being responsive to community needs. It is a significant contributor to international conversations about art environment builders,25 self-taught and vernacular artists, contemporary craft, and the intersection of art and industry. In each of these areas, communities at varying levels are consulted, from communities surrounding art environments, to international communities interested in conversations about vernacular art, to the immediate communities surrounding the physical location of the Kohler Arts Center. In addition, the Kohler Arts Center has several thriving residency programs—for instance, Connecting Communities,26 Ex AIR (Exhibition Artists-in-Residence),27 and Arts/Industry28—that are developed in relation to community needs through specifically selected artists, curated concepts, and a network of community partner 24 While I share a brief overview of each research site, including various areas of community-based programming, I want to clarify that this is not an evaluative study of these programs.25 The Kohler Arts Center describes art environment builders as: “Art environment builders transform their homes, yards, or other aspects of their personal surroundings into multifaceted works of art that, in vernacular ways, embody and express the locale—time, era, place—in which each of them lived and worked” (https://www.jmkac.org/explore-discover/collections/art-environments, accessed August 25, 2018). 26 https://www.jmkac.org/explore-discover/connecting-communities.html, accessed October 25, 2018.27 https://www.jmkac.org/explore-discover/exair/about-exair.html, accessed October 25, 2018.28 https://www.jmkac.org/explore-discover/arts-industry-program.html, accessed October 25, 2018.27organizations. The Kohler Arts Center’s mission, to “generate a creative exchange between artists and the public” (John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2015)29 further highlights their core goals of fostering a creative relationship30 between the arts and public community members.The Kohler Arts Center was not only a physical site but also a relational site, by which I mean that it was selected due to my previous relationship with the organization through my work experience from 2006 to 2009; a research relationship through a case study of the site during my master’s thesis research and a research visit during a study on self-taught artists during my bachelor’s honors study; and ongoing professional and personal relationships with the two women who agreed to be a part of this dissertation study. In these ways, the Kohler Arts Center was not only a physical entity to be analyzed through its program structure and documentation about the site; it was also a network of relationships (Burrell, 2009) that, for me, extended into the past and through the present, and I anticipate will continue into the future. Santa Cruz Museum of Art & HistoryThe Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History (Figure 2.2) took its current form as a combined art and history museum in 1996.31 In this study, I am interested in an even more recent period, specifically from 2011 to the present, as May of that year marks the beginning of Nina Simon’s tenure as Executive Director of the MAH.32 Simon is regarded as an expert on participatory museum practices due to her professional experience as a museum director, staff member, consultant, and museum studies instructor (Hendry, 2010; Richardson, 2017; Silver, 2018). Further, her two books, The Participatory Museum (2010) and The Art of Relevance (2016), and her blog Museum 2.0 (2006–present) have been widely cited, and she has a well-29 See also https://www.jmkac.org/about/mission, accessed August 25, 2018.30 I discuss the ways in which the Kohler Arts Center and the MAH develop creative relationships with community in further detail in Chapters 4 and 5, especially in sections 4.2.1, 4.3, 5.1, and 5.3.31 Though the MAH became a combined art and history museum in 1996, the formation of the museum started in the 1950s (see https://santacruzmah.org/about/mission-and-impact/history/, accessed November 11, 2018). 32 Simon discusses this transition from museum consulting to her directorship at http://museumtwo.blogspot.com/2011/04/goodbye-consulting-hello-museum-of-art.html, accessed August 25, 2018. 28regarded public presence in professional, academic, and virtual platforms. Therefore, my interest in the MAH is guided by asking what happens in a museum being led by a key voice in the movement for participatory museum practices.33 The MAH’s focus on community is evident in multiple and varied ways in their public-facing information (such as their mission statement, program descriptions, and Nina Simon’s Museum 2.0 blog), as well as through conversations with museum staff. Their mission clearly states their commitment to community: “Our mission is to ignite shared experiences and unexpected connections. . . . When we are successful, our work helps build a stronger, more connected community.”34 The commitment to community is also apparent through community-based programs, such as C3 (Creative Community Committee)35 and the Subjects to Change teen program,36 and through community-based Third Friday events,37 which partner with and highlight Santa Cruz organizations. The MAH’s community focus is further illustrated through staff positions, which includes an Engage Team that oversees community and youth programming.38 This staff structure indicates a public-facing museum that emphasizes the importance of community through staff resources.33 Though I selected the MAH as a research site because of Nina Simon’s directorship, this does not mean that she is the sole person who shapes the community-based, participatory structure of the museum. In Chapters 4 and 5, I discuss how staff members work together with community to shape the MAH’s responsive practices. 34 https://santacruzmah.org/about/mission-and-impact/, accessed August 25, 2018.35 http://c3.santacruzmah.org/, accessed August 25, 2018.36 https://santacruzmah.org/connect/subjects-to-change-teen-program/, accessed August 25, 2018. 37 https://santacruzmah.org/events/category/art-events/3rd-fridays/, accessed August 25, 2018. 38 https://santacruzmah.org/about/contact-us/, accessed August 25, 2018.29Figure 2.1. John Michael Kohler Arts Center, exterior. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.30Figure 2.2. Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, exterior during GLOW Festival, October 30, 2018. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/312.2.1.3 What is exceeded by the research sites selected for this study?My research questions, “What are responsive participatory art museum practices and what could they be?” and “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” are marked by the particularities and specificities of my research sites (MacLure, 2006). The two sites exceeded the boundaries of the types of sites I had anticipated; the MAH is not only an art museum but also a history museum, and the Kohler Arts Center has a large collection and follows professional museology practices, but is an arts center rather than solely a museum. Therefore, an opportunity exists to think about participatory museum practices that exceed and become something different from traditional museum practices, and likewise to consider how museum sites that are more or other than museums offer different ways of thinking about being an art museum. As an arts center, the Kohler Arts Center focuses on creative exchange,39 in other words, creating rather than consuming (Simon, 2010). It encompasses performing arts series, residencies, and educational programs, an on-site preschool that is incorporated into the city school district, writing residencies and programs, visual arts residency programs, classes, exhibitions, and collections. The extent is varied and broad, and as Amy pointed out in our conversation, they were an arts center first, and a collecting institution second (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). The MAH is an example of disciplinary integration. In a regional museum, this is not uncommon. However, the intent to integrate these disciplines and to cross-fertilize thinking, learning, and producing about history and art was notable in conversations with current staff member Stacey Garcia and former staff member Emily Hope Dobkin. Though initially the MAH may have had disciplinary separation through designated exhibition spaces or programs that were divided into history or art topics, a connection between art and history is prioritized within the new MAH philosophy and mission.The question then arises: “What is made possible by the ways in which these sites exceed being art museums?” Maybe it is the opportunity for interdisciplinarity—including interdisciplinary study of the arts and an overlap between art and history. Perhaps it is the ways 39 See the Kohler Arts Center strategic plan and mission statement:  https://www.jmkac.org/about/mission.html, accessed on August 25, 2018.32in which people are invited to consider content. Possibly it is the relational way in which content is approached and shared, or the understanding that no topic is ever bounded and always has connections to other people, other times, other contexts, and that thinking about objects or information in a connected way allows for an entrance into thinking about participation. If a staff member is always focused on thinking about the connections between (Irwin & Springgay, 2008), rather than the defining boundaries of a topic, then they are also invited into thinking about the human, relational connections that can be made in their communities. Maybe, then, what exceeds these sites as art museums are the connections they make outside of being art museums, and that excess allows them to think and act and produce beyond the limits of visual arts, thereby bringing more back into the visual arts and further expanding education about the arts. In thinking about the specificity of these two sites and how staff members enact responsive participatory art museum practices, it is important to note that the ways in which the sites exceed being art museums are as important to these practices as the ways in which they can be recognized as art museums. Museum sites not includedThere were several other sites I considered for this study, some of which had staff whom were contacted, some of which I opted not to contact because I had enough participants or I could access participants’ work through publications. Other sites included: the Portland Art Museum, the Museum of Vancouver, The Wing Luke Museum of the Asian Pacific American Experience, the Serpentine Gallery, the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the Museum of International Folk Art, and the Anacostia Community Museum. Doubtless, there are others I could have considered as exemplars of community-based, participatory practice. I mention these excluded sites because their absence shapes the study just as much as the presence of the included sites, meaning that the nature of my assertions about responsive participatory art museum practices is shaped by the particularities of the two sites included, and that the types of participatory practices described might be quite different if told through the stories of other sites. However, I also note these other sites in an attempt to say that while the Kohler Arts Center and the MAH are unique cultural organizations that provide their own distinct examples of a 33participatory museum, they are also examples of a kind that can be generalized, to some extent, to this broader grouping of participatory museums (Agamben, 1990/1993). 2.2.2 Research conversationsWhat qualities transform a research interview into a conversation? How is a conversation different from an interview? In what ways does attending to conversation within qualitative research connect to qualities of participatory art and museum practices? These are questions I returned to during my study of responsive participatory art museum practices. I referred to my meetings with research participants as “conversations” rather than interviews, though it was hard to break away from the more traditional reference. I relied on initially calling the meetings “interviews” when communicating with participants, as that word signaled a discussion about their professional experiences for the purposes of research (see Appendix A). However, the quality of the space we engaged relied on an “emergence of the conversational mode” (Rogoff, 2010a, p. 43), meaning that it had a reciprocal quality, that there was less of a determined pattern of questioning, and that the questions and comments were responsive to what occurred during the meeting, as I explain further below. Research conversations indicate an informal relational space of exchange that aligns with the theories and art practices that informed my responsive methodology. For example, Helguera (2011) writes about conversation as part of socially engaged art, observing, “Conversation is the center of sociality, of collective understanding and organization. Organized talks40 allow people to engage with others, create community, learn together, or simply share experiences without going any further” (p. 40). As organized dialogues, the research conversations held over the phone, in person, while walking, and while sharing meals allowed me to have a meaningful exchange with these four individuals. Further, as responsive and reciprocal exchanges, the conversations were intended not simply to elicit information from participants but to share and produce experiences, ideas, questions, memories, and resources. 40 Here I understand Helguera’s use of the term “organized talks” as meaning any talking exchange between people that has in some way been planned prior to the start of the exchange. As such, a research conversation is a talk that was organized between myself, as the researcher, and a research participant.34In the conversations with each of the four participants, I went through my general research protocol (Appendix A), then shaped it around guiding questions I wanted to ask that particular person based on their background, career experiences and skillsets, programming and management responsibilities, and our prior relationship. My questions became waypoints in the conversation, locations that could be referred to as marking moments when a question was introduced and allowed us to travel in different directions without determining one set direction for the conversation (Kuntz & Presnall, 2012). The questions also marked moments when together we transitioned between topics and questions and moved along a route that was not predetermined. In this way, responsiveness was key, as the form of the conversation occurred because of what arose while we talked.Another quality of the research conversations was that there was always something left unsaid after a conversation ended. For me, a successful conversation left something lingering, something that popped into mind as a question I should have asked or a connection I could have made. These were important to me, as they indicated a level of involvement and attention to the person in the moment and to the flow of our conversation. Following the conversational lines that presented themselves meant that other lines of discussion were left behind. In our conversations, I preferred to see what arose out of coming together with another person around the topic of participatory art museum practices. The research conversations in this study became a space where what would take shape as people came together around a particular topic was unknown. There was a lot of stuttering and stammering and interruptions (MacLure, 2011) and talking over each other during these conversations. This tumbling over words and my own stammering and stumbles were part of the conversational flow, and I attempt to represent this in excerpts of the conversations throughout this dissertation.In walking conversations with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, they chose sites meaningful to them, and there we responded to the environment as well as the memories of past artist residency projects situated in those places. Aaron Kuntz and Marni Presnall (2012) explain that walking with participants “enables some possibilities while forgoing others,” including “disruptions [that] may produce new trajectories of meaning-making” (p. 6). The research conversations in this study, and in particular the walking conversations, allowed for a 35collaborative production of knowledge in relational spaces. I was interested in what paying attention to conversation made possible before, during, and after talking with a research participant; often, that was a responsiveness to what was shared in the act of coming together with someone else around a particular topic—in this case, around participatory art museum practices. 2.2.3 Walking research In this section, I share an overview of scholarship on walking as relational, creative inquiry. Here, I juxtapose the narrative with images and mappings from my walking conversations with participants Ann Brusky and Amy Horst.41 Though I do not explicitly discuss the images and mappings, I present these images alongside the written text in order to, as Amy Metcalfe (2013) states, “[draw] out the similarities, as we desire to make meaning from the space between the . . . image-events” (p. 5) and the text. Walking as place-makingWith the sounds of late summer crickets and cicadas creating an underlying layer of soothing noise, I set forth with Ann Brusky onto a path leading us into the Maywood Environmental Park in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Maywood is a city park managed as protected and conserved native prairie, wetlands, and forest.42 Trails ramble through six ecosystems, allowing visitors to experience some of the environments of this southeastern lakeshore region of Wisconsin (Figure 2.3, Figure 2.4, Figure 2.5, Figure 2.6, and Figure 2.7).41 These walking conversations took place between an able-bodied researcher and able-bodied participants. I describe here my interpretation of our experiences as individuals without mobility concerns, taking part in walking research, though in my research proposal and research protocol (Appendix A) I proposed other ways of moving through research sites in case a participant was not able to or chose not to walk.42 See http://www.gomaywood.org/, accessed August 25, 2018.36Figure 2.3. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015.37Figure 2.4. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015.38Figure 2.5. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015.39Figure 2.6. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015.40Figure 2.7. Walking path at Maywood Environmental Park, taken with Ann Brusky, September 2015.41During our walk, we meander past the main visitor building onto a wide, gentle path covered with a canopy of oaks, maples, and other deciduous trees. We slowly enter into prairie areas adjacent to the Pigeon River and then a wetland area, coming across stands of bergamot, goldenrod, and cattails. We stop to listen to the burble of the Pigeon River and watch the sun dance across its surface. We wander through the oak stands, pausing to notice a woodpecker working its way along a bug-filled limb. Our feet dampen as we walk through the dewy grass. We stop to dry them out a bit on a bridge arching over the river. We continue our walk, deciding against the muddy river path and electing to take the uphill trail with boardwalk sections slowly being subsumed by the ever-growing grasses. We rest in the shade at the top of the hill, where the prairie and the woods meet and a convenient stone fire ring offers itself up as a place to sit, talk, and wipe the sweat off our brows. A large hawk surprises us by landing in a tree, and we watch it survey the prairie and then gracefully fly away. We end our walk by visiting the prairie overlook, where the symphony of cicadas and crickets grows to a roar, but the absence of monarchs on the milkweed plants is notable. Easing our way back into the car to head to lunch, we enjoy the feeling of having moved and shifted with the landscape as we conversed. Ann selected this path for us to follow based on her previous experiences during a dance residency at Maywood with Cassie Meador of Dance Exchange, called How to Lose a Mountain (Figure 2.8 and Figure 2.9).43 Ann also selected this location in response to my invitation to be part of the research process. Specifically, I asked Ann: I am hoping that we can start off our conversation while walking at a place of your choice in Sheboygan. Ideally, it will be a spot that has been part of a meaningful or memorable community project for you (which is probably nearly all of Sheboygan at this point!). I don’t anticipate walking for our whole conversation, but it would be great if we could start off the conversation while walking. And if the weather isn’t great or if you aren’t in the mood for a walk, we can certainly find another spot to chat too. (email to Ann Brusky, August 25, 2015)43 More on the How to Lose a Mountain project can be found here: http://danceexchange.org/projects/how-to-lose-a-mountain/, accessed August 25, 2018.42My hope was that the walking paths that participants44 chose would expand our conversations in unanticipated ways. By this, I mean that the sites that Ann and Amy chose would have specific memories, stories, sensory experiences, and relational ties with the potential to be activated as we walked. Through this invitation, I intended to engage the qualities of walking research that Kuntz and Presnall (2012) attend to when they write about their own walking research:the act of speaking-while-walking has the potential to change the pathways between our thoughts, as well as how we articulate them, and conceptualizing the research process as a wandering may make us more aware of our embodiment in the research event, at whatever moment. (p. 5)During our walk, Ann highlighted memories of Cassie Meador’s residency, gave examples of the kinds of movement-based responses to the environment that were part of the residency, and reflected on how that residency, as well as other programs, play into the ongoing structure of community-based programming at the Kohler Arts Center. By the close of our walk in September 2015, the resonance between Cassie Meador’s How to Lose a Mountain residency, the walking conversation taking place between Ann, myself, and the environment of Maywood, and the backdrop of scholars45 who guided my thinking about walking research left me feeling inspired about different forms of responsiveness. Ann described how during the residency, Meador invited participants to create “moving field guides”—physical movements in response to experiencing, for instance, a frog hopping across a path, the sound of a woodpecker and turning one’s head to see it, or pausing and closing one’s eyes to listen closely to the burble of water passing over rocks. These movements were then repeated at the close of the walk and reflected the kinds of movements that were part of a full-length dance piece performed at Kohler Arts Center at the end of Meador’s residency.44 Ann Brusky and Amy Horst from the Kohler Arts Center were the two participants who selected sites for walking conversations. My conversations with Stacey Garcia and Emily Hope Dobkin of MAH took place over the phone.45 My selection of walking as a research method was informed by Ingold (2004), Irwin (2006), Jung (2014), Kuntz and Presnall (2012), Pink (2007), Ruitenberg (2012), Solnit (2000), Springgay (2011), Springgay and Truman (2017), Triggs, Irwin, and Leggo (2014), and Veronesi and Gemeinboeck (2009). This work was also informed by artists who engage in walking as an artistic practice, some of whom are documented by Horodner (2002) and O’Rourke (2012). 43Figure 2.8. Dance Exchange residency for the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2013. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.44Figure 2.9. Dance Exchange, How to Lose a Mountain, performed at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2013. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.45Ann and I accessed her stories about the Kohler Art Center spatially as we walked through Maywood, leading to the formation of a “place-as-event” (Pink, 2007) in our walking conversation. When walking brings people into relation with places, it is an active form of place-making. Sarah Pink (2007) describes this place-making process as “place-as-route” and “place-as-event.” She describes place-making in her method of walking with video thus: seeing place as a form of gathering provides us with a metaphor for understanding how, by making place through the creation of a route, things, persons, social encounters, experiences, discourses, reflections and more are gathered together as components of that place-as-route. As such the route can be seen as place-as-event. (p. 245)Place-as-route and place-as-event indicate a process-based understanding of ongoing place-making, attaching meaning to spaces in such a way that through sensory-based, relational wanderings, they become affective, storied, and personal locations. Likewise, Francesca Veronesi and Petra Gemeinboeck (2009) share the insight, “As stories unfold spatially, place emerges incrementally, according to the pace, rhythms and directions of the walkers’ moves in space” (p. 368). Further, in our walking conversation, Ann and I accessed what Rita Irwin (2006) has called “walking currere.” Irwin explains, “Walking gives us opportunities to freely contemplate, to look expectantly and with gratitude” (p. 78). The slow pace at which Ann and I wandered, and the responsiveness of our conversation to questions, comments, and the environment, allowed us this free contemplation. The mode of walking Irwin describes lies in between research, artistic, and educational practices (Irwin & Springgay, 2008), all activated in everyday movement that brought Ann and I into relation with the place of Maywood.When Ann and I walked together through Maywood, the importance of this place emerged as Ann stopped to describe the kinds of movements participants engaged in during How to Lose a Mountain. We paused, we reflected, we noticed, we conversed, we moved along the paths of Maywood, bringing with us memories and previous experiences to make Maywood into a place-as-research-event (Pink, 2007; Srpinggay & Truman, 2017) that late September morning. Stories became stitched to the place in my memory and were re-engaged as I visited the place-as-route two days later. Of course, revisiting this route only made the place differently once again, given that the weather was entirely different, my sensorial experience was marked by a change in 46shoes, and I was now walking with different companions, stitching new stories and memories to Maywood. This remaking of place through a walking conversation also highlights how who we are with forms the relational aspects of a walking conversation, as I discuss in the next section. Walking as a relational practiceAmy Horst and I return to a site with which we are both intimately familiar. General King Park lies on the shore of Lake Michigan in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and it is the site of Anne Wallace’s 2009 residency Sidewalk Stories.46 Today, Amy and I return to this site to walk slowly along the sidewalks we helped to create during this residency (Figure 2.10, Figure 2.11, Figure 2.12, Figure 2.13, and Figure 2.14). 46 More on the Sidewalk Stories project can be found here: https://www.jmkac.org/participate/connecting-communities/archives/connecting-communities-sidewalkstories.html, accessed August 25, 2018.47Figure 2.10. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.48Figure 2.11. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.49Figure 2.12. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.50Figure 2.13. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.51Figure 2.14. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.52The fog is thick this morning at the park, covering the lakeshore so completely that only the sounds of the waves, seagulls, and foghorn indicate that Lake Michigan lies a short distance away. Woven into the sounds of the lake is the ever-present sound of crickets and cicadas, whirring their way through the day. Amy and I start by walking along the central section of sidewalk leading to the building that houses an event space, picnic area, and changing rooms for swimmers. We stop to notice one section of sidewalk that has a large dash of red paint strewn across it. We continue, reading some of the sections, revisiting memories of the installation process, and noting sections where the images and words stamped into the sidewalk are wearing away under countless footfalls of park visitors. We exit from the sidewalk sections that are part of the installation, discussing future plans for the site to be installed when the city is able to prioritize the resources to continue the project. We edge around the north perimeter of the small park, returning to the central path, and ease our way along the south side. Our path stops at a dead-end road harboring a garbage dumpster and some unexplained caution tape. We turn around, settling comfortably on the picnic benches, talking over the sounds of the crickets and waves and the occasional sounds of a garbage truck methodically making its way along the city streets. As we walked through and sat surrounded by the Sidewalk Stories (2009) installation, the relational pathways formed through collaborations, collegiality, and friendship were present in my memories and in our conversation. The pathways of relationships formed between community members were also tangibly present through the excerpts of memories of this place stamped into the sidewalk by Anne Wallace, Kohler Arts Center staff, city workers, and Sidewalk Stories participants. The presence of these long-running relationships, one marked in a research exchange and one marked by the memories and making of place in sidewalk excerpts, emphasize the relationality in walking research (Figure 2.15). 53Figure 2.15. Walking path at General King Park, taken with Amy Horst, September 2015.Scholars who write about walking research explain that walking is always in relation, though that may be a connection between the researcher and other people, or it may be a relationship to the environment, to ideas, or to the history of a particular place (Pink, 2007; Ruitenberg, 2012; Springgay, 2011; Springgay & Truman, 2017; Triggs, Irwin, & Leggo, 2014; Veronesi & Gemeinboeck, 2009). Sarah Pink (2007) poses the question, “Why is it that walking with another person should allow researchers to learn empathetically about their experiences?” (p. 243). Multiple authors, including Pink, respond clearly that walking in relation opens pathways of coming to new understandings of each other through place-based, movement-oriented, shared experiences (Kuntz & Presnall, 2012; Springgay, 2011; Springgay & Truman, 2017; Triggs, Irwin, & Leggo, 2014; Veronesi & Gemeinboeck, 2009). While conversing with Amy, we drew upon our shared memories, filled in the blanks of other forgotten memories, 54called upon mutual connections to other people, and formed new connections through shared stories and observations about our work with participatory museum practices. This walking research conversation became an opportunity to develop an exchange that was informed by, and continues to inform, the relational practices that are a foundation of both qualitative research and participatory museum practices. Veronesi and Gemeinboeck (2009) describe how in their process of “stitching” stories to a specific site, they and study participants “[witness] a landscape that is not fixed” (p. 365). Instead, they note, “each of us performs a different exploration, thus developing a unique and almost intimate relationship with the landscape” (p. 363). In their research, relationships take place through elders’ stories accessed through audio recordings, and in specific places that are activated by the movement of the walker. In Sidewalk Stories, relationships are formed by reading the memories shared by a variety of community members living their lives in proximity. Returning to this site where we had worked together on initial parts of the installation of Sidewalk Stories allowed Amy and I to revisit memories that formed a connection to this place. Valerie Triggs, Rita Irwin, and Carl Leggo (2014) reflect on what a return to meaningful places makes possible, observing, “In tuning our skin to listen as we walked and became aware of a self creating new footprints on old landscapes, we revitalized the paths with new images, new sounds and new poetry” (p. 32). Walking inquiries invite attunement with the environment (Irwin, 2006) that is made richer through the layers of memories and subtle transformations that occur when returning to a familiar site, either alone or with others (Triggs, Irwin, & Leggo, 2014).  2.2.4 Mapping Mapping takes on multiple forms in this study and functions as both a data production method and part of my analysis process, which I discuss further in the analysis section. Given my understanding of participatory museum practices as contextual and place-based (American Association of Museums, 2002; Chinn, 2006; Gogan, 2007; Graham et. al., 2012; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Simon, 2010, 2016), I produced provisional mappings of the relationship between places, practices, and the people who engage these practices, as described further in this 55section.47 I also used mapping to understand relationships between, as well as to develop, concepts salient to this research. The arts-based mappings I produced were two-dimensional, though each mapping contained movement, either physical movement in a location, movement in thought, or movement in relationships. I refer to these mappings as arts-based because of my commitment to looking for examples of artists using mapping in their works of art, as well as looking for references to mapping in scholarship—including exhibition catalogs—about mapping in art-making practices, before looking to other sources on mapping, as I discuss further below.The first set of mappings I produced were part of the data production and analysis process following walking conversations with Ann and Amy in Wisconsin. After our walks, I returned to the sites to take photographic field notes,48 audio recordings, and short video clips as part of my mapping process (some examples are included above in the walking research section). During the transcription process, I produced hand-drawn mappings of our walking paths, including some details of spots that caught our attention during our walks (Figure 2.16 and Figure 2.17). Additional mappings were created during data analysis to think through and visualize my understandings of certain phrases and concepts (such as education as creating conditions) (Figure 2.18 and Figure 2.19). To create these mappings, I pieced together fragments of arts-based educational research, social art practices, participatory museum practices, and cartography, in a method of arts-based mapping. The mappings of key themes in the research were first hand-drawn and then recreated in the Cmap program49 for visual clarity (Figure 2.18 and Figure 2.19). In understanding arts-based mapping further, I used Rob Kitchin and Martin Dodge’s (2007) theorizing of emergent cartography to coax my thinking about and enacting of arts-based mapping in my research. 47 I began to develop my use of and thinking about arts-based mapping in previous research (Lenz Kothe, 2016; Higgins, Madden, Berard, Lenz Kothe, & Nordstrom, 2016).48 Blake Smith has developed and shared her process of creating photographic field notes with me during our PhD studies.49 More on the Cmap program can be found at https://cmap.ihmc.us/, accessed January 10, 2019.56Figure 2.16. Hand-drawn mapping of walk at Maywood with Ann Brusky.57Figure 2.17. Hand-drawn mapping of walk at General King Park with Amy Horst.58Figure 2.18. Hand-drawn conceptual mapping of “education as creating the conditions” theme. 59Figure 2.19. Cmap analysis of “education as creating the conditions” theme. 60In Kitchin’s and Dodge’s (2007) theorizing of emergent cartography, which draws on theories of post-representational cartography, they explain:[m]aps are of-the-moment, brought into being through practices (embodied, social, technical), always remade every time they are engaged with. As such, maps are transitory and fleeting, being contingent, relational, and context-dependent. Maps are practices—they are always mappings; spatial practices enacted to solve relational problems. (p. 335, italics in original) For Kitchin and Dodge, maps are process-based and are always being made and remade. Maps are creative, relational processes enacted in context-specific situations, such as to produce understandings of how a research participant described their museum practices within their communities and at their museum or arts center. Kitchin and Dodge (2007) explain that as such, maps are no longer ontologically stable; instead, they emerge through practices and thus “are constantly in a state of becoming” (p. 340). “Maps are of-the-moment, beckoned into being through practices; they are always mappings” (p. 343). These mappings can be objects, but they are also the processes of conceptualizing, creating, modifying, and relating those objects to the world around the mapmaker and map-user. While Kitchin and Dodge (2007) address a broad variety of mapping processes in emergent cartography, a method of arts-based mapping specifically draws upon arts-based education research practices. Dónal O’Donoghue (2009) challenges arts-based researchers to attend closely to art processes, practices, objects, contexts, and theories, and expresses an interest “in what lingering in these works and work practices might offer” (p. 354). Similarly, arts-based mapping invites me to linger in the relational connections between space, place, participatory practices, objects, theories, concepts, and people while drawing on techniques and processes suggested by contemporary artists, such as Deb Sokolow (www.debsokolow.com), Lia Perjovschi and her mind-maps (Nollert et al., 2006, pp. 132–139; www.christinekoeniggalerie.com/artist_details/items/perjovschi.html), and Kris Harzinski’s Hand Drawn Map Association (www.handmaps.org). Further, a method of arts-based mapping acknowledges that “making maps then is inherently creative—it can be nothing else” (Kitchin & Dodge, 2007, p. 338). 61There are multiple ways in which emergent cartography informed my use of mapping as a method and analysis process, including: drawing attention to relationality; the becoming of place and recollection of spaces through mapping practices; mapping as a practice and process rather than maps as stable objects; and the contextual, contingent, and creative nature of mappings. For instance, the understanding of mapping as a practice and process, which indicates that maps are never fully complete, resonated with my understanding of participatory museum practices and qualitative research as constantly being produced between collaborators (Gogan, 2007; Graham & Yasin, 2007; Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; MacLure, 2006; O’Donoghue, 2013). O’Donoghue (2013) considers the complexity of proximity in research relationships, noting the importance of “how we produce knowledge in relation” (p. 411). Further, MacLure (2006) calls researchers’ attention to “little irruptions of the ridiculous into the precarious order of the research encounter” (p. 736), where researcher and participant roles are upended and research processes are brought into question, producing something other than what was expected. Mapping as a creative research practice invited thinking about data production as ongoing, collaborative, responsive, and unexpected.The mappings in this research were contingent on individual, momentary experience, and were creative in their response to the question of how to share information about responsive participatory practices at particular sites. Understanding arts-based mappings in the context of mapping as a practice then highlighted that “[a map] is a co-constitutive production between inscription, individual and world; a production that is constantly in motion” (Kitchin & Dodge, 2007, p. 335). Similarly, a responsive participatory practice is often a co-constitutive production, therefore using Kitchin and Dodge’s theory of emergent cartography helped me understand further how mapping might allow me to think in other ways about my research topic.2.2.5 Response dataIn my research about responsive participatory art museum practices, response data—which Elizabeth St. Pierre (1997) describes as invited and uninvited data that come from others outside a study and that allow the researcher to see their research in new ways—came from all directions. Conference presentations allowed me the opportunity to share ideas in formation, by  thinking through ideas further alongside the responses of attendees. These presentations were 62often shared with committee members and colleagues, formally and informally, as well as through the reading and writing group that I was part of for four years during my doctoral program. This valuable feedback allowed me to, as St. Pierre (1997) says, “move toward the unthought” (p. 185). The unthought arrived in other meetings as well: meetings with my research supervisor, with former museum colleagues, in conversations with friends whose work lies far afield from my own research area, and in conversations with family members more familiar with my ongoing work and research. The unthought arrived as I walked, while I tried to get my sons to sleep, or as I took care of daily household tasks. These thoughts were often in response to questions posed to me from those outside my research. They were questions that provoked me—questions about the limits of participatory museum practices;50 questions about why I used the term “data” if my work draws on arts-based research;51 questions about the contradictions between what I advocate for and understand participatory practices to be, and what the data produced in my study might otherwise suggest.52 I cannot anticipate these questions or responses either, and though I should have been prepared to be unsettled by these questions and responses, I often was not. For instance, when a presentation attendee asked me to account for the contradictions in my understanding of participatory practices and the case studies from which I produced data,53 the request snagged my thinking (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012) and caused me to stumble through an explanation. This snagging and stumbling revealed that there are contradictions in my work that I might have attempted to tidy up, and that I instead needed to address as disorderly contradictions. In my mind and in my writing, I spoke back to these unofficial participants in my research. Stepping out of my own internal dialogue and receiving the questions, thinking, connections, and resources of another insightful person allowed me to take my research elsewhere. As St. Pierre (1997) says, “All these others move me out of the self-evidence of my work and into its absences and give me the gift of different language and practice with which to 50 Response data from Nadine Kalin.51 Response data from Natalie LeBlanc.52 Response data from an anonymous conference presentation attendee at the National Art Education Association (NAEA) annual convention in March 2016.53 Response data from an anonymous conference presentation attendee at the NAEA convention in March 2016.63trouble my commonsense understanding of the world” (p. 185). As gifts received, it was important to me to document moments when I received response data that shifted my thinking. Though I do not believe St. Pierre’s (1997) intention was to create a new type of citational practice, those who offered response data provoked my thinking about participatory practices and methodology as much as the data, works of art, and scholarship cited in this dissertation, and as such, I have chosen to refer to response data in footnotes throughout the writing. 2.2.6 Documents Though document analysis was not central to this study, I want to briefly explain how documents were used to supplement other data described above. Documents functioned as examples of the types of materials that museums and arts centers use to both share and shape their mission statements, and then to put those missions into action. The documents indicated evaluation practices in action, as well as archival materials used to share information about institutional history. The majority of documents reviewed and included were shared and suggested by research participants during our conversations or leading up to our conversations. These documents were not included in systematic analyses of the data; instead, I included them as extensions of conversations and examples of how certain practices are articulated and put into practice. 2.3 Data Analysis alongside Data ProductionIn this section, I outline the analysis processes that I used in thinking through research data. I describe the processes that I used not to propose that they are replicable, but rather as a means of accounting for “a series of ongoing realizations that lead to complex choices and decision-making” (Luttrell, 2000, p. 500) in my research process. Analyzing data through additive processes (MacLure, 2006) in this study took place in multiple stages and often overlapped with data production. In the following, I account for the choices I made in the data analysis process.642.3.1 Analyzing data from walking conversationsAnalyzing data and producing data frequently overlapped in my study, especially in the initial stages of analysis. For each of the two walking conversations in Wisconsin, I returned to the site following the conversation. I re-walked the routes we had followed, taking photographs and short videos, and recording sound samples along the pathway. The purpose of re-walking the route was twofold: to revisit those conversations, albeit differently; and to produce mappings of those places, in effect creating new data in the process of analyzing previous data.Revisiting sites of the walking conversations was not an attempt to return to a particular moment, as it was abundantly clear that doing so would not be possible. For instance, on the day Amy and I met, the site we visited was extremely foggy. General King Park is situated right along Lake Michigan, so on foggy days, you can only hear the waves of the lake rhythmically falling on the beach, and the sounds of the seagulls passing. When I spoke with Amy, the fog lent a mysterious and calming effect to the location of our conversation, and several times in our conversation we noted the fog. However, when I returned to the park that afternoon, the fog had cleared, and the park was sunny and cheerful—an entirely different experience. This example illustrates that a return is not possible,54 though re-experiencing and revisiting is possible in a walking conversation.In returning to the sites of walking conversations, I wanted to activate what Irwin (2006) calls attention to about walking and creating, pointing out the parallels of what these activities can do for artists, educators, and researchers. As Irwin (2006) notes, I wanted to “resee [my] experience, to perceive [my] experience again” (p. 79), but this time, I wanted to see it differently, and through that return, produce a new experience. I have had experiences in the past when walking on a path that I had followed with friends or family where snippets of the conversations we had and the emotions felt in those places pop into mind, and I re-see and re-hear those conversations differently. Similarly, walking these routes again was an attempt at revisiting conversations with research participants, much as I would return to them by listening to, transcribing, and reading them later. However, the opportunity to visit the sites in which these conversations were situated was a temporary moment, and I wanted to re-see our conversations 54 This point was also raised in response data from Dónal O’Donoghue.65by walking and producing photographic and sound mappings of those walks. In this way, the conversations were being analyzed during the return, but also were being produced differently through the creation of photographs and short recordings that functioned as mappings of the places in which these research conversations were situated. 2.3.2 Research conversation transcriptionI transcribed each research conversation in full from digital recordings played back on VLC player at a reduced speed. While transcribing, I chose to include filler and transition words, mark pauses and silences (Mazzei, 2004), and note particular sounds and utterances that were part of the conversations (MacLure, 2006, 2011). In doing so, my aim was to provide a written representation of the flow of the conversation. I also wanted to dispel notions of perfected speech, drawing instead on ideas of research conversations that are imperfect, that stutter (MacLure, 2011) and stumble along. In this way, my choices while transcribing were a continuation of MacLure’s (2006) baroque method, as the marking of laughs, coughs, throat clearing, ums, uhs, and words colliding into each other as I spoke over others all “honour the obligation to get entangled in the details and decorations, rather than rise above them” (p. 731) (Figure 2.20). Noting these imperfect details of conversation in process in the transcripts and transcript excerpts are another way in which this study aims to echo responsive participatory practices. Here I mean that the process of participatory practices is rarely, if ever, perfect or perfectly scripted. Instead, it shifts, stutters, revolves, gets tripped up or distracted, and has moments of clarity and brilliance. Our research conversations followed a similar process, and I want to reflect the imperfection that is fundamental to both my research process and participatory museum practices through the way in which I transcribed research conversations. There is, though, a delicate balance in the desire to portray the imperfection of conversation as an echo of the imperfection of participatory practices. This balance lies in respectfully presenting the offerings of the four women who spoke with me, while also maintaining my own methodological and theoretical commitments.5555 This point was clarified for me in response data of an email exchange with a research participant.66Figure 2.20. Example of imperfect conversation from excerpt of transcription of conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015.672.3.3 Data analysis during transcriptionA second round of data analysis in this project took place as I transcribed the research conversations. During this process, I paused and made notes of connections to ideas, questions, and theoretical concepts. I also made connections with previous comments and with other conversations, and in some cases drew comparisons between comments in the conversations. I noted connections to artists, books, articles, and other resources that we talked about or that came to mind during the first listening and transcribing process. I also noted moments of recognition, by which I mean that I recognized an example of a theoretical concept, or topics from a conversation had elsewhere, or a return to a central concept that the interviewee had introduced. These moments of recognition took different forms, but they were places in which I connected something I had thought, read, experienced, or talked about previously with the conversation present in the recording and subsequent transcription. In all of these ways, I attempted to follow MacLure’s (2006) suggestion that when working with data, “The key injunction is, always, not to analyse the contents but to add something to them—an anecdote, artefact, reminiscence, drawing etc.” (p. 738) (Figure 2.21).68Figure 2.21. Excerpt from transcript of conversation with Amy Horst; example of analysis while transcribing.Though I note questions and some critical comments in my first round of transcription, what is absent is a closer look at larger themes across the conversations, a consistent review of how theory connects with the conversations, or a critical analysis of the conversation content. In this way, moments of recognition serve as bookmarks to return to or to jump off from, rather than as a thorough analysis. Also, I did not rely solely on these moments of recognition, as they ran the risk of simply serving to support what I already have observed, asserted, or experienced 69in my work with and research of participatory museum practices.56 In subsequent rounds of analysis, my goal was to see differently and make connections differently through the analysis process.2.3.4 Subsequent rounds of data analysis and productionIn subsequent rounds of data analysis, I used a process that followed several steps, though not always in a set order. I read through each transcribed conversation, making notes from theory-driven codes (Saldaña, 2009), moments of recognition from my professional experiences and response data (St. Pierre, 1997), and topics and questions that arose from reading and rereading the transcriptions. I also highlighted passages that grabbed my attention (Figure 2.22). I reviewed these notes and highlighted passages, formulating expanded themes based on theory that presented practices and qualities of responsive participatory art museum practices. In order to formulate themes, I transferred data codes from marked-up .pdf transcriptions to an Excel sheet so the codes could be reviewed side by side and considered together (Figure 2.23). Following the determination of a larger theme, I used mapping processes to visualize how individual topics relate to larger themes (Figure 2.24 and Figure 2.25). I then selected portions of the data, in the manner of Jackson and Mazzei’s (2012) use of “data chunks” or fragments, and considered relevant theory with the selected data to understand and express the nuances of responsive participatory practices. The analysis processes of reading, taking notes, forming themes, and thinking and writing with theory was repeated as I considered each chapter and how that chapter presented and produced qualities and practices of responsive participatory practices. In these processes, I situated my data analysis as somewhere between Saldaña’s (2009) theory-driven coding and Jackson and Mazzei’s (2012) thinking with theory. 56 Response data from Dónal O’Donoghue.70Figure 2.22. Excerpt from transcript of conversation with Amy Horst; example of coding and analysis processes. 71Figure 2.23. Example of Excel coding sheet used to determine larger themes and select conversation data fragments.72Figure 2.24. Hand-drawn mapping of “mutual transformation” theme.73Figure 2.25. Cmap mapping of “mutual transformation” theme.742.3.5 What questions did I ask of the data and what questions did the data ask of me?I asked multiple questions of the data in each round of the analysis process, driven by my curiosity about responsive participatory art museum practices in regards to the logistics and operations that make their day-to-day functioning possible, the underpinning goals that prompt the use of participatory practices, the ways in which education, pedagogy, learning, curriculum, and community engagement are developed through these practices, and how these practices allow for challenging contemporary issues to be addressed in a public space. Some of the questions I had in mind as I analyzed the data included:1) Where and how are education, learning, pedagogy, curriculum, and engagement discussed in relation to and as part of participatory practices? What forms do education, pedagogy, learning, curriculum, and engagement take as they are mentioned and/or described? How are education, pedagogy, and learning related in participatory practices? 2) Do the data support the observation that museums, arts centers, or other arts organizations change their structures because of mutually transformative processes (Ellsworth, 2005) that can be part of participatory practices? In what ways is transformation multi-directional, and not focused only outward from a museum structure that conducts “business as usual” (O’Neill & Wilson, 2010)?3) How is community conceived and actualized in responsive participatory practices?4) In what ways do mission statements form responsive practices, and in what ways do responsive practices form mission statements?I also considered questions that the data were asking of me, primarily questions that lingered at the edges of my thinking about responsive participatory practices, but that were nudged further through reading and rereading the data. Some of these questions included:1) What kinds of language are used to describe participatory art museum practices, and how does that language indicate underlying mission-driven goals and commitments of the organizations, current trends in participatory practices specifically, or cultural work in general, as well as links to theoretical framings of participation, museum and cultural work, and education? How does organization-specific language indicate influences on education and learning in museums from a larger social, cultural, historical, and economic context?752) How are reciprocity and exchange related and enacted in responsive participatory practices?573) How are education, experience, and engagement related and yet seen as different in a responsive participatory practice? 4) What relationship does marketing have with developing guiding philosophies, mission statements, and responsive practices?Though my questions were not limited to these and continued to evolve through the analysis and writing processes, I share them here to indicate that continually noting questions was part of my analysis and data production process.58 These questions are addressed in greater detail in subsequent chapters of the dissertation, and they inform the questions that lay a foundation for the theoretical commitments that guide this research, as I discuss in the next chapter.57 Response data from Brooke Madden.58 This process of articulating questions I am asking of the data and that the data are asking of me was suggested in response data from Lisa Loutzenheiser and Dónal O’Donoghue.76Chapter 3: What Questions and Commitments Did I Bring to the Data?In this chapter, I address two questions: “What are the commitments59 I held as I analyzed the data?” and “Which scholars and experiences informed these commitments?” I wrote about my questions and theoretical commitments prior to analyzing the data in order to coalesce my understandings of key concepts informing this research. I also wrote about these questions and commitments prior to data analysis to clarify my thinking about these concepts, including the theorists and theories that informed my thinking about these concepts. The conceptual and theoretical underpinnings of my research are presented in question form for continuity with the series of questions in section 2.3.5. My intent in this chapter is to share my process of thinking through theoretical questions important to my research that shaped how I approached analyzing my data, rather than presenting a comprehensive literature review. These concepts are interwoven into the following chapters, where I develop them further in relation to the research data and relevant scholarship. 3.1 How Do I Understand the Relationship between Participatory Art Museum Practices and Museum Educational Transfer Models?As I discussed in the introduction, the participatory art museum practices I seek to understand comprise a slow, transformative process for museum staff and participants; as such, they are not a complete break from what may be called more traditional models of museum education practices, which I will refer to as educational transfer models, following Ellsworth (2005) and Rogoff (2006).60 A noteworthy shift for museum practices is the change from knowledge transfer—moving away from one who knows transferring knowledge to one who does not yet know (Ellsworth, 2005; Freire, 1970/2000; Rogoff, 2006)—to a focus on shared 59 Jeannie Kerr introduced me to the concept of thinking about theoretical positions as commitments we make in the world.60 Other terms could be used for the type of museum practices that engage a knowledge transfer model, such as delivery models, acquisitional models, or directed models of education. Though I do not rely heavily on Paolo Freire (1970/2000) in this study, his important theorizing on banking models of knowledge transfer have informed my way of thinking about knowledge delivery and production models.77knowledge creation of what is not yet known, and what can be understood in new and different ways through creating institutional and programmatic possibilities.61 Curators, education staff, public participants, organizational partners, and others come together to understand through museum practices. Importantly, this shift occurs within the context of existing practices of knowledge transfer, such as recording outcomes and visitor statistics, and other modes that might be called traditional practices. Responsive practices are a rethinking and reworking of educational transfer models that, over time, begin to function differently, though they may still reference the starting place of educational transfer models through activities such as docent-led tours or make-and-take children’s projects. Museums that function as authoritative knowledge holders that transfer knowledge to those who do not know are implicated in museum practices that seek to position knowledge as an act of mutual creation. Indeed, there is a long tradition of seeking a more communal understanding of object collection, display, and knowledge creation in museums. For instance, in 1917, museum director John Cotton Dana stated that a museum’s task is “learning what kinds of objects presented in what kinds of ways and accompanied by what kinds of printed or oral expositions, will fill a definite need and serve a definite purpose in the community” (Dana, cited in Zeller, 1989, p. 35). While philosophies on relationships between museums and communities, and subsequent relational practices, have shifted in this 100-year span, both historical and contemporary discussions of participatory museum practices include the notion that a museum should respond to the needs of the community in which it is situated.What I want to emphasize here is that the participatory art museum practices I attempt to understand and articulate are not a denouncement of educational transfer models; instead, participatory practices are intimately interwoven with and informed by educational models of transfer. It is the shift in purpose that is perhaps the most salient transformation—a purpose that transitions from a philosophy of “a polite stasis around serving the object well or not serving the object well” (Phelan & Rogoff, 2001, p. 39) to a philosophy of serving communities through museum practices.61 The response data of conversations with Marie-France Berard helped me to question further this relationship between transfer models and participatory practices of museum education.783.2 How Are Learning and Pedagogy Conceptualized in this Study?In this section, I think through how I am conceptualizing education, learning, and pedagogy. As I discussed in the introductory chapter, I focus on education, learning, and pedagogy in this dissertation, as these processes and concepts are central to my study of responsive participatory art museum practices. Here, I also address the importance of Elizabeth Ellsworth’s (2005) book Places of Learning in relation to my study to explain why I have selected her as a central theorist, and to explain key concepts she theorizes that I utilize in writing about responsive participatory art museum practices. 3.2.1 Why Ellsworth’s Places of Learning?In this study, learning and pedagogy are primarily understood through Elizabeth Ellsworth’s (2005) writing in her book Places of Learning: Media, Architecture, Pedagogy about the types of learning made possible in places, spaces, times, and relationships of learning that she describes as “anomalous” (p. 17). Several key concepts about learning, pedagogy, and education in Places of Learning I discuss in more detail below, but first I explain my choice to think closely with Ellsworth’s writing. Places of Learning resonates with my research into participatory art museum practices in large part because of the places she has selected. These unusual places of learning hold similar qualities to the museums, arts centers, educators, and projects included in this research study that engage responsive participatory practices. Ellsworth gathered examples (or “non-examples,” as she calls them, 2005, p. 9) of these places of learning, ranging from museum exhibitions at the Manhattan Children’s Museum to a Frank Gehry building to the U.S. National Holocaust Museum to Krzysztof Wodiczko’s public art. The range of learning sites resonates in that the approaches to meaningful education in public spaces of architecture, art, and cultural spaces is similar to the cultural institutions included in this study. Given that Ellsworth theorizes learning, pedagogy, and education in these contexts, and given that one of my guiding research questions is about what education means in similar (though not identical) contexts, this study benefits from closely thinking with and through the theories that Ellsworth offers. Often, the questions I ask relate to Ellsworth’s writing, and utilizing her thinking in a context that lies adjacent to her selected places of learning allows me to think 79differently about pedagogical and educational practices in the museums and arts centers I engage in my own research.Further, Ellsworth’s methodological approach resonates with my own research approach. She focuses on visiting sites and returning to those sites to question and understand the nuances of the concepts she is theorizing. While Ellsworth resists the term “example” (2005, p. 9), her use of specific places of learning corresponds to Agamben’s (1990/1993) conceptualization of an example: the example is characterized by the fact that it holds for all cases of the same type, and, at the same time, it is included among these. It is one singularity among others, which, however, stands for each of them and serves for all. (pp. 9–10)62The example is included in, but not limited to, a grouping. While being connected to others that are similar, it is not bound by those similarities; instead, it remains unique. Ellsworth describes this by observing, “Instead, [places of learning] gesture beyond themselves. They are investigations more than they are models” (2005, p. 9). Ellsworth’s methodology resonates with me and inspires my own study in two other important ways. First, throughout Places of Learning, she follows an extended practice of thinking with theorists (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012): “I stage a series of encounters among specific design elements and qualities that shape particular places of learning and the inventive writings” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 11) of theorists such as D. W. Winnicott, Elizabeth Grosz, Peter de Bolla, Adam Phillips, and Brian Massumi. She observes that these authors are also thinking with another layer of scholars and theorists. This layering of thinking with theorists allows me to access the questions and insights of a multiplicity of scholars. While this may not be unique to 62 MacLure (2006) makes a similar point about qualitative research that uses a “baroque method”: “Instead of ascending to ever-higher levels of abstraction or explanatory power (or purer states of authenticity), a baroque analytic would preserve, and indeed intensify, the complexity of the specific. It would look for ways of working with, and deeply within, the intricate entanglements of global and local, representation and reality, sensual and intellectual, particular and general, and so on” (p. 733). MacLure (2011) also calls for a return to the empirical as a means of “working the ruins,” because “[o]ften, writing on theory and methodology hangs in a discursive space that is fairly empty of examples” (p. 998). Similarly, McCoy (2012) suggests the method of a “core sample” to focus on detailed specificity that speaks to a larger geological body as a metaphor for educational research.80Ellsworth’s book or process, it is valuable to me in that she is considering a series of questions relevant to my own study and addressing them through scholars, some of whose work is relevant to my own thinking about museum practices. Finally, her process of juxtaposing examples with theorists’ thinking, her own questions, and her analysis gives me a deeper understanding of Maggie MacLure’s (2006) baroque method of juxtaposition, which informs this study. By looking at places of learning repeatedly and from different angles, she presents learning in challenging and complex ways, providing a process of thinking about learning that is valuable for this study. Ellsworth presents numerous concepts about learning and pedagogy to conceptualize and support learning as a process that is about knowledge and self in the making rather than compliance (2005, pp. 7, 16–17). These concepts include pedagogical pivot points, pedagogical hinges, pedagogical address, pedagogical force, pedagogical potential, mutually transformative learning, and the space, place, and time of learning (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 59). Here, I touch on some of Ellsworth’s thinking about these concepts, which I then put to work (Lather, 2007) in subsequent chapters in relation to responsive participatory art museum practices.3.2.2 Pedagogical address and pedagogical forceFor Ellsworth, thinking about learning is entangled with thinking about pedagogy: “pedagogy becomes the time and space of the learning self in the making” (2005, p. 29, italics in original). She further describes pedagogy “as the force through which we come to have the surprising, incomplete knowings, ideas, and sensations that undo us and set us in motion toward an open future” (2005, pp. 17–18). Pedagogy engages cognitive and noncognitive, affective, nonrepresentational, and material processes (2005, p. 42). It is a relational process wherein the “learning self” comes into relation with people, contexts, environments, and objects that lie outside of the learning self, and in the space between the self and that which lies outside it are pedagogy and learning made possible. Ellsworth proposes an intimately interwoven process of learning, in which pedagogy, knowledge, and the learning self are always in production. Pedagogy becomes a force—although with different qualities and intensities depending on the context—when it is an experience from which a learner cannot turn away. It takes on a quality of surprise from which knowledge unknown and unthought springs forth. As a relational 81process, this force becomes possible when a learning self comes into contact with that which lies outside of it, thus encountering its limits and finding a “third zone” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 64) where the inside and outside of a learning self are put into relation. The space and time of this learning space is what D. W. Winnicott63 refers to as “transitional space” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 59). Ellsworth also notes that at times, Winnicott refers to this space as “transitional phenomenon, potential space, transitional objects, and good-enough holding environment” (2005, p. 59, italics removed). A pedagogical force exists as potential in the process of learning; the learner can make meaning, or not, from an experience. The learner need not engage in learning or create meaning in a transitional space; rather, learning and meaning making are made possible there. But when learning is engaged, it is done so with a force made possible by the assemblage of time, space and place, context, and human and material others in relation with the learner in that transitional space of learning.Each place of learning that Ellsworth analyzes uses a pedagogical address. That is, the designers, artists, architects, educators, curators, and other producers of potential learning places create those places with pedagogical intent. These producers of places of learning simultaneously engage their respective design skillsets that lie outside of language64 and what they understand to be pedagogical elements, to make learning possible in these places (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 10). In museums, for example,65 a pedagogical address is one that “invites its visitors into a relation. It articulates the relations of the objects in the museum among themselves and includes the visitor as one of the objects in the system” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 103). This address is only ever potential, as a learner/visitor may or may not choose to pay attention to the pedagogical address in a learning, or transitional, space. Further, the address is uncertain and holds no particular outcome. Only the conditions for learning are made possible; what comes of the learning space and the 63 While I use many concepts that draw on Winnicott’s scholarship, I have chosen not to engage with his writing directly, as it is Ellsworth’s interpretations and use of his theories that are valuable for this study.64 Ellsworth (2005) introduces some elements of these design skillsets as “the orchestration of space, time, duration, movement, sensation, sound, text, image, interaction, juxtaposition, and invitation to surprise” (p. 10).65 In the passages referenced in this paragraph, Ellsworth writes about the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.82learning self’s experience is unknown. As Ellsworth states, “The power of the address . . . lies in its indeterminacy” (2005, p. 100). 3.2.3 Pedagogical pivot point and pedagogical hingeEllsworth describes pedagogy as a process that “stages encounters with the unthought—encounters with the future in the making” (2005, p. 38). But what links the past and present with the future? What allows an entrance into the unthought when a learner cannot know the types of thinking and learning that Ellsworth describes in advance? The entrance into this process of the unthought is what Ellsworth calls a pedagogical pivot point that functions in the time and space of a pedagogical hinge. These metaphorical materializations of processes of thinking and learning and the self in the making give imagery to the concept of learning as a space and time where the inside of an individual comes into relation with all that lies outside of it. The time and space at which the inside meets the outside creates a hinge, or a pivot point, where pedagogy and learning potentially happen. Ellsworth observes the following about producers of pedagogical places:Their work strives to create the experience of the learning self by putting inner thoughts, feelings, memories, fears, desires, and ideas in relation to outside others, events, history, culture, and socially constructed ideas. They see the power of their designs as residing in their abilities to invite self in relation in ways that activate the instability of the binary self/other. (2005, p. 37)Where the “porous boundaries” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 61) of inside and outside are put into relation is the pedagogical pivot place, activated by design elements or objects that can be pedagogical; the movement that takes place is like the swing of a door on a hinge, where movement into a space of unencountered thought allows for learning in the making and movements between inside and outside that, once traversed, can never be undone. While writing about Krystzof Wodiczko’s public art, Ellsworth describes his use of pedagogical pivot places and hinges as “spaces of difference between self and other that we internalize and make necessary to our personal senses of self and identity” (2005, p. 51). The outside is taken in through learning and changes who we are by transforming what we know through learning in the making.83Pedagogical pivot places and pedagogical hinges are further understood through Winnicott’s transitional space, which brings the inner self into relation with experiences, objects, people, and contexts that are unknown and that lie outside the individual. Transition takes place as an individual attempts to come to know about these outside phenomena. For Winnicott, it is imperative that individuals come into contact with what lies outside of them, otherwise they will exist solely in their own inner reality (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 30). Transitional space is described by Ellsworth asa third space of simultaneous interrelation and separation that is neither self nor other, inner nor outer. Winnicott called this time and space of being in between, this interval of change, transitional space, a term that refers, in part, to the interval, the space of self-difference, and the process of self change that opens up in the psyche when an experience of the learning self is in the making. (2005, p. 31, italics in original)This transitional space where the learning self is in the process of becoming something else is also where pedagogical hinges and pivot points lie. The turn from inner to outer and back again to internalize the outer takes place at those pivots and hinges. Transitional space is necessarily material in that it is a space where bodies feel, move, and are open to sensation (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 32). It is also a space in which time takes on a particular quality. While learning is durational and always in process, it is also only noticed at the point after which it has taken place. Thus, the learning self only notices it has internalized the relationship with the outside and internalized that learning after the learning has taken place (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 34). 3.2.4 Pedagogical potentialEach possible moment and place in which learning could happen only holds the potential for learning. The type of learning that Ellsworth theorizes is always uncertain and is not demanded. The learner always has the choice (whether consciously realized or not) to accept, internalize, or engage with what is offered through pedagogical practices (Ellsworth, pp. 54–55, 60–61, 75–77; see also, Rogoff, 2008, pp. 120–121). Learning is not forced, and a time and space in which learning could happen may not even be noticed. As such, places of learning are only ever potential places of learning. In understanding learning as potential, Ellsworth employs Winnicott’s concept of the “good-enough holding environment,” which is “the space and time of 84an attentive and responsive holding of the potential of the experience of the learning self” (2005, p. 70). In the good-enough holding environment, a learner can pivot from the inner self to the outer world and back again, which makes experiences possible, though it does not ensure learning. The existence of the elements of a pedagogical address in the time and space of a pedagogical pivot point and the motions of a pedagogical hinge do not necessitate that learning will happen: The good-enough holding environment is a potential pivot place between inner and outer realities, but it cannot guarantee the arrival of learning as the experience of knowledge and self in the making. What the holding environment holds is the potential for innovation and learning, a potential energy that waits to be released by its intermingling with the user. (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 70) In an environment that could be a place of learning, only the conditions for potential learning are in place. The design of those conditions is what I see as the creation of an educational space, as discussed below. The potentiality for learning to be or not exists because those conditions have been created, and that potentiality then takes up the qualities described by Giorgio Agamben. Agamben (1990/1993) addresses potential as the very quality of something in a moment in which it could be or could not be. Potential is the possibility that change might happen, but it also might not. The very nature of the ability for something to take place sits side by side with the ability for that something to be completely overlooked, ignored, or not actualized. Agamben explains that every potentiality is articulated, [and] the decisive one is that which the philosopher calls “the potentiality to not-be” . . . For if it is true that whatever being always has a potential character, it is equally certain that it is not capable of only this or that specific act, nor is it therefore simply incapable, lacking in power, nor even less is it indifferently capable of everything, all-powerful: The being that is properly whatever is able to not-be; it is capable of its own impotence. (1990/1993, p. 35)Expressly because something—in this case, learning and the learning self—has the potential to either take place or to take part in the action of a learning in the making or to not take part in that learning, it makes the spaces, places, and times of learning hold that much more possible 85pedagogical force. The pedagogy and learning Ellsworth theorizes comprise an uncertain, experimental, and creative process equally full of potential and lacking potential.3.2.5 Mutually transformative learningFinally, learning affects more than the individual learner. Ellsworth theorizes a process of pedagogy and learning in which learners encounter facets of the world that lie outside of themselves in a potential learning process. In this process, when learning takes place it is internalized by the learner, and the learner is forever changed and forever changing in this learning process. Likewise, the environments, people (teachers and potential co-learners), objects, and other elements that lie outside a learner in a good-enough holding environment can also be changed in the process of learning in the making. In this way, learning is a transformational process that is always mutual. This transformation takes place as a learning self comes to know something new, and transformation takes place as the environments, people, and objects that are part of a pedagogical address and pivot place respond to a learner and the process of learning. This process does not have a final, known outcome; it remains ongoing and unknown. But in this constant motion of learning, both learning selves in the making and the places of learning in which they come into relation are transformed through learning in the making. The quality of a learning space, place, and time as having the potential for mutual transformation is fundamental to Winnicott’s good-enough holding environment. Ellsworth explains: “A flexible, responsive holding environment meets the self-in-transition with curiosity and playfulness, and the good-enough holding environment is open to itself being changed in turn—as the result of having been in relation with a learning in the making” (2005, pp. 32–33). Ellsworth (2005) “experiment[s] with learning as qualitative transformation” (p. 118) when theorizing learning and pedagogy. Mutual transformation marks a notable shift from the delivery of “knowledge [as a] thing already made” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 5) to a process of learning that is always ongoing and uncertain, though guided by the pedagogies of the places, spaces, times, contexts, and people who design places of learning.863.3 How is Education Conceptualized in this Study?A guiding question in this study is: “In what ways can education, learning, and pedagogy be understood in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices?” Here, prior to data analysis, I review the theoretical questions and commitments that inform my thinking about education in relation to pedagogy and learning. To be concise, I understand education, pedagogy, and learning primarily as Ellsworth addresses them in Places of Learning. As discussed in the previous sections, pedagogy is “the time and space of the learning self in the making” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 29, italics in original). Learning is the process of the self and knowledge in the making through encountering “previously unknown ways of thinking and being in the world” (2005, p. 16). I then understand education, following Ellsworth to be the processes of creating the conditions for the time and space of the learning self (2005, pp. 27, 35), as well as the qualities of a person’s response (p. 23) and their lived experiences when encountering the unknown or unthought (p. 35). I further understand education as creating the conditions for the time and space of the learning self in the making through the writings of several other scholars (Bourriaud, 1997/2002; Dewey, 1938; Freire, 1970/2000; Greene, 1994; and O’Donoghue, 2010, 2011), who discuss education as a process of creating conditions, which I will address further in section In the following three sections, I consider education as responsive, relational, and potential, creating educational conditions, and what knowledge means in relation to participatory art museum practices.3.3.1 Education as responsive, relational, and potentialIn thinking about education in a responsive participatory art museum practice, my working assumption is that education is not limited to structures and systems (Rogoff, 2010b); rather, education as a set of sites, strategies, structures, and systems for producing and 66 My understanding of education conflicts with others’ and in particular conflicts with Gert Biesta’s (2009, 2013) arguments that an increasing focus on discourses of learning obscures political, social, and economic actions embedded in the notion of learning. Biesta (2013) instead proposes restoring a focus on education to revitalize education’s dual purposes of emancipation from and engagement with the world (p. 5). While I acknowledge and share some of Biesta’s (2009, 2013) concerns, particularly the similarity between focusing on processes of learning and participation without considering a purpose for those processes, his arguments for focusing on education, and my interest in the interrelation of education, learning, and pedagogy do not align.87disseminating knowledge is secondary to the processes involved in learning and producing knowledge. As such, I follow Ellsworth’s suggestion that we “think [of] pedagogy in ways that encompass curriculum” (2005, p. 12) instead of considering education as a hierarchical system that flows as educationcurriculumpedagogylearning. This leads to thinking more about processes of learning and knowledge production, which aligns with responsive participatory practices by thinking more about processes than types of content dissemination used in transfer models, discussed above. This is not to suggest a new hierarchy but to say that as I consider education, the processes involved in learning are privileged in this study, which means that pedagogy and learning as processes shape what education and curriculum might be and what it might become.67 Further, I understand education that is guided by pedagogy as a process of response. Ellsworth, following Peter de Bolla, puts it this way: “The educational qualities or value of a pedagogical effort—what, in other words, counts as ‘educational’ in that effort—exist only in our responses to it. The educational component of a pedagogy is knowable to us only in our response” (2005, p. 23). In this study, processes of learning, relating to others (including relating to objects and places and contexts), and producing knowledge through response are qualities that come to the forefront. Education then becomes not “an institution but a series of processes and of speculations” (Rogoff, 2006, p. 16). Education is also thought of as a relational process in this study. These relationships occur, as Ellsworth makes clear, through interactions between the inside and outside of a learner as well as the “spaces between and around” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 159) the inside and outside of a self. In this way, Ellsworth (2005), drawing on John Rajchman (2000, p. 121), says that “education and its pedagogical acts might be thought of as ‘many different people and disciplines talking and seeing in new ways at once, interfering and resonating with one another, thanks to some as-yet informed or uncoded material of expression’” (p. 28). What happens in between people, contexts, objects, and other elements is what makes them educational. In this way, the process of people, contexts, and objects “coming together” (Rogoff, 2010a) is seen as holding educational potential. 67 The idea of learning and pedagogy as active and relational processes also aligns with some curriculum scholars’ views of curriculum as a complex, relational process (Aoki, 1993, 2005; Carter & Triggs, 2018; Pinar, 2012).88In this study, education is considered as response as well as a space of relationality and potential. In writing about potentiality in relation to education, Irit Rogoff (2006) suggests that thinking about education as potentiality “allows for the inclusions of notions of both fallibility and actualisation into a practice of teaching and learning . . . which seems to me to be an interesting entry point into thinking creativity in relation to different moments of coming into being” (p. 15). Potentiality, as mentioned in the previous section on learning, is both to have potential to be or to do and simultaneously to hold the potential to not be or to not do. Rogoff (2006) notes, “If this duality is not paralyzing . . . then it has possibilities for an understanding of what it is about ‘academy’ [education] that can actually become a model for ‘being in the world’” (p. 16). In Ellsworth’s thinking through of Winnicott’s potential space and good-enough holding environment, it might follow that education as a space of potential means “the space and time of an attentive, responsive holding of demands and invitations that carry the potential for transitional experience” (2005, p. 60). And while potential spaces “can be designed for, they cannot be predicted, or wished into existence” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 60). Education as a space of potential means that learners are always able to make something of these educational spaces, but they are also able to not make anything of those spaces. It is the tension of potential learning that makes the processes of pedagogy and learning in educational spaces that much more meaningful. 3.3.2 Education as creating the conditions for learningEllsworth points out that potential spaces68 can be designed for or can be created, and in this sense, I understand education as a potential space in which the conditions are created for potential learning and potential knowledge production. Ellsworth returns repeatedly to the notion 68 To clarify, I consider space as informed by Ellsworth’s (2005) and O’Donoghue’s (2006, 2007, 2010, 2013) uses of this concept. For Ellsworth (2005), space “is a simultaneous convergence of multiple events, sensations, actions, and experiences” (p. 60) and is informed by Winnicott’s theorizing of transitional space. O’Donoghue’s (2006, 2007, 2010, 2013) research on the relational nature of spaces that affect the self in formation further influences my understanding of space in this study. I understand place as Ellsworth (2005) makes use of this term when she describes places of learning—specifically, “places of learning are highly charged event potentials that promise surprise and constantly challenge us with new and unexpected questions” (p. 11). I also understand place as being produced relationally, as I discuss in section creating conditions, but the idea is also present in the writings of other scholars, including Nicolas Bourriaud (1997/2002), John Dewey (1938), Paolo Freire (1970/2000), Maxine Greene (1994), and Dónal O’Donoghue (2010, 2011). Creating the conditions for potential educational spaces indicates a focus on context and the conditions created in these spaces. Attending to factors that include, but are not limited to, relationships, dialogue, time, language, power dynamics, spatial settings, personal and social history, cultural contexts, previous individual and group experiences, and institutional structures and habits provides the basis for pedagogical encounters. These factors are shifting and fluid, allowing for their intersections to alter educational experiences. Emphasis is placed on understanding and adjusting to contextual factors and circumstances in potential educational spaces, rather than focusing solely on content. Bourriaud (2002, p. 23), Freire (1970/2000, p. 19), and O’Donoghue (2010, pp. 409, 414–415) discuss “creating the conditions” for potential learning to take place. Attention to intersections of contextual factors enables educators to take qualities of encounters into consideration and allows for multiplicity in meaning making. Rather than access to a fixed body of knowledge, creating conditions makes space for multiple knowledges through shaping situations while embracing the fluid and shifting nature of what those encounters entail. Creating the conditions means addressing how people enter into a space or experience, and considering why they choose to enter, how they are invited to move through that space, who they share the experience with, and what types of information they encounter along the way, among other things.Dónal O’Donoghue (2010) writes about how artist Reece Terris created conditions for potential learning through a carefully crafted encounter with the artist’s installation Ought Apartment. O’Donoghue explains that Terris “created the conditions for viewers to remember, recall and engage in complex meaning-making practices that rely on recursive, multidirectional and associated and disassociated meaning-making practices” (p. 415). In creating conditions where meaning could be generated, Terris was not determining what meaning would be made there, or indeed whether meaning would be made at all. Instead, O’Donoghue describes a process through which Terris created a potential space for making meaning—in other words, a potential educational space in which learning was possible. Artist and architect Maya Lin (2000) claims this same desire to create conditions in potential educational spaces, saying, “I create places in which to think, without trying to dictate what to think” (cited in Ellsworth, 2005, p. 54). 90The types of educational spaces created by educators, artists, architects, designers, curators, and others are spaces in which learning, knowledge, and meaning are not dictated. These are also potential spaces in which the limits of thinking are tested. Rogoff (2010b) states that when educational spaces do not dictate the types of knowledge being produced, then knowledgehas the possibility of posing questions that combine the known and the imagined, the analytical and the experiential, and which keep stretching the terrain of knowledge so that it is always just beyond the border of what can be conceptualized. These are questions in which the conditions of knowledge are always internal to the concepts it is entertaining, not as a context but as a limit to be tested. (p. 4)When conditions are created for learning and meaning making as educational processes, then those conditions most likely shape the learning processes, but learning also tests the limits of those same conditions. In this way, knowledge and learning can never be bounded in potential educational spaces; they cannot be known in advance, and the ways in which they are put to use cannot be preconceived (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 54). 3.3.3 How is knowledge addressed in thinking about education in responsive participatory art museum practices?69Knowledge in a responsive participatory art museum practice moves away from knowledge already made that is transferred from educator to learner (Ellsworth, 2005) to knowledge being produced through learning that brings us in contact with the limits of what we know (Ellsworth, 2005; Rogoff, 2006). Rogoff (2006) marks this shift while offering another way of thinking about knowledge:the questions in education in general and in art education in particular, the questions that we have not yet begun to deal with, are not that of specifying what we need to know and how we need to know it, of who determines this and who benefits from it; instead it is a question as to how we might know what we don’t yet know how to know. And it is here, in the aim of accessing this complex aspiration, that we need to change our vocabulary—69 This question is prompted by conversations with and questions raised by Marie-France Berard.91to swap knowledge transfer and knowledge assessment, professionalization, quantifiable outcomes and marketability for another set of terms and another set of aspirations. (p. 14)Knowledge is not information already made and packaged in order to be delivered to a learner; instead, it is a thing in the making between one’s internal self and that which lies outside (Ellsworth, 2005). Transferring knowledge is not a guiding ambition in responsive participatory practices; rather, the guiding purposes are coming up against the limits of knowledge, engaging processes of coming to know, and acknowledging the people, spaces, times, and materiality through which knowledge comes into being (Ellsworth, 2005; Rogoff, 2006, 2008, 2010a, 2010b). The shift in thinking about knowledge is marked in another way, namely, considering “that knowledge does rather than is” (Rogoff, 2010b, p. 1, italics in original). In thinking about what knowledge does rather than what it is, a focus on content delivery is uncoupled from systems and structures of education, and experimentation in processes of learning and producing thought are then made possible (Ellsworth, 2005; Rogoff, 2010b). This movement toward a different kind of consideration of knowledge production is important to articulate in responsive participatory museum practices, primarily because foundational assumptions about knowledge become the starting points for the types of participation made possible within museums. As Rogoff (2010b) remarks, “the direction of the knowledge determines its mode and dissemination” (p. 9). This directionality of knowledge means that museum staff cannot decide to layer participatory practices on top of guiding philosophies that center knowledge transfer (even if knowledge transfer still takes place), as doing so means that the types of participation will always be encoded with a particular outcome. If responsive participatory practices are engaged, a museum reshapes its understanding of knowledge as a thing in the process of being made by museum staff as knowledge-holders. Instead, knowledge is considered as being made in between the “domain knowledge” (Meszaros, 2007, p. 21) of museum staff made accessible through programmatic and exhibitionary practices, and participants and visitors who potentially come into contact with that domain knowledge through the public curriculum of the museum. Cheryl Meszaros (2007) explains that “domain knowledge . . . [comprises] the kinds of synthesized understandings, definitions and explanations that come from deep within disciplinary practices—in other words, the knowledge of a generous and articulate expert” (p. 9221). Domain knowledge is used along with the skills and experience of staff members to create conditions for potential learning with audiences and participants, rather than to transfer that knowledge to one who is assumed to not know. It is important to note that this shift is not simple, it is often not made transparent, and it often goes unnoticed. Frequently, museums engaging participatory practices work within the tensions of a system of knowledge as a thing already made, and knowledge in the making through a process of experimentation.  3.4 What Understandings of Community Are Utilized in This Study?Community as theorized by Agamben (1990/1993) and Nel Noddings (1996) and in relation to the notions of responsibility discussed in writings about a global, cosmopolitan sense of community (Appiah, 2006; Pinar, 2009) underlies my understanding of the concept of community. In the following sections, I address the concept of potential community, naming community, the dark side of community, and responsibility to others as foundational to how community is conceptualized in this study. 3.4.1 The potential communityIn thinking through potential community, three characteristics are prominent: the alignment of potentiality and impotentiality; the minute movements that create a potential community; and the activation of a threshold. Agamben (1990/1993) says that every potential act also holds the same counterbalancing impotentiality. For every action, there is the potential to not act; for every community that could be, there also exists the possibility that the community will not gather together. In Agamben’s notion of potentiality and impotentiality, it is not that each potential act or being has an equal counterpart of inaction or non-being, but rather that the power to not-be or to not-act makes the being or the action that much more momentous. For a potential community, this means that knowing that any community that forms could just as easily dissolve or lose momentum should create an impetus to nurture that community, or at least to value existing communities when they do occur. Potential community is also a process of slow movement rather than grand, revolutionary changes. It is not permanent or settled. Instead, this form of community is “the passage from 93potentiality to act, from common form to singularity, [it] is not an event accomplished once and for all, but an infinite series of modal oscillations” (Agamben, 1990/1993, p. 19). For instance, the knowledge that at any point, the movement between community and museum might be obstructed—as in the case of a controversial exhibition, or missteps in a collaborative project—should afford a greater valuation of the relational community that does exist, even if temporarily. Moreover, Agamben’s focus on the series of “tiny displacements” (1990/1993, pp. 53–54) or “modal oscillations” (p. 19) reflects the “low-key transformative process” (Rogoff, 2010a, p. 39) of potential communities. Just as it is a slow and moving process, it is also temporary. Potential community is one in which “many fleeting collectivities ebb and flow, converge and fall apart” (Rogoff, 2010a, p. 39). The impetus to come together arises not out of shared identity characteristics in a potential museum community, but more out of curiosity, intellectual pursuits, creative aspirations, and relational possibilities (Rogoff, 2008). Potential community takes place at the borders, the limits, or the boundaries. Agamben discusses such a border as a threshold, saying, “The threshold is not, in this sense, another thing with respect to the limit; it is, so to speak, the experience of the limit itself, the experience of being within an outside” (1990/1993, p. 68, italics in original). Similar to an individual or a singular being knowing itself when it comes into contact with another being and thereby are bound together without an inside or outside, the threshold is a place where an in-between exists, much like Ellsworth’s discussion of Winnicott’s transitional space. The threshold exists “as a zone in which possibility and reality, potentiality and actuality, become indistinguishable” (Agamben, 1990/1993, p. 56). In this zone, potential communities exist or do not exist, and impotentiality and potentiality function simultaneously to actualize what potential communities could be.3.4.2 Naming communityWhat is a grouping of people called, and how does the naming of that group further create and recreate that group? Throughout The Coming Community, Agamben (1990/1993) addresses the issue of naming, questioning the validity of a name while at the same time recognizing that the name creates the entity and the entity invites certain namings. In other words, “the idea of a thing is a thing itself; the name, insofar as it names a thing, is nothing but 94the thing insofar as it is named by the name” (Agamben, 1990/1993, p. 77, italics in original). As Agamben says, language is the “extreme nullifying unveiling” that “no longer even reveals anything—or better, it reveals the nothingness of all things” (1990/1993, p. 82). Community exists, though it is centered around nothingness, because we name it as such; the name “community” exists because we behave according to the norms of the name. Lisa Loutzenheiser (2005) calls attention to a similar concept of naming in her discussion of an “educational imaginary” (p. 33) in which, [i]dentity constructions are constantly utilized within educational circles; these utilizations rely on significations and citations of categories that do not exist, as they are framed within the very imaginary in which they are in play. . . . They are because we believe they are, and act as if they are. (p. 32)Community is because we believe it is and act as if it is. For Agamben, despite this recognition of an absence from which communities and forms of identity are brought into being, there can be hopefulness in these actions: “the existence of language is the yes said to the world so that it remains suspended over the nothingness of language” (1990/1993, p. 104). Though perhaps not a resounding “yes” of language, Loutzenheiser’s (2005) “contingent primacy” recognizes the political and personal exigencies for naming that create a self, and a self that insists on naming. Further, Loutzenheiser (2005) acknowledges that “there are few words for this other fragmented self” (p. 36), so the words that we do find for naming our individual and communal selves need to be understood in context. In thinking further about community, I turn to Noddings (1996), who raises concerns about what community does, what it cannot do, and ways in which certain communities could offer more than is recognized.3.4.3 Communities of care and the dark side of communityNoddings’ (1996) cautionary article “On Community” provides a review of entrenched thinking by communitarian and liberal thinkers about community, raises concerns about the historically dangerous and potentially dangerous turns that either form of thinking and enacting community can take, and closes by articulating what communities of care offer. In this brief look at her conceptualization of community, I consider how Noddings brings together some of the 95concerns raised by Agamben in writing about the “dark side” of community (Noddings, 1996, pp. 245, 258) and offers a possible alternate form of community through care. These examples are drawn together with thinking about potentially negative aspects of community-based museum programming to consider further implications of Noddings’ admonitions.Noddings begins with the cautionary note, “Community is not an unalloyed good; it has a dark side, and both educators and students should be aware of it” (1996, p. 245). Her concern—one that I would argue is as relevant now as it was when she wrote this article—is that with the proliferation of talk around community, a romanticizing of the idea seeped into the conversations around community in schools. Noddings outlines some of the extreme cases of communities turned to monumental tragedy, as in a “total community of fascism” (1996, p. 254) in Nazi Germany, or in societies where the focus on individual rights has “eroded not only a sense of responsibility for one another but even our understanding of human sociality” (p. 252). Noddings focuses on the role of “normocentricity” (1996, p. 254), wherein communities can either normalize tragic and violent behavior or can normalize self-sacrificing behavior, such as non-Jewish individuals and groups who risked their own safety to assist Jews during the Holocaust. Her primary note of caution, which I would like to bring into the conversation for museums working within a community-based mission, is to be aware of the dangers of community that have historically taken place and are currently taking place. By addressing these historical and current damages, she asserts that educators will be more aware of ways in which to avoid those dangers in the future.Janna Graham’s (2010) warnings about the dangers of “participatory coercion” (p. 132) echo Noddings’ cautionary writing. Graham brings together concerns about co-opting, minimizing, and possibly aggravating the struggles of those communities with whom researchers, educators, and cultural institutions profess to supportively work. In her own cautionary statement, she echoes Agamben’s (1990/1993) recognition of the powers of naming when she reminds participatory, community-based practitioners “that the word is only as valuable as its enactment in the world” (Graham, 2010, p. 133). Those who propose to work with community members must attend to the aims of those community members so as not to coerce people into efforts that return to the same problematic issues that the community and collaborators sought to alleviate.96Noddings closes her paper by suggesting we study communities that have mitigated the “dark side” of community and incorporate some of those characteristics into communities of care. One form that she advances is the unavowable community, which for her has a center—whether from family, religion, or geography—and in which characteristics of responsibility and listening are central, while regulation and normalization are peripheral (Noddings, 1996, p. 262). Here, her point is to consider caring as a central notion for community, rather than historically polarizing centers of ideology and identity. Noddings articulates care as a commitment to receptive attention and a willingness to respond helpfully to legitimate needs. . . . Instead of meeting the living other as a symbol . . . care requires that we meet him or her directly in as positive a way as conditions make possible. (1996, p. 265)This notion of care offers much for community-based, responsive participatory museum practices and is discussed further below.3.4.4 Thinking the potential community as responsibility to othersHere, I bring together the productive notion of potential community with writers who speak to the basic notion of responsibility to others as foundational in various forms of community (Appiah, 2006; Archibald, 2002; Noddings, 1996; Pinar, 2009; see also Barad, 2007, p. 178; Gaztambide-Fernández, 2012; Irwin, 2008; Irwin & Springgay, 2008, p. xxxii). This fundamental aspect provides a way of understanding what community might be when it exists outside of organized systems of belonging through identity or ideology. In speaking about the unavowable community, Noddings discusses the importance of responsibility: “a primary trait of the unavowable community is responsibility” (1996, pp. 261–262). Similarly, writings about cosmopolitanism attend to the importance of responsibility and obligations to others. Kwame Anthony Appiah (2006) discusses the idea of responsibility to others in no uncertain terms, asserting: “One truth we [cosmopolitans] hold to, however, is that every human being has obligations to every other” (p. 144). Appiah (2006) explains two fundamental ideas of cosmopolitanism responsibility: first, that all people “have obligations to others, obligations that stretch beyond those to whom we are related by the ties of kith and kind” or through ties of citizenship; and second, that in cosmopolitan responsibility, “we take seriously the value not just of human life but of particular human lives” (p. xv). Within Appiah’s 97cosmopolitan understanding is the belief that each individual life, in all of its particularities, matters greatly.70 Though cosmopolitanism as Appiah (2006) and William Pinar (2009) theorize it is global in scale, both agree that “we must singularize collective identity, thereby testifying to the individual subjectivities that give it substance and from which its forms can be reconstructed” (Pinar, 2009, p. 33). Obligations to others extend globally but take form in day-to-day, specific interactions between individuals.A focus on responsibility also takes place in writings about museum and community relationships. In the American Association of Museums’ publication Mastering Civic Engagement,71 former director Robert Archibald (2002) acknowledges that while the idea of civic engagement, or community-based processes, are being promoted nationally, they will inevitably “vary from community to community and museum to museum” (p. 2) and will require that museum staff “relinquish our traditional authoritarian roles in favor of new responsibilities as both resources and facilitators of dialogue about those things that matter most to people” (p. 3). Responsibility is also not a fixed process, but is made and remade in encounters between museum staff and community members, just as community is created each time those encounters take place. The process of mutual transformation is inherent to this process, and though it will not lead to any certain place will hopefully hold the qualities and characters of those formations of community that Noddings and Agamben, among others, promote.The ways in which responsibility takes shape within museums and with communities vary but are important to note, as responsibility is often interpreted as a one-way “giving” from 70 By addressing Appiah’s (2006) notions of cosmopolitan responsibility to others, including that each individual life matters, I am not disregarding powerful recent movements, particularly the Black Lives Matter movement, toward protecting specific groups of people that are imperiled in the United States and elsewhere in the world. What I want to clarify here is that responsibility in the context of responsive participatory art museum practices indicates a respect for all people, regardless of their similarity to one’s self or one’s lived experiences. 71 While this publication is important for the museum field in the United States, I would like to note that I find the idea of “mastering” civic engagement problematic. Given that I am attempting to find a framework that allows for non-hierarchical relations that are fleeting and constantly in flux, I find the fixed perspective of mastery as incommensurable with the ideas I am advancing about potential community that is grounded in responsibility. Nonetheless, this publication is valuable for the points of view it asserts, the questions it raises, the challenges it poses to the field, and its documentation of museums in the United States in a time of transition.98the museum, a perspective that has the potential to frame yet another hierarchical, paternalistic relationship. Instead, responsibility within community-based museum programming is not only to community partners but also to the organization itself. If the museum withholds its needs, it is denying its own position as a partner that provides particular resources and information (Archibald, 2002); instead, community partners and the museum are responsible for speaking to their needs in shared collaboration.72 Likewise, museums and community partners should be clear in stating that they are not singularly responsible to any one person or group, but are more likely responsible to multiple individuals and community groups. Not disclosing these multiple responsibilities may hinder positive relationships, thereby denying the potentiality of community and instead activating the impotentiality of community. In thinking about community, I acknowledge Jean-Luc Nancy’s (1991) apt comment: “To say that community has not yet been thought is to say that it tries our thinking” (p. 26). Though it is a concept in formation, for this study the most productive notion of community is the potential community, wherein small, non-revolutionary movements compound in the threshold spaces to be, or not-be, community, always knowing that the potential and impotential for community exist simultaneously. Responsibility is a foundation for community, and I offer this as a framing characteristic for a potential community that exists in between museums, community groups, and individuals.In the following two chapters, I put to work the topics, questions, and concepts considered above (Lather, 2007). In the next chapter, I consider data produced with research participants in relation to creating educational conditions.72 In response data from Amy Horst (personal communications, 2009, 2012) prior to formal research conversations, she also asserted that museums must be clear about their needs.99Chapter 4: Education as Creating the Conditions4.1 Creating Educational ConditionsEducation in a responsive participatory art museum practice is influenced by, but not bound by departmental structures. Instead, education is an ongoing process of creating the conditions for potential learning through everyday practices. These practices support evolving organizational qualities determined through strategic planning processes, qualities that often directly respond to community needs and organizational capacity. Education is considered an ongoing process, where staff is continuously learning in order to create new conditions; likewise, collaborators and participants are learning through those conditions that have been created by staff, and are often co-created with those same collaborators and participants. In this way, a hierarchical model of education dissolves (Ellsworth, 2005). In this chapter, I discuss how participants addressed what education means at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center. I open the chapter with an extended excerpt from my conversation with Ann Brusky (September 2, 2015) that illustrates the complex ways museum practitioners create educational conditions in responsive participatory art museum practices. Creating educational conditions is then considered through daily practices, determining and supporting collaborators’ needs, working within institutional capacity, and identifying and activating spaces for education. I also discuss snags (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012) in thinking about these conditions, as a way to consider those practices that make responsive participatory practices more complex, by either contradicting or exceeding the theoretical and experiential frameworks from which I am addressing these responsive practices. In the mapping analysis of this chapter (Figure 4.1), relationships between these topics are visualized, providing an overview of the chapter. 100Figure 4.1. Mapping of analysis of education as creating the conditions—chapter overview.101Thinking through the ways participants addressed education, I utilize theories of education, learning, and pedagogy introduced in Chapter 3 to consider what education means in responsive participatory art museum practices. In writing about creating educational conditions, I think alongside Elizabeth Ellsworth (2005), Irit Rogoff (2006, 2008, 2010a, 2010b), and Giorgio Agamben (1990/1993). I also consider creating educational conditions with other scholars who have influenced my thinking about what it means to create conditions for potential educational experiences (Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; O’Donoghue, 2006, 2007, 2010, 2013). Excerpts from research conversations, documents shared by participants, and personal researcher narratives are included to expand my thinking in an additive process of data analysis (MacLure, 2006) and production. Conversation with Ann Brusky, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, September 2, 2015“Creating educational conditions” excerptE: So the question is, in what ways have you found that this kind of format, the community-centered, A: Right.E: I’m curious what kind of terms you’ll use about what I’m calling participatory processes, but are essentially community-centered processes. In what ways does that allow [pause] addressing these really heavy issues that need to be discussed, and in what ways does the Arts Center become part of that conversation? A: I always view us more as the facilitator of those conversations, that we offer that, again, that neutral space, that people can come and have a conversation, [pause] but also there are times where we provoke that conversation. Right?E: Mm-hmm.A: And I don’t know if the word provoke is the right one, that’s recently been brought up about the word provoke, but, you know, I find it fascinating, the different ways that that can be a positive experience and a negative experience. So, an example, [pause] and I kinda hesitate, so we had a performance recently in which race was a big part of the conversation in the performance. And then [the audience] was welcome to have the conversation afterwards. And it 102was in a talk-back style, and it was announced, “We’d love for you to stay and have this conversation.” Um, and some people of course opted to walk, which is fine, but even those who stayed felt that in some way that they were lured.E: Oh.A: And kind of set up in a way, of how the conversation went. And how, how is it, [pause] I will say I feel like there was some instigation going on from the artists’ standpoint.E: Okay.A: And that’s an interesting subject right there. But not in a, [pause] in no way did it cross a line. But, my point of saying it is, I find it interesting how people respond in the setting that they’re given, ’cause I felt like, “Okay, we’re in a safe setting,” and they didn’t feel safe. And I thought that was interesting to me. And I can some way get it now when I think about it in retrospect, like maybe perhaps the conversation should have been moved from that place we were in, that venue-style seating, and said we’re going to have this conversation, you know. And then I equate it to when we had, [pause] was it, is it Chris Sauter? “Plow the Flag”?E: Yeah.A: Do you remember that?E: Yeah, I certainly do, yes.A: And I think about that and how come that was, in my opinion, it was a successful conversation compared to the conversation I’m referring to. And I think like, we were all on the level. E: Okay.A: We were all in the round. We were around the piece. So it’s not getting rid of the piece, it’s not, you know, ’cause I thought about that too, well maybe we shouldn’t have been in the performance venue space. Maybe what we should have done is that everyone was on one level instead of different levels of seating. I mean, it actually goes into that kind of a [level of detail]. [pause] And that’s where I feel like we are facilitators, and, our role in the arts is to offer those opportunities for conversation, because, here’s the thing, overall, [staff members] and I from Performing Arts, we talked at length after what had transpired, and we talked about, you know, if not here [pause], where? Where does this conversation happen if it couldn’t have happened here? 103E: Sure.A: So I firmly believe that that is our role, that we offer those opportunities. We don’t, I don’t feel like it is our place to take a stance, [pause] but to offer the opportunities to have the conversations and to provide the resources to have those conversations, but also to make it a safe environment to do that. That’s my viewpoint. [pause] I think about Community Cinema. And there’s a lot of controversial subjects in Community Cinema.E: Yeah, you’ve been working with that.A: A lot. E: For years.A: It’s been fantastic.E: Mm-hmm.A: And we make sure that, again, the Arts Center is hosting, [pause] we are there, but we also bring in experts that are related to the field in some context. There’s no way we’re gonna hit all the marks, and of course, they’re going to have their own opinions, to an extent. So, we do try to prep them as much as possible, and say, I mean we have to think about that too as we’re selecting who’s going to facilitate the conversation, like, “Okay, it’s your role to help educate in areas that there may need some education to happen. It’s your role to make sure that everybody’s voice feels validated, nobody feels like [pause] they can’t say what they need to say.” E: Mm-hmm.A: And I mean, that’s not easy. The facilitators that we’ve gotten, we’ve been very successful with, you know, a lot of them are college professors and we’ve had moments where it’s becomes very controversial in the room and very powerful or sometimes hurtful. And I always appreciate that we try very hard to remind people like, let’s use our “I” statements, “I feel…,” [pause], and also remember that everybody’s opinion matters here. [pause] But you know, it’s also context, setting the context, so people, you know, and I think that’s the thing that really struck me as interesting was that, that first incident I was explaining about, that they felt they had been lured in some capacity, shocked me. [pause]E: In what way did people…? 104A: They felt they were set up. E: They used phrases like that.A: Yeah. E: “You’re setting us up to…”A: Yeah, they felt set up, to be…E: Okay. [pause]A: And I found that interesting. Not that they, that they felt the Arts Center set them up, but more that, it came from the artists. [pause] And, that’s a hard one, ’cause then it’s like, well, what’s our role in that? Do we, do we step in? E: Okay.A: And this was the conversation [a staff member] and I had. When that happens, what is our role? Do we step in to make everything safe and everything good? Or do we let it go, and see where it goes?  E: Right.A: And we did, we let it go, and we both agreed, or we all agreed, you know, we were there, we were in the room, we never felt it crossed a line. If it would have crossed a line at any point, it was done, we would have ended it. But, also we felt like, if we insert ourselves at this point, it’s not a good move. It’s really hard when you have that dicey of a situation happening.E: It is, and determining [pause] well, also, determining a line, what a line where someone would personally feel—A: Yeah.E: Because everybody’s at different points and has different experiences that they bring to conversations about—A: Absolutely.105E: Whatever topic, about development of land, about climate change, about [pause] race, about issues of, um, gender and sexuality. A: Yeah. But I go back to the thing like, “If not here, where?” So, if those words weren’t said, [pause] what are we supposed to do? Silence it? We can’t silence it. You know. And I mean, we made sure at the end when it got wrapped up, that we said to everybody, “We really appreciate that you took the time, to stay and have this conversation. Please note, that we understand that this conversation may not be done. And if you need to talk with us, we’re here. If you want to talk to somebody else, whatever you need, we understand.”E: Yeah.A: ’Cause I think that’s the big thing too, like, many times, and I guess that’s the thing about the arts holistically, we give a moment, right? That’s a moment. But it’s not done. And, how that impacts a person on their life course, we have no control over, but we can say whether we helped facilitate it or whatever, but, I don’t know. [pause] It’s never done. [pause]A: That’s job security.E & A: [laugh]In this extended excerpt from my conversation with Ann, there are multiple moving parts that indicate the complexity of “setting the context,” as Ann said (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015), or creating educational conditions for potential learning experiences. This conversation excerpt illustrates how thinking about staff roles, organizational spaces, invited participants, audiences, collaborators, interpersonal contexts, cultural contexts, and the temporary and ever-shifting nature of community collaborations and projects are all part of creating educational conditions. Ann spoke to the questions raised in this process, including the questions asked while planning and the questions asked among staff during internal follow-up evaluation. She also pointed to the necessity of engaging in creating conditions for conversations and debates around challenging contemporary issues, such as race and patriotism, despite the inability to know outcomes and the potential for discomfort or dissent in public program venues.106When thinking through creating educational conditions in response to my question about how the Arts Center plays a role in conversations about difficult topics, Ann points to a number of ways in which staff created conditions for that conversation to take place or worked with others to facilitate that conversation. Thinking through this excerpt, I first consider what it means to create educational conditions. 4.1.1 Creating the conditions as a good-enough holding environmentCreating educational conditions for potential learning, as discussed in section 3.3.2, holds many of the same qualities as Ellsworth’s (2005) descriptions of D. W. Winnicott’s “good-enough holding environment” (p. 70), as described in Chapter 3. To reiterate:  The good-enough holding environment is a potential pivot place between inner and outer realities, but it cannot guarantee the arrival of learning as the experience of knowledge and self in the making. What the holding environment holds is the potential for innovation and learning, a potential energy that waits to be released by its intermingling with the user. (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 70)Here, Ellsworth indicates that in creating a good-enough holding environment, there is an acknowledgment of the unknown. This good-enough holding environment is a space in which learners meet with new realities that lie outside of themselves, but this meeting only ever holds the potential for learning experiences that may change the learner. In that process of potential learning, the holding environment itself may be changed. Similarly, creating educational conditions means creating spaces in which the potential for learning exists, acknowledging the unknown, and recognizing the potential for museums and their staff to be changed through learning processes in these good-enough educational environments. In the extended excerpt above, Ann described these qualities of embracing the unknown, ongoing learning, adjustments to program decisions based on reflection, and how programs affect not only public participants, but also staff in a process of mutual learning. In these ways, creating potential educational conditions in museums and arts centers confirms Ellsworth’s proposal that pedagogy, learning, and education comprise a process of mutual transformation that moves away from “knowledge [as a] thing already made” (2005, p. 5), to learning as a process that is uncertain, and guided by pedagogies influenced by the contexts of spaces, places, times, social contexts, and people who 107create educational conditions. In the following sections, I address how engaging in daily practices, supporting collaborators’ needs, working within institutional capacity, and identifying and activating educational spaces are part of creating educational conditions in responsive participatory practices, and in doing so, continue to address how a “good-enough holding environment” is developed and supported in responsive practices. 4.2 Daily PracticesIn a responsive participatory art museum practice, education as an ongoing process of creating conditions for potential learning is supported by the details and minutiae of everyday tasks. These daily practices are necessary logistical tasks but are also situated within guiding mission statements and organizational philosophies. Daily practices may go unnoticed, but they are often the minor elements that coalesce to form and shape a responsive participatory practice in action. In the following four sections, I outline ways that research participants spoke to the daily practices that form the basis of their responsive participatory practice and as such create educational conditions within their museum or arts center. As they talked about these daily practices, Irit Rogoff’s (2010b) assertion that education becomes not “an institution but a series of processes and of speculations” (p. 65) takes on new depth and complexity. Through identifying and supporting qualities of responsiveness, asking questions, developing and using shared language, and creating decision-making processes based on the mission and organizational goals, participants identified tangible instances of how their responsive practices are enacted on a daily basis. To think through these areas of daily practice, I return to the opening excerpt of my conversation with Ann Brusky. I also bring in examples from other research conversations and documents shared by museum practitioners for this study, to consider what these daily practices mean in relation to how educational conditions are created in responsive participatory practices.4.2.1 Identifying, supporting, and practicing qualities of responsivenessIn this section, I share moments in which qualities of responsiveness are evident in art museum practices. By describing several of the qualities that were prominent in my 108conversations with research participants, I draw attention to the importance of identifying responsive qualities that are important to a museum or arts center within their particular context. I discuss the qualities of diversity, relevancy, embracing the unknown, discomfort, permission and risk, and responsibility that participants shared. Other qualities that arose in our conversations and through reviewing shared documents include uniqueness, shared authority, open-ended learning, sustainability, and inspiring curiosity. I list and discuss these qualities not to suggest that they are the only qualities valuable in responsive participatory practices, but rather to consider what it means to engage particular qualities derived from an organizational mission on a day-to-day basis. Similar to how Irwin and O’Donoghue (2012) identify principles guiding the artist residency Reverse Pedagogy that illustrate how conditions are created through qualities specific to a project or residency, qualities of responsiveness are equally tied to particular contexts. Qualities are identified and supported in a responsive participatory practice in order to enable processes of potentially transformative (Agamben, 1990/1993) educational and learning experiences, rather than to define what the outcomes of those experiences will be (Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012). Below I discuss some of the qualities participants identified and how these qualities support creating educational conditions.734.2.1.1 Diversity“Bridging,” from MAH Engagement Goals document, (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014)BRIDGING: Brings community members together across differences.  Celebrates diversity and encourages unexpected connections.An engagement strategy demonstrates HIGH bridging if: • It involves collaborators/participants from very diverse backgrounds • It involves collaborators on an equal playing field with each other and with MAH staff in co-defining assets, needs, and goals • It involves people who are not traditional museum users 73 In discussing qualities of responsiveness, I prioritize participants’ reflections on these qualities in action at their organizations and consider those reflections in relation to key scholars, rather than thinking extensively about the nuances of these qualities in a broader social context.109• It catalyzes new collaborations and relationships among strangers  • It creates the potential for deeper collaborations and relationships among strangers  • It draws surprising connections across wide-ranging content areas • It fosters a plurality of viewpoints, sometimes intentionally clashing cultures to bridge them   • It opens up conversations “across the aisles” of seemingly entrenched issues by building trust and reciprocity among diverse participants. Each research participant spoke to the importance of diversity in a variety of ways, from how partnerships are approached, to program decisions, to mission-based daily practices. For instance, Amy and Ann spoke about considering “who is at the table” when making decisions about projects, and also considering who is not “at the table”—in other words, considering whether diverse participants and decision-makers are included in projects (conversations with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015 and Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). A commonality in responsive participatory practices is to value diversity in the community, in staffing, and in museum programming and exhibition practices. Diversity is seen as a way of reflecting the world and of presenting the world to the community. Diversity may also be seen as a mandate, one in which non-profit arts and educational institutions that are provided public support through their tax-exempt status (for most museums and arts organizations in the United States, at least) and through public funding are then responsible for serving the broad public that financially supports them (American Association of Museums, 2002; Gaither, 1992; Weil, 1999). As seen in the MAH’s goal of “Bridging” from their Engagement Goals document, diversity is also a value embraced through specific practices and actions, such as inviting a wide group of people into collaborations and creating connections between people who may not have met otherwise. Diversity can be thought about in two ways in relation to how participants discussed the topic. First, diversity is considered as different ways of describing one’s identity, reflecting diversity in race, ethnicity, nationality, gender, sexuality, ability, religion, age, economic status, political views, and experiences with the arts, among other forms of personal and communal identification. In short, participants use the term “diversity” to address a broad range of identity markers and life experiences in this first sense. Nel Noddings (1996) addresses this kind of personal and communal diversity when writing about how “unavowable community” (p. 262) 110that is “free of the dark side” (p. 261) forms. Noddings explains that “recognition of an ‘unavowable’ community occurs within a community already established around some center—religion, kinship, geographic proximity, or perhaps ethnic identity” (1996, p. 262). In this sense, diversity is seen as a form of personal and communal identity with a recognizable center that connects people. But Noddings also sees diversity from another angle, one that reflects a second way in which participants discussed diversity and difference at their organizations and in their communities. Noddings explains that “[e]thical life, including the building of community, must start in relatedness—a concept of the individual as ‘in relation’ from its inception” (1996, p. 261). Understanding diversity as being “in relation” with those who are different from oneself reflects the values and goals described in the MAH’s statement on bridging, where they aim to bring people into relation across their differences in a variety of ways. Rogoff (2008) addresses how to bring people into relation without focusing on shared identity markers, describing this form of coming together thus:[T]he “we” I have in mind is not identity-based—it cannot be found in the named categories by which an identity is currently recognized in the world. Rather, it comes into being fleetingly as we negotiate a problem, a mood, a textual or cultural encounter, a moment of recognition. (p. 123) Here, Rogoff acknowledges a need for thinking about community and being in relation that does not focus on identity markers that might either create a static version of one’s self, or further entrench people in their differences instead of being in relation. She suggests that people instead concentrate on “momentary shared mutualities” (Rogoff, 2008, p. 123) in order to bridge—to use the MAH’s language—differences between people by focusing on shared connections.Ellsworth (2005) also describes a process of being in relation, which she explains as a process of “constantly travers[ing] the porous boundaries between self and other” (p. 61). In these “porous boundaries,” a process of learning can take place through coming into relation with people different from us and experiences different from our own. In responsive art museum practices, this can take place through programs, exhibitions, events, project partnerships, and other ongoing organizational practices and events. Responsive art museums and arts centers hold diversity as a core value, one in which it is understood that valuing community means valuing all community, including historical, present-day, future, and temporary community members. 111Diversity within the daily practices and interactions of staff members supports relevancy, and valuing relevancy supports diversity that can be produced within a museum and within a community. Relevant topics can be taking up and presented through a diversity of perspectives, or what Viviane Gosselin (2014) calls the “choir effect” (p. 112), to produce potential understandings or learning experiences about the world. RelevancyConversation with Stacey Garcia, Museum of Art & History, November 13, 2015“Relevance” excerptE: I can certainly with the place-based learning, um, the one document [MAH Engagement Goals] you had sent me, I can certainly see how that sense of place is infused throughout your goals, S: Yeah.E: in the goals statement.S: That was kind of, that’s transitioned into what we call “relevance” here, and making sure that what we do is relevant to the actual place that we live in and the people of that place, and the history of that place. But,E: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.S: originally, it stems from this place-based learning philosophy, from an educational standpoint. And a lot of the work we’re doing here has roots in education. Relevancy in a responsive participatory practice, particularly as discussed by Stacey Garcia and Emily Hope Dobkin of the MAH, is a way of paying close attention to the place in which a museum is situated, and the people, history, and environment of that place (see also Simon, 2016). In the MAH Engagement Goals document (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014), shared by Stacey, relevance is described thus: “RELEVANCE: Connected to compelling needs, assets, and interests in Santa Cruz County. Connected to our core content of contemporary 112art and regional history.” Relevance is seen as an essential principle for the MAH, as the document further articulates: “RELEVANCE is required for minimum viability as an engagement strategy. If it’s not relevant to our community and/or our institutional content, it’s not on the table” (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014).Multiple times in our conversations, Stacey and Emily referred to this guiding goal and philosophy as part of their daily practice. Emily described how in redesigning the school tours program, she and other staff focused on listening closely to community needs and history, and considered how those needs and history could form the foundation of the school tour. Stacey described the process of forming C3 (Figure 4.2), a community program that brings together leaders in Santa Cruz County to identify community needs that they can address as a group. Ann also described how relevance guides certain processes of selection, such as which artists are invited for residencies, which university professors might be brought in to facilitate challenging conversations, or which topics are addressed in programs (i.e., dance performances, classes, or film screenings). Stacey, Emily, and Ann at times specifically and at other times obliquely reminded me that considering relevance can be a way of asking, “What does this have to do with the community in which our organization exists? In what ways is it beneficial to address these topics with these people and this particular art form in this place and at this time?”As Stacey explained, “making sure that what we do is relevant to the actual place that we live in and the people of that place, and the history of that place” is foundational to the MAH’s work, and relevance is rooted in “an educational standpoint” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 12, 2015). In her descriptions of programs and processes leading to and further shaping those programs, she clarified the importance of determining guiding qualities, such as relevance, that are situated within an organizational mission statement, and then enacting them through daily practices and program decisions. This leads me to ask, “In what ways does relevance as a daily practice that responds to communities produce what that community can be?”113Figure 4.2. May 9, 2017 meeting of MAH C3 program. Photo by Meghan Puich, MAH Photo Intern. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/114In thinking about what relevance can create in a community, I am mindful of Noddings’ caution about the dark side of community, discussed in Chapter 3. Not every concern raised by a grouping of people can be seen as positive, and indeed there is the potential for needs to be raised that are detrimental to a community. It is worth repeating Noddings’ (1996) assertion that “[c]ommunity is not an unalloyed good; it has a dark side, and both educators and students should be aware of it” (p. 245). In considering relevance, museum staff members are cautioned to be aware of Noddings’ call to think of people outside categories and labels, instead creating conditions to meet those people as unique individuals in order to “respond helpfully to legitimate needs” (1996, p. 265). Whether a need is “legitimate” requires careful thought on the part of staff, taking into consideration who benefits from the topic and approach, who might be harmed by the museum or arts center broaching an issue or taking a certain approach to that issue, and in what ways the institution might facilitate and challenge how issues that might harm others are raised in a community. In the excerpt from my conversation with Ann, she pointed out that museums and arts centers need to consider the question, “Where does this conversation happen if it couldn’t have happened here?” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). If cultural spaces do not present challenging conversations, then where else are they possible? Ann stated that she sees the Kohler Arts Center’s role at times being to “provoke that conversation” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). To do so, staff members create educational conditions for a relevant community conversation by paying attention to ongoing conversations in communities; identifying topics within those ongoing conversations that can be focused on through museum programs; providing a space in which that conversation can take place; providing an art form that addresses the topic and allows the topic to be responded to in ways other than what is already taking place in a community; finding artists and other community members to facilitate conversations; and creating an environment in which it is possible for questions to be raised and voices to be heard during those conversations. Conditions for community relevancy are then created through programs—facilitating conversations around sometimes difficult topics, selecting works of art and performances, creating a certain type of environment, developing and using mission statements that support relevancy, and constantly asking questions about how practices of relevancy might be changed or enacted better or differently.115As mentioned in relation to the quality of diversity, when creating the conditions for relevancy it is important to consider who is “at the table,” as Amy and Ann asserted in our conversations (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015; conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Having a diversity of voices and perspectives through programs such as the Kohler Arts Center’s Community Partners program or the C3 program at the MAH allows for multi-sided views on issues and is one avenue through which the potential for the dark side of community might be mediated. Embracing the unknown and discomfortEmbracing the unknown74 is one of the qualities of a responsive participatory practice that research participants discussed in our conversations. Embracing the unknown requires accepting discomfort and insecurity, along with recognizing that flexibility in a responsive practice means that outcomes are always uncertain. Just as Ellsworth (2005) notes that learning produces potential and unknowable effects, responsive participatory practices are engaged through creating conditions that support unknown and unexpected results. As participants discussed embracing the unknown, discomfort often worked in tandem with this quality. Discomfort is valued and shared between museum staff, collaborators, and participants. Ann described a process of discomfort when staff facilitate “opportunities to have the conversations and to provide the resources to have those conversations” at the Kohler Arts Center about difficult topics, such as race, and she noted that discomfort had the potential to unsettle and to create learning potential for the audience and participants, the artists, the conversation facilitators, and Kohler Arts Center staff (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Discomfort can be seen as a way of reminding oneself to not see processes and knowledge as fixed, but rather to view all experiences as offering the potential to “learn that they do not know many things that they once thought were certain,” as Olivia Gude (2007, p. 14) explains. When Rogoff (2006, 2010b) and Ellsworth (2005) discuss learning, pedagogy, 74 As discussed in section 3.3.3, knowledge in responsive participatory practices honors the “domain knowledge” (Meszaros, 2007, p. 21) of museum staff while also embracing the uncertainty that comes with bringing together art, artists, museum staff, and community members. 116knowledge, and education as creating conditions for limits of knowing to be tested, they do not claim this is an easy or comfortable process. In fact, when discussing the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum as a place of pedagogical address, Ellsworth (2005, pp. 99–115) describes a pedagogically significant process that is made meaningful because it presents ideas in ways that have no resolution, and it forces museum attendees to face potential learning experiences without culmination. As visitors encounter the museum and the educational conditions it presents, pedagogical potential lies within uncomfortable and unsettling processes and experiences. Ellsworth explains: “this address from the other that holds me hostage does not teach me prescribed responsibility; rather, it stages responsibility as an indeterminate and interminable labor of response” (2005, p. 112). In this way, a museum’s responsibility to create educational conditions for potential learning is intimately interwoven with the need to unsettle and to require a response from a museum visitor. Ann echoed this sentiment, stating, “We’re tasked to challenge people in a way that, maybe they’re not comfortable being challenged, or in a way that they didn’t think about” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 3, 2015). Challenging what a person thinks they know can cause them to enter a place of not knowing what they think, which for some causes discomfort and thereby may generate a refusal, transformation, or other unanticipated reaction. However, as Ann expressed, creating conditions for reconsidering what one thinks, or causing discomfort by questioning assumptions, is part of the work included in the Kohler Arts Center’s mission-based practices. Permission and riskAnn Brusky, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, conversation, September 2, 2015“Permission” excerptA: I think we’ve made huge headway that we are more collaborative, and that we do take an idea and build off that idea and we try to find all the moments possible that we can build off of it. But we also give ourselves permission that if you can’t, you can’t force it. You just can’t.E: Sure, okay.A: And that’s the hard thing, ’cause I think that in some areas when you say, “Well we take a theme, and everything’s about that theme,” sometimes it’s not gonna work. 117E: Yeah.A: And you need to be able to say, and give the permission, “Okay, that’s alright.”E: Yeah.A: Or say, “We only have so much bandwidth to make this work, so this is what we’re going to do.” Permission at a museum or arts center, as Ann discussed in the excerpt immediately above and indirectly in the conversation excerpt at the beginning of the chapter, is about considering what is possible, what can be made possible, and what needs to be let go in daily decision making. Permission allows staff to recognize there are limits due to context and institutional capacity that in part form educational conditions through constraints, or as Ann said, “we also give ourselves permission that if you can’t, you can’t force it. You just can’t” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Permission is a way of acknowledging the limits of knowledge and learning that Ellsworth (2005) and Rogoff (2010b) discuss, while also pushing those limits. At times, an organization may give permission to experiment in programming, to pose challenging topics through a performance, to form new relationships through a new project partnership; and at other times, an organization might give permission to step away from a collaborative relationship, to let go of a program that does not meet its mission, or to transform its mission in response to changes within the organization. In this way, permission and risk often function mutually. When permission is granted for potential educational experiences, in which it is understood that potential means creating or not creating conditions for those experiences, an organization always takes on a certain amount of risk. Giving permission to change, experiment, or transform means taking risks, and taking risks means giving permission to do something beyond a repetitive “cookie cutter model,” as Ann pointed out in our conversation (September 2, 2015). Nina Simon (2011) discusses another way of considering how risk and permission work in tandem. She explains how risk-takers at museums need to have what she calls “space-makers,” and that taking risks and making space are both forms of leadership that draw on and require 118different skills. Simon describes space-makers as staff, primarily administrative leaders, who give permission and develop ongoing, daily practices that permit risk-taking at their organization. In other words, taking risks requires creating the conditions in which there is permission for risk taking, which also means there is permission for what might be perceived as failure. Similarly, both Ann and Amy discussed the need for learning from programming that “misses the mark” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015, and conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015), including understanding how the failure might have been in the expectations set for the program, not in its actual outcomes or impacts. In this way, permission is also a way of looking at risk taking with hindsight and seeing a program from new angles, which might then allow risks to be taken in new ways with future programs and projects. In art education, Gude’s (2004, 2007, 2010) “principles of possibility” outline ways to give permission to think and enact art education differently through responding to risks that contemporary artists take and taking risks with students in how art education is performed. Further, in thinking about risk, Rogoff’s (2010b) notion of changing the way cultural workers think about knowledge is relevant.75 Rogoff asserts:When knowledge is not geared towards “production,” it has the possibility of posing questions that combine the known and the imagined, the analytical and the experiential, and which keep stretching the terrain of knowledge so that it is always just beyond the border of what can be conceptualized. These are questions in which the conditions of knowledge are always internal to the concepts it is entertaining, not as a context but as a limit to be tested. (2010b, p. 4)Here Rogoff describes knowledge not as a thing already made (see also Ellsworth, 2005), but as a process of testing limits. In other words, knowledge engages processes that allow for testing limits, taking risks, and granting permission to think with what has been done before, which may mean questioning what has been known and done before. Through conditions created for potential learning experiences, knowledge is something that produces and generates; it is not a predetermined set of information that is then performed and tested (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 7; 75 Irit Rogoff’s (2010b) assertion about ways of thinking about knowledge differently and testing the limits of that knowledge also relate to the quality of embracing the unknown, discussed in section, 2010b, p. 1). Here, permission and risk inform the environment needed for knowledge in the making, and for potential learning to be embraced in a responsive participatory practice. ResponsibilityConversation with Amy Horst, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, September 3, 2015“Responsibility” excerptA: As soon as you’re really focused on a project, it can’t just be about the mission of the Arts Center at that point, it also has to be about the common good. Because the two, there is the potential that the two could cross. Right?E: Mm-hmm.A: Like you could develop a project that is so great for the Arts Center but really does not have overlap for any other group and doesn’t help them meet their needs and do what they’re doing.E: Mm-hmm.A: It’s not an authentic, true community project. And we just have to be honest about that, you know?E: Mm-hmm.A: We could still decide to pursue, ’cause part of that too is really being honest about your agenda, and other people’s agenda. So it’s based on people too. I mean, you could totally take advantage of the situation, so a lot of it is, in making sure that, people understand the [pause] power of it, and are good people that are really focused on common good, and on mission-based work, and not on self-gain.Responsibility to community members permeates responsive museum practices.76 As Amy said, “you could totally take advantage of the situation, so a lot of it is in making sure that people understand the power of it, and are good people that are really focused on common good, and on mission-based work, and not on self-gain” (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 76 Responsibility is discussed in further detail in relation to mutual transformation in Chapter 5.1202015). In other words, there are many ways in which museum staff could manipulate a situation to take advantage of collaborations. It therefore remains the responsibility of staff to identify overlapping goals and needs, and to search for how best to serve the public rather than just the staff and board of an organization. Amy acknowledged that this is a delicate line, and one that can be challenging to navigate. In a responsive participatory practice, staff members aim to work towards the best shared outcome for all collaborators and participants, or to be honest when a collaboration is not possible. There is a responsibility to serve the public when a museum or arts center decides to take on community-based practice. In choosing to claim a participatory practice that meets community needs, museum staff are responsible for determining what those changing needs actually are, finding common ground on which to develop projects to meet those needs, being honest when that common ground is not possible, and working to maintain and nurture ongoing relationships in order to continue serving community needs. This is not an easy process and should not be taken lightly. Organizations change, missions change, communities change, collaborators change, and continually determining where overlapping needs are met for both the arts center or museum and collaborating organizations, is challenging work (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). In overlapping needs, we can find Ellsworth’s thoughts on pedagogy: “transitional space invites us to reimagine pedagogy as an economy of moving forms and selves that operates through a logic of open-ended relationality” (2005, p. 57). The constant movement I describe, where staff members are responsible for searching out overlapping needs in the midst of constantly shifting contexts, is part of the pedagogical practice Ellsworth theorizes. Similarly, considering community as being responsible for other people, as Appiah (2006) and Noddings (1996) support, means that community-based museums and arts centers are always thinking about their responsibilities to others in the community and others with whom they work, including artists, other arts organizations, and works of art. Responsibility as a guiding quality of the responsive participatory practices at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center means consistently returning to the idea that “every human being has obligations to every other” (Appiah, 2006, p. 144). Diversity, relevancy, embracing the unknown, discomfort, permission, risk, and responsibility are important components of the responsive participatory practices at the MAH 121and the Kohler Arts Center. While I believe that some of these qualities, such as diversity and responsibility, are universally important, others might not be relevant to another organization. The qualities that are identified, supported, and practiced at any museum should be entwined with organizational missions and philosophies. It is the process of determining qualities relevant to one’s own museum or arts center and finding ways to support those qualities through daily, mission-guided actions that is important in a responsive participatory museum practice, not necessarily putting into practice the specific qualities described above. Asking questions is part of the daily, mission-based practices that form a responsive participatory practice. In the next section, I discuss how asking questions works to create educational conditions.4.2.2 Asking questionsIrit Rogoff paraphrases how Gayatri Spivak directs attention to the importance of questions in relation to knowledge production, stating, “It is the questions that we ask that produce the field of inquiry and not some body of materials which determines what questions need to be posed to it” (Rogoff, 2000, p. 31; see also Rogoff, 2002, p. 26). A responsive participatory practice is also formed by asking questions, including ones driven by a museum’s or arts center’s mission and guiding philosophy, decision-making questions, questions that shape an organization, and questions that are incorporated into and emerge from daily practices.77 These questions shape an organization, including how it approaches decisions being made within and extending out from it. These questions take into account past practices, programs, projects, and information from other museums and arts organizations without leading to replication. Instead, questions allow practices to evolve in a manner that responds to a museum’s environment and the communities it serves. In this way, it is not a set of best practices—or as Spivak says, “some body of materials”—that determines how a responsive practice takes form; 77 I do not engage in a comprehensive discussion of all types of questions that could be raised in participatory art museum practices; instead, I address the types of questions listed here because they were the most prevalent in my conversations with research participants and in relevant literature.122rather, the context, conditions, community, and mission, and the questions arising from those aspects, determine how a museum functions.  Each of the participants addressed the importance of continually asking questions as part of a responsive participatory art museum practice. These questions allow staff to return to their mission statements and to change programs responsively to those who have and have not participated previously. Here I discuss how the daily practice of asking questions allows staff to work from their missions and allows their missions to transform, how questions guide decision making, and how questioning as a daily mission-driven practice replaces a perceived need for models. Questions as mission-driven and driving the missionConversation with Amy Horst and Ann Brusky, February 18, 2016“Questions that drive the mission” excerptAH: There was a real focus with the strategic planning to create a set of tools, a simplified set of tools, a benchmark that we could, you know, that we could go to as a place to start asking questions on what we were proposing, as far as programming, and how we were making decisions, and how we were prioritizing.AB: Yeah.AH: Through the process, our mission was boiled down to: “The Arts Center is here to generate a creative exchange between artists and the public.” Period.E: Uh-huh.AH: You know, so that we can really ask that question, “Is this thing we’re doing, does that generate a creative exchange?” And however we might define that creative exchange through the lens of education, through the lens of engagement, through the lens of community building, whatever that may be, but does it do it? You know? So that was a really valuable process.Amy described here how entering into a strategic planning process allowed staff at the Kohler Arts Center to ask questions that winnowed down their mission into one that matches the 123current direction of the organization, allows them to enact daily decisions based on that mission statement, and allows them to transform over time (Figure 4.3). While this strategic planning process may sound familiar and obvious to museum practitioners, what is important here is the reminder about finding fundamental, simple questions that can guide daily decisions. When I spoke with Amy in 2015, the Kohler Arts Center staff and board were taking part in the strategic planning process she discusses above, and she described her hopes for that process: That’s my goal, of what I hope to get out of the strategic planning process is enough focus and clarity that I can translate our strategic plan and our mission directly into questions that affect everyday decisions. And really, that’s part of the goal of institutionalizing the strategic plan, so that it really is a usable, breathable, livable thing. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Figure 4.3. JMKAC strategic plan overview, adopted December 2015; courtesy of the John Michael Kohler Arts Center124In creating educational conditions, asking questions that both form a mission and allow a mission to change is a process that resonates with Spivak’s and Rogoff’s (2000, 2002, 2010a) notion of setting the playing field. Amy’s description of how the Kohler Arts Center’s new mission and guiding question were formed and her hopes for the new mission resonate with Rogoff’s (2010a) prompt to ask “questions regarding who produces questions, what are legitimate questions, and under which conditions do they get produced?” (p. 37). Amy and Ann explained how the conditions for the strategic planning process allowed participating staff and board members to avoid becoming mired in details or hopes for specific programs and instead to think about larger questions (conversation with Amy Horst and Ann Brusky, February 18, 2016). Why does the Kohler Arts Center exist? Who do staff seek to serve and why? Why are staff members not reaching certain members of the community or other audiences nationally and internationally? Why are staff members focusing on certain resources and not others? “Why?” is the primary type of question guiding mission-based decisions, and an essential question in allowing a museum or arts center to continue to transform.78Stacey highlighted how at the MAH, having a simple, fundamental question that guides daily practices is necessary. In describing the Theory of Change document (Figure 4.4; Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015a) that guides MAH practice, Stacey said,[The Theory of Change document] started internally, board and staff coming together to say, “At the end of the day, what are we trying to do as a museum, what kind of change are we seeking to make?” And it was so awesome that everybody in that group said, “Oh, we’re trying to make our community stronger and more connected.” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)Here, Stacey explains that through focusing on the “why” of the MAH, staff and board members were able to say that their guiding mission is: “How does the MAH make the community stronger and more connected?” This one guiding question allows staff to simultaneously make daily decisions and share their organizational mission in a straightforward manner with collaborators and audiences that are not part of internal decision-making processes. The ways in 78 Though asking “why” questions is not unique to responsive participatory art museum practices, it is an important component of the daily practices discussed by participants. 125which participants articulate this process of returning to mission-driven questions to guide daily practices is part of focusing on questions in responsive participatory practices.Figure 4.4. Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History’s Theory of Change document, 2015; courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.1264.2.2.2 How questions guide decision makingDaily decisions in museums and arts organizations about partnerships, programs, funding, resources, and other logistical and overarching details can too easily be made quickly, without considering larger implications for those decisions. Participants described how returning to mission-based questions allows them to maintain a focus on the guiding purpose of their organization. Questions allow for evaluation and assessment, for discussions of inclusion and exclusion within programming and partnerships, and for a focus on why certain choices are being made. In the extended excerpt with Ann at the beginning of this chapter, she questioned the conditions for the challenging conversation about race that took place following a dance performance, suggesting that “perhaps the conversation should have been moved from that place we were in, that venue-style seating. . . . Maybe what we should have done is that everyone was on one level instead of different levels of seating” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). In reflecting by herself and with other staff members on how the conversation unfolded, they asked questions about the conditions of that conversation, including the role of staff members and artists; the seating arrangements and positioning of audience members in relation to the work of art and artists; the expectations audiences may have brought to that conversation; and how the format for the conversation and closing of the conversation may have generated certain types of exchanges at the time and in the future. This reflective process of questioning returned Ann and other staff to the question of how the conditions for that performance and conversation might have generated a creative exchange, and how they might set conditions differently in the future to meet that goal.Similarly, Amy explained how when she took on the role of heading the marketing department in early 2015, in addition to heading the programming areas at the Kohler Arts Center, she felt able to ask questions differently and in ways that referred directly back to the organization’s mission:And this is where marketing, because programmers are so in the thick of it, that they are not going to be able to see that. [pause] And marketers needed to ask those questions. They needed to be able to say, like, “Okay, what are we trying to do? What are we trying to do with programming? Is the biggest need to just try to explain the project? Do you have general awareness of it? Is the biggest need, are you wanting to drive people to do 127something? Is there an actual exchange that you want to happen, and if so, what is that?” … I mean, it’s basic marketing stuff, you know, but it’s stuff that wasn’t being asked. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Amy considered how in thinking about marketing strategies and collateral, they were also able to pose questions about how programming, projects, and partnerships actually meet the Kohler Arts Center’s mission to “generate a creative exchange between artists and the public” (Figure 4.3; John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2015). By asking questions about the logistics of marketing pieces, they were also asking fundamental questions about why a program, such as an exhibition, performance, public event, or artist residency, is undertaken and how it meets the organization’s mission. Further, they were asking, “Who is the intended audience?” and through asking that question, staff are able to also consider who might be excluded. Once again, the questions that are produced through referring back to the mission and consistently asking why allows staff to create their own “field of inquiry” (Spivak, cited in Rogoff, 2002, p. 26) as part of a responsive participatory practice. Questions as daily, mission-guided practice that replaces modelsThere is no one set model for a responsive participatory art museum practice as Ann pointed out in our conversations (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015; see also, Gosselin, 2013, pp. 21–22; Simon, 2010). As I discuss above, there are guiding questions, especially the question of why. Organizations can begin with external why questions: “Why does this museum exist? What role can it play that no other cultural organization in this community can play?” and then follow with internal why questions: “Why this program? Why this space? Why this staff member? Why this grant? Why this exhibition? Why partner with this organization? Why reach out to this audience? Who are we not reaching and why?” These types of questions come first and are ongoing, as they lead toward and are intimately tied to mission-guided questions. For the MAH, a key question is: “How can the MAH make our community stronger and more connected?” (Figure 4.4; Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015a). For the Kohler Arts Center, a guiding question is: “How can we generate a creative exchange between artists and the public?” (Figure 4.3; John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2015). These why and mission-driven questions guide ongoing practices, and those practices refer back to 128guiding questions, which are also informed by and further inform conditions for educational experiences.While there are no set models for participation, and museums and arts organizations should develop their own models and practices based on their organization’s mission, capacity, collections, and community site, there are three things that can guide all organizations: questions, especially why and mission-guided questions; ongoing practices that are derived from and inform mission-guided questions; and qualities that support learning, education, and engagement. Questions as a mode of creating the conditions for potential educational and learning experiences allow for staff members to consistently refer back to their mission, while also pushing that mission to be something else in response to the community and contexts in which the museum or arts organization exists. Making space for others who participate in, collaborate with, or may refuse a museum’s invitation (Rogoff, 2008) is another way in which museums might engage a responsive participatory practice. These internal and external questions allow for museums to continually ask the educational questions that Rogoff (2010a) poses about who is able to make questions, which questions are recognized, and how those questions are presented. Shared language then allows staff members to communicate internally and externally about the mission and goals of their museum or arts center, which I discuss in the next section.4.2.3 Shared languageAt both the Kohler Arts Center and the MAH, I became aware of a shared language within each organization as I conversed with participants and returned to our conversation transcripts. This shared language was present as I moved from a conversation with one staff member at an organization to another staff member, and similarly as I reviewed documents shared by participants and reviewed conversation transcripts. Here I examine the ways in which this shared language worked both internally and externally as part of daily practices that create educational conditions for potential learning.79 79 While I discuss how shared language is part of creating education conditions for potential learning, I do not address at length how that shared language is formed. Here I continue my focus on what each of these elements of a responsive participatory practice is, and the forms the elements took in this study.1294.2.3.1 Internally shared languageConversation with Stacey Garcia, Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History, November 13, 2015“Common language” excerptE: One thing I wanted to ask you is, it’s kind of sounding like, in talking about how these three different documents, it sounds like it’s also as much about the commitment to the process of articulating what you’re doing, and the commitment to having shared language, as much as it is having a working document. Is that [pause], is that a correct assumption?S: Yeah, I think that if we didn’t have these guiding documents, or, common language about what we’re doing, we wouldn’t be able to collaborate like we are.E: Okay.S: So, if at any point in time there’s a collaboration that starts to go off track, or we start to do things that are not really connected to the goals we’ve articulated, this is our way of bringing it back in.E: Okay, okay.S: You know, “This is a great idea, but it’s not super relevant to our community,” or “Is this really actively engaging participants in a process, or is this a make-and-take activity that is meaningless?” E: Sure.S: We’re constantly focused on using these goals in order to improve the things that we do.E: Sure. And that’s something, and that’s a piece that I’ve been really interested in. A lot of people I’ve been reading have talked about that, of that concern, of engagement and participating, participation, being used, but not having some sort of meaningful place.S: Mm-hmmm. [pause] I think it has to be practiced.E: Okay.S: I think the hardest part is, you know, some places that I’ve worked, you have these goals, or you have a mission out there, but unless it’s part of your daily practice and your daily process in 130designing programs, designing exhibitions, you’re going to forget about it, and it’s not going to be relevant to you anymore.E: Right, right, right.S: So, it’s incorporating that into a practice.Each participant pointed to the importance of shared language for internally discussing organizational goals and developing these goals into daily decision-making processes. As Stacey noted, a “common language” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015), allows for incorporating organizational goals and philosophy into a daily practice that guides the smaller and larger decisions staff members make. A shared, or common, language works both internally and externally, and in slightly different ways in each case. An internally shared language allows goals to be expressed and priorities to be communicated among staff members. It provides a way to turn strategic plans and goal statements, such as those presented in Figure 4.3 and Figure 4.4, into actionable, daily practices. Shared language guides decisions about which programs to develop, which programs to no longer pursue, how to allocate staff and resources, how to use spaces within museums, and what collaborations to pursue outside of the museum. A shared language functions as a linguistic reminder, keeping goal statements present in the minds of staff. Stacey noted this importance as she discussed how a common language is part of “your daily practice and your daily process,” which are mission guided (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). She also observed that a common language situated within organizational goals allows staff to think about relevancy to their communities and how their programming may or may not be meeting goals for maintaining relevancy. Participants discussed how a shared language was developed internally alongside strategic planning processes, which sometimes were undertaken by staff and sometimes were guided by contracted professionals. Stacey explained how she, along with other staff, guided an initial development of the MAH’s Engagement Goals: 131S: The engagement goals, they originally stemmed from programs. When I was first leading programs here at the museum, I really wanted to have clearly defined goals for the work that I was doing,E: okayS: and make sure that I was addressing those goals with every program that I was doing.E: Okay.S: And so those goals look a little bit different than the Engagement Goals that you see now, but they did require a significant amount of bridging, participation, and relevance. Those were the three kind of integral components that I started with, and then as we kind of grew as an organization and exhibitions started changing, we started to think about those goals more holistically across the organization.E: Uh-huh.S: So we spent some time thinking about how those goals could be applied to the various different things that we do, from the exhibitions to outreach programs to community programs that are held here at the museum. And we started to develop a common language around that.E: Okay.S: And these goals that you see are a combination of a few people sitting down to really articulate and outline what are the things that we feel are important that lead to successful engagement strategies. So the document you see here is something that we all use to think about our work and how it can be improved. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)      The MAH Engagement Goals (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014) were created by a group of staff members with the purpose of articulating organizational goals to determine whether programs were meeting those goals. The process of articulating those goals “got everybody on the same page,” as Stacey said (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015), and allowed MAH staff to balance out programming across their various Engagement Goals.132Fractured Atlas, an arts consulting firm, was hired to guide further development of the MAH mission into their Theory of Change document (Figure 4.4; Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015a). Stacey explained that this process helped staff winnow down their guiding purpose through a series of challenging questions that forced staff to examine assumptions they were making in their work. Through these questions, MAH staff members determined the impact they strive to make in their community, as well as the “pathway,” as Stacey called it (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015), along which participants are guided toward that impact.Each of these processes of developing a shared internal language, through either staff-led initiatives or processes guided by contracted professionals, serves to allow museum staff to articulate goals and a language that speaks to those goals. Through a shared, goal-oriented language, staff can maintain a focus on the why of their organization, as well as continue to further develop the purpose and mission for which they work. Externally shared languageParticipants also discussed how shared organizational language functions externally when speaking to project participants, program audiences, collaborators, and other invested individuals and groups. At various points it was clear that the shared internal language is helpful in determining goals and sharing goals with people external to the organization, but that there are also challenges in communicating shared internal language. For instance, Stacey observed that while a common language allows MAH staff to make goal-based program decisions, it is more challenging to share that language, as well as the documents using that language, with collaborators. She explained that MAH staff are still working to make their internal goals and guiding documents available publicly in their ongoing work to be transparent (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015).At the Kohler Arts Center, Amy and Ann spoke about the relationships between shared language and marketing, as well as how shared language can be malleable to meet the needs of various audiences and collaborators. Amy described how shared goals and a shared language allow marketing staff and programming staff to work toward the same purpose rather than working in isolation, which could mean being at cross-purposes to one another. Amy said:133A: [W]ithin there, everybody has their own job and their own thing that they do. And in that same way, marketing has their own world and programming has their own world, but there’s common ground there and we have shared goals, you know? E: Mm-hmm.A: Because we have to. We’re part of the same organism. We’re trying to get it to live and breathe,E: Yeah.A: and thrive. So when you think about that and start to define out more, ’cause I don’t think we had fully identified what the goals were, you start to think aboutE: Mm-hmm.A: “Okay, the same goal that Connecting Communities has is the marketing goal as well.” Of just getting people to see the Arts Center as this resource and this place to come together and this place to celebrate each other. So, how can we do that through just the marketing vein that isn’t a programmatic vein? (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Amy described how programming staff and marketing staff work collaboratively to help articulate and realize goals and organizational mission at the Kohler Arts Center. The skills and “domain knowledge” (Meszaros, 2007, p. 21) that marketing staff bring complement programming staff skills, and vice versa, and through a shared language those skills and knowledge merge to make their organization more valuable within their community.Amy and Ann described how an internally shared language can also be flexible depending on an audience or collaborator. In this conversation passage, they explain how the translation of their shared language creates programmatic entry points for a variety of audiences and collaborators: AH: It’s very audience specific. We will use the words education and learning when we’re speaking to an audience that that’s the entry point word that they need to know it’s for them.AB: Yeah.134E: Yeah.AH: Where if we’re talking to community groups or businesses or others or artists, we will use different words,E: Sure.AH:’cause they’re a different audience and they’re coming at it from a different perspective. AB: So that’s interesting, what Amy is saying though too,E: Yeah, yeah.AB: not to digress, or take it off to a different thing, but I’ve been doing a little bit of reading about the term audience. AH: Mm-hmm.AB: And I think that’s fascinating too.AH: Right, yeah.AB: Is it audience? Or is it participant? E: Right, right.AB: I like to think participant, because then it’s active. Audience to me is more passive. AH: Yeah, yeah.AB: Yeah. I agree about the words, Elsa, but I think what the Arts Center does well with the words is place, place it with the different audience, or participant if you would,AH: or constituents, you know, whoever they are.AB: and figure out how to engage them, again, without them feeling like it’s being thrust on them.135E: Right.AB: They’re actually just doing it on their own, in that grassroots way.AH: So it feels authentic, and it’s not the…AB: Yeah. And they discovered it on their own. (conversation with Amy Horst and Ann Brusky, February 18, 2016)Matching terms such as engagement, learning, or education to a particular community group, individual, or audience allows Kohler Arts Center staff to engage in language—and thereby concepts—that are familiar to potential participants and collaborators, rather than forcing them into a specific way of thinking about a program or collaboration. This kind of flexibility, or translation, in language indicates another way in which the daily, mission-guided practices of museum and arts center staff embrace central organizational qualities as well as continue to shape those qualities through enacting them. Flexibility in how internally shared language is then shared with external audiences, participants, and collaborators also indicates another daily practice that shapes educational conditions within a responsive participatory practice—namely, decision making based on the organizational mission.4.2.4 Decision making based on mission and goalsThe final daily practice that functions to create educational conditions in a responsive participatory practice is the process of making decisions based on missions and goals. I have already discussed a number of ways in which decision making is guided by organizational mission and goals, namely by developing key qualities, asking challenging questions, and articulating a shared language. Another important way in which mission-guided daily practices take place is through developing a complex network of programmatic entry points that support an organizational mission and also provide an entry point into the topics selected to be addressed through programming. In talking about entry points, participants discussed how to operationalize goals through programs, how entry points form a type of public, holistic organizational curriculum, and how programs and organizational models cannot be replicated but instead need to be adjusted based on context, mission, audience, collaborators, and resources.1364.2.4.1 Operationalizing goals: entry points, platforms, and “architecture of participation”In the previous section, I address a conversation excerpt from Ann and Amy about how shared language at the Kohler Arts Center is flexible in order to meet collaborators, participants, and audiences where they are at, rather than forcing them into one way of seeing a topic or program. This notion of meeting invested individuals and groups is also supported at both research sites through an array of programmatic entry points. Participants referred to these types of programmatic entry points differently, depending on their organization’s internally shared language. At the MAH, Stacey and Emily referred to “platforms” for participants (conversations with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015 and with Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016; see also Tallant, 2010), a concept that has been well developed by the MAH Executive Director, Nina Simon (2010; see also Museum 2.0 blog).80 Amy discussed an “architecture of participation” at the Kohler Arts Center, through which programs are given structure but are also not overly determined, allowing for creative adjustments and flexibility as residencies, collaborations, exhibitions, performances, and other programs and projects come to life (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). At the MAH, creating programmatic platforms is tied to an organizational belief in shared authority. Stacey explained in the following passage:S: I think everything that we’re trying to do, we’re trying to have a learning outcome from that, and really kind of emphasizing reciprocal learning, valuing other people’s opinions, and other people’s expertise, and their skills, just as equally as institutional expertise and skills. And again, that stems back to this [pause] philosophy of valuing other people’s opinions and making sure they have equal weight and really relinquishing that institutional authority that a lot of museums have. E: Yeah, yeah.S: And so we’ve spent a lot of time making sure we’re designing platforms for that level of engagement and platforms that do equally value participants alongside, you know, really famous artists, or historians in the area, knowing that their contributions are equally as valuable. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015) 80 http://museumtwo.blogspot.com/, accessed August 29, 2018. 137As Stacey described developing platforms—or programmatic entry points—that support an organizational quality of shared authority, she explained how the daily practice of thinking about these platforms both supports and extends the MAH’s mission. Developing “flexible platforms” (Tallant, 2010, p. 187) also allows staff to think about learning processes taking place within programs, and whose knowledge is valued within those programs. Later in our conversation, Stacey described how object selection for exhibitions and community programs met the needs of participating artists and collaborators but also prompted deeper discussion about relevant topics (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). At the Kohler Arts Center, as introduced earlier, Amy developed a terminology and loose sequence of events that she calls the “architecture of participation.”81 She explained that in this process, the following steps are taken:Architecture of Participation: • Determine the need • Find an artist or project • Create the modes of participation • Facilitate the community creation process • Execute the final public outcome• Continually return to the question, “Do all stakeholders gain meaning from this project?” (Amy Horst, American Alliance of Museums conference presentation handout, 2013)82In describing this architecture for participation, Amy was clear that the steps remain flexible depending on the project’s needs and context. However, to work within a space of not knowing, risk, and permission at the Kohler Arts Center, it is important to have just enough structure to realize mission-guided programs. Extending a building metaphor, Amy said, “[Y]ou have to have the basic structure in place [in order to] . . . give somebody something to build on” (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). In developing an architecture of 81 Amy and I discussed her concept of “architecture of participation” in a joint presentation given at the American Alliance of Museums (AAM) conference in Baltimore, Maryland in May 2013.82 This information was shared on a handout at the AAM conference presentation, and was developed by Amy Horst for the Kohler Arts Center. 138participation, Amy described a process that engages what Juan Carlos Castro (2007) calls “constraints that enable.”83 Castro explains, “a certain sort of questions and prompts—described in this writing as ‘constraints that enable’—offer opportunities to create spaces of unimagined possibilities and art curriculum that resemble more closely the practices of artists engaged in inquiry” (2007, p. 76). Amy’s architecture of participation similarly allows a space of “unimagined possibilities” and a space for engaging in inquiry that is often guided by artists-in-residence.Despite the possibilities that creating programmatic entry points allows, the entry points may also work to close off possibilities at the same time. Rogoff (2010a) explains this conundrum in her critique of education as “accessible” or a “quick and easy entry point to whatever complexity we might talk about” (p. 41). Instead, she proposes the concept of access as “formulating one’s own questions” (p. 41), drawing on Spivak’s notions of questions that produce a field of inquiry, discussed previously. Rogoff says, Instead, I want to think of education as all of the places to which we have access. And access, as I understand it, is the ability to formulate one’s own questions, as opposed to those that are posed to you in the name of an open and participatory democratic process, for it is clear that those who formulate the questions produce the playing field. (2010a, p. 41). Here Rogoff directs us to the dilemma that while platforms, entry points, an architecture of participation, or constraints that enable might open up ways for participants to think about topics, they may also close off ways of thinking about those topics simply by the types of choices of how the topic is presented, artists included in a project, objects displayed in relation to a topic, or performances that take place related to the topic. Rogoff cautions educators to not simply attempt to provide entry to a topic through the easiest means possible, asserting that educators instead should present challenging questions and allow space for others to pose their own questions. Stacey and Amy both suggested this kind of shared authority in the development of programmatic entry points, and Ann discussed several ways to maintain a complex and challenging approach to topics. This tenuous space in which creating entry points might be over-83 Here Castro draws on the work of Brent Davis and Dennis Sumara (2006).139determined is one that research participants were aware of, and part of their daily practice in developing entry points is to maintain the type of openness that Rogoff describes. Entry points as a public curriculumParticipants spoke to the concept of an organizational curriculum while discussing programmatic entry points to topics relevant to their communities. Though they did not always use the term “curriculum,” the ways in which participants discussed creating a series of programs around a theme, the spaces in which the programs take place, consideration of who is present and who is not present, and the processes involved in making those programmatic entry points describe one way of thinking about “public curriculum” (Vallance, 1995, 2004). Museum scholars have written about the concept of public organizational curricula (Roberts, 2006; Rose, 2006; Soren, 1992; Vallance, 1995, 2004, 2006), and others have written about the related concepts of “comprehensive interpretive plans” (Koke, 2008) and “thematic museum education” (Hubard, 2014). In these conceptualizations of curriculum in museums and arts centers,84 a key idea is to think across an organization when planning programming (Tallant, 2010), and to consider how programs work together to create educational conditions. Roberts (2006), drawing on William Pinar’s scholarship, further suggests that museum educators consider how curriculum as complicated conversation affords a way of thinking about “the continual task of reexamining, rethinking, and rebuilding the public sphere and our place in it” (p. 111). Therefore, considering how programmatic entry points can create a public curriculum is also a way of thinking about how a museum functions as part of the public sphere.At the Kohler Arts Center, Amy and Ann described how, in the past, they posed the question: “What does a curriculum look like for the Arts Center as a whole?” (Amy Horst, in conversation with Amy Horst and Ann Brusky, February 18, 2016). In thinking about a public organization-wide curriculum, they also considered ways in which they offer educational and 84 As mentioned in section 1.4, my understanding of curriculum is that it is complex and complicated (Carter & Triggs, 2018; Pinar, 2009) and that it is not limited to programs, exhibitions, and the documents that accompany those museum programs (Aoki, 1993, 2004; Roberts, 2006). In discussing the topic of entry points as public curriculum, I describe one facet of curriculum in relation to responsive participatory practices that was important in conversations with participants.140learning experiences from early childhood through elder years. Ann described this process in her role as Curator for Public Programs, explaining, I’m tasked to think of audience and cross-over, and building new audiences and building that cross-over, and really thinking about the young ones, how they will encounter the arts at a young age and continue that growth for the rest of their life. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)In this sense, museum and arts learning as part of the scope of a lifelong education (American Association of Museums, 2002; Anderson, Storksdieck, & Spock, 2007; Falk, 2009) are realized through an orientation to education as a public, organization-wide curriculum.An example of this process of developing a public curriculum through programmatic entry points is the Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts project presented at the Kohler Arts Center in 2011 (Chaloupka & Umberger, 2011). A mapping of programmatic entry points for Hiding Places, and images from the project provide a sense of the scope of this public organization-wide curriculum (Figure 4.5, Figure 4.6, Figure 4.7, and Figure 4.8).141Figure 4.5. Mapping of programmatic entry points that formed a public, organization-wide curriculum during the Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts project, John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Mapping prepared by Elsa Lenz Kothe for AAM presentation with Amy Horst, May 2013.142Figure 4.6. Mark Fox, Dust, installation view at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.143Figure 4.7. Hiding Places: Memory in the Arts installation view at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Works shown by Deborah Aschheim. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.144Figure 4.8. Pat Graney, House of Mind, rehearsal at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2011. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.145The mapping in Figure 4.5 provides a sense of how individual programs work together to form a larger project, as well as how these programs influence one another during that project, and contextual factors for the project. Importantly, in speaking about the potential that a project such as Hiding Places provides in diving deeply and broadly into a topic, in this case memory and memory loss, Ann observed that this sort of comprehensive, organization-wide programming is not always possible. She remarked on the feats of internal collaboration and external collaboration that made Hiding Places possible, while also noting,We do take an idea and build off that idea, and we try to find all the moments possible that we can build off of it. But we also give ourselves permission that if you can’t, you can’t force it. You just can’t. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Here, Agamben’s (1990/1993) concept of potential and impotential existing side by side is present. Programmatic entry points that form a public curriculum around a central theme are sometimes possible, but at other times, staff need to recognize when such an undertaking is beyond their capacity. Permission to pursue a central theme is only valuable if there also exists permission to recognize when such a pursuit of that form of organization-wide curriculum is not possible. Flexible and responsive program models: “not cookie cutter”Programmatic entry points as an organization-wide public curriculum cannot follow a set model. This was clear in each research conversation and is also clear in Ellsworth’s (2005) and Rogoff’s (2006, 2008, 2010a, 2010b) discussions of education, pedagogy, and learning. Ann clearly stated how this element of thinking about programmatic entry points works at the Kohler Arts Center, commenting several times that there is no set model for programs and projects that can be followed. While speaking about programming, she explained what she has learned about the need for programs and larger collaborations that are flexible and responsive:A: It can’t be cookie cutter because you are dealing with people, individuals.E: Sure.A: So it’s never going to be cookie cutter. You might have certain models, and certain ways of getting people to certain places, but, 146E: mm-hmmA: you constantly have to adjust. And if that one strategy didn’t work, and is considered a failure, that’s okay,E: uh-huhA: ’cause that’s how you’re gonna learn from it. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Here Ann made several points. First, a public, organizational curriculum needs to be responsive to collaborating groups and individuals who take part in programs, to the content included in a particular project or exhibition, and to the pedagogical approaches enacted by staff members in their “curriculum-as-lived” (Aoki, 2004; see also Aoki, 1993; Irwin & Chalmers, 2007) when programs take place. Second, while there may be strategies or practices that inform programmatic decisions, these must be flexible and cannot repeatedly be replicated. Viviane Gosselin (2013) makes a similar observation while discussing community-based projects at the Museum of Vancouver. Gosselin (2013) asserts that “there were no ‘cookie-cutter’ approaches to collaboration and curation; each project called for unique parameters regarding the nature and substance of partnerships and the interpretive framing” (pp. 21–22). Finally, Ann explained that taking risks and the potential for failing is part of developing flexible, responsive programmatic entry points. Ann’s observations also correspond with Ellsworth’s (2005) discussion of transitional space in pedagogy, introduced in Chapter 3. Ellsworth describes this space as flexible and responsive to contexts and to educators facilitating that space. Ellsworth observes:Transitional space . . . depends, in part, on how an environment holds stabilizing dynamics such as habit, foundations, and already-achieved “knowledge” with flexibility. A flexible, responsive holding environment meets the self-in-transition with curiosity and playfulness, and the good-enough holding environment is open to itself being changed in turn—as a result of having been in relation with a learning in the making. (2005, pp. 32–33, italics in original)147Ellsworth makes the same point as Ann: curriculum and pedagogy should be responsive to the individuals involved, meaning that the educational conditions created remain flexible and responsive to those individuals. Further, the learning environment responds to educators and learners, acknowledging that all those who enter a transitional space hold the potential for learning that may change the self.Creating educational conditions for potential learning in a responsive participatory practice is complex. Many factors, from determining organizational qualities to paying close attention to mission-guided questions, articulating and communicating a shared, mission-guided organizational language, and developing programmatic entry points are part of the daily practices that create educational conditions in museums and arts centers. Additionally, research participants discussed three considerations for creating conditions that are ongoing but lie outside of day-to-day practices. These considerations include determining and supporting collaborators’ needs, working within institutional capacity, and identifying and activating educational spaces. I discuss these in the following sections.4.3 Determining and Supporting Collaborators’ NeedsIn this section on determining and supporting collaborators’85 needs, I focus on how participants discussed the importance of finding overlapping needs and goals in order to develop successful collaborations in their responsive participatory practices. Three primary points about collaborators’ needs were repeated in our conversations, namely, the need to determine overlapping agendas in collaborations, to adjust collaborations based on changing needs, and to consider responsibility toward community when determining and supporting collaborators’ needs. Determining overlapping needs is a fundamental concept upon which collaborations at the Kohler Arts Center and the MAH are built. Amy described some of her considerations when determining overlapping needs and agendas in Kohler Arts Center collaborations (Figure 4.9):85 Some examples of potential collaborators are community organizations, artists, funders, individuals in the community, board members, and cultural and government organizations. While I do not discuss how collaboration varies depending on the collaborator, their roles can be understood within the scope of my discussion on the overarching processes of collaboration in this section (4.3) and in sections 4.4 and 5.1.148A: I do talk a lot about that basic Venn diagram of “What does a partnership mean?” You know, you, first you’ve got to understand what the bubbles are,E: yeah, yeahA: what our agenda is, what their agenda [is]. And you build that partnership, that project on the common ground, on that sweet spot.E: Yeah.A: I mean, that’s a pretty basic, basic concept,E: mm-hmmA: but it seems necessary pretty regularly. . . .A: . . . as soon as you’re really focused on a project, it can’t just be about the mission of the Arts Center at that point, it also has to be about the common good. Because the two, there is the potential that the two could cross. Right?E: Mm-hmm.A: Like, you could go, you could develop a project that is so great for the Arts Center but doesn’t, really does not have overlap for any other group and doesn’t help them meet their needs and do what they’re doing, E: mm-hmmA: and it’s not an authentic, true community project. And we just have to be honest about that, you know?” (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)149Figure 4.9. Determining overlapping needs at the Kohler Arts Center. Graphic designed by Amy Horst and Kohler Arts Center staff for AAM presentation, May 2013; courtesy of Amy Horst and John Michael Kohler Arts Center.In this excerpt, Amy expressed that she is concerned equally for the agenda of the Kohler Arts Center and the agenda of potential or ongoing collaborating organizations and individuals. What she said is that in an “authentic, true” collaboration, both organizations must be able to meet some needs through the project and in doing so focus on how “the common good” is maintained (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Elsewhere in our conversations, she explained that if staff or other collaborators focus solely on what benefits their own organization, then a collaborative partnership is not possible. Only when both organizations are meeting their needs can collaboration take place, even if there is only a “slight, slight overlap,” as she explained (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015).150Importantly, the needs determined for a collaborative partnership are not fixed. Similar to how Ann pointed out that a public organization-wide curriculum could not follow a “cookie cutter” model, collaborations are continually adjusted depending on the ongoing changes at museums and arts centers, and within the organizations with which they are collaborating. In this kind of responsive adjusting to internal and external community needs, Stacey’s explanation of community collaborations at the MAH that are built around the concept of relevance is particularly pertinent (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). In their statement about what relevance means on a museum-wide level in the MAH Engagement Goals, staff express their concern for what their museum needs in relation to “core content” (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014) as well as the needs of community members and organizations they serve. They state this by articulating what relevance for the MAH means: “RELEVANCE: Connected to compelling needs, assets, and interests in Santa Cruz County. Connected to our core content of contemporary art and regional history” (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014). It is understood that the “needs, assets, and interests” of a community, at either the MAH, the Kohler Arts Center, or other museums or arts centers, change in a responsive participatory practice, and both the MAH’s engagement goals and the Kohler Arts Center’s overlapping agendas diagram (Figure 4.9) express this concept of change. Meeting collaborators’ needs by finding and supporting overlapping agendas supports notions of responsibility within conceptualizations of community that are central to this study. Amy expressed the importance of responsibility when she emphasized the need for Kohler Arts Center staff to work toward shared needs, rather than just the internal needs and agenda of the arts center (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). As I discussed above about the responsive quality of responsibility, continually thinking about ongoing relationality is foundational to education, pedagogy, and learning in responsive participatory practices. Part of a museum or arts center’s responsibility to community is to recognize and work within their institutional capacity.4.4 Working Within Institutional CapacityAnother ongoing practice participants discussed that supports creating educational conditions is being aware of and working within their institutional capacity. At the MAH and the 151Kohler Arts Center, this means working within organizational resources, including financial resources, facilities, staffing, and time constraints, as well as maintaining an awareness of institutional history. Working within institutional capacity means recognizing limitations on what is logistically possible in programming and collaborative projects in terms of staffing, financial resources, facilities, mission, and schedule, among other factors. Participants spoke to the importance of being honest about institutional limitations so as not to overextend staff within an organization, recognizing that working upon a false sense of what is possible from one organization can very well negatively affect present and future collaborations. At the MAH, several methods are utilized to support working within institutional capacity. Their focus on creating shared documents and articulating a shared language, as discussed previously, supports an understanding of their capacity. One document discussed by Stacey illustrates how the MAH supports working within institutional capacity and with a sense of institutional history. The MAH Engagement Handbook (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015b) was developed to help staff, board members, and volunteers understand the museum’s work; to articulate what the MAH does and why; and to create a framework for analysis and improvement of MAH engagement strategies (p. 1). Stacey explained that this handbook is useful “so we don’t repeat our past mistakes” through continuing programming that does not fit the MAH’s mission or capacity (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). An important example of this method of sharing institutional history and being aware of the MAH’s capacity is through including “retired” programs in their handbook (Figure 4.10; Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015b). In describing why the performing artist-in-residence program is an engagement strategy that is “no longer active” (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015b, p. 53), MAH presents the reasons for retiring the program—it was “too niche” and “not sustainable in terms of staff time” (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015b, p. 54). Both of these explanations illustrate a recognition of institutional capacity in terms of staffing resources, time, and mission-guided, relevant programming. Awareness of and honesty about capacity, and permission to discontinue programs that fall outside of that capacity are important in maintaining a mission-guided, relevant, and responsive participatory practice. 152Figure 4.10. Retired programs from MAH Engagement Handbook, 2015; courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.4.4.1 Determining staff rolesDetermining staff roles was a topic addressed in multiple ways as research participants discussed institutional capacity. Stacey observed how at the MAH, capacity is partially determined by employing staff that share a similar philosophy about the role that museums play in their communities. She explained that internal staff collaborations are facilitated by a shared belief in “really putting community engagement at the core of what we do” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). Further, Stacey explained that having a small staff allows the MAH to engage with their community in ways that larger organizations might have difficulty doing, and being smaller facilitates the staff’s ability to collaborate towards shared goals (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015).  Ann and Amy observed that identifying the best role for staff members and allowing flexibility within those roles was important in determining their institutional capacity. They described that staff members shift roles to best meet the changing needs of the organization, and 153to make the most of the developing abilities, skills, and experience of those staff members. Ann shared that in her role as a manager, she is often “thinking about making sure everybody’s assets are used” and that staff “roles are clearly defined enough that they can be successful” (Ann Brusky, from conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016). Though Ann discussed creating clearly defined roles, she also spoke to the importance of flexibility in those roles so that as programs and collaborations change, staff roles also change (Ann Brusky, from conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016).Recognizing and working within institutional capacity while still testing the limits of that capacity by determining staff roles, shared goals among staff, staff size, or other elements of capacity is another way in which educational conditions are created in a responsive participatory practice.4.5 Identifying and Activating Spaces In this section, I examine how educational space is identified and activated beyond organizational walls by considering the dynamics of particular spaces, relationships between dialogue and space, and how proximity functions alongside permission in making programmatic decisions. Here I engage theories and understandings of space informed by Ellsworth’s (2005) discussion of transitional space and the good-enough holding environment, as well as Dónal O’Donoghue’s (2006, 2007) conceptualizations of space and place in relation to school spaces and masculinity, and space and educational research (O’Donoghue, 2006, 2007, 2010, 2013). Ellsworth’s notion that space is more than a physical environment, rather it “is a simultaneous convergence of multiple events, sensations, actions, and experiences” (2005, p. 60), informs how I address space. O’Donoghue’s (2006, 2007, 2010, 2013) observations on the relational nature of spaces and how space affects identify formation are also important for this study.4.5.1 Beyond museum wallsThe locations of walking conversations with Amy and Ann indicate an important understanding about where educational conditions are created in a responsive pedagogy in museum and arts center spaces. It is notable that the locations chosen for those walks are not spaces physically connected to the Kohler Arts Center. However, as we walked through the 154Maywood Environmental Park and General King Park, the participants noted numerous connections between those spaces and the Kohler Arts Center (conversations with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015 and Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Similarly, Stacey and Emily spoke of community programs that connected them to organizations and locations beyond the walls of the MAH (conversations with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015 and Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016). These strong ties between locations lying outside official museum or arts center spaces demonstrates how museums, as organizations of individuals holding relationships with others, come into contact through those others in these extended spaces. Here, I refer to Ellsworth’s (2005) thinking through of Winnicott’s ideas on transitional space and the good-enough holding environment. Ellsworth says that a transitional space requires a time and place that I am able to experience as neither all inner, as in “all me,” nor all outer, as in all “not me.” Being in relation opens up a space of difference between self and other, inner and outer realities” (2005, p. 64). I argue that the extension of museums’ potential educational spaces beyond their physical walls is another way in which the “all me” of the physical museum or arts center meets the “not me” of other community spaces and organizations, and through them, other individuals. This extension also creates educational conditions by activating spaces outside of the physical museum facilities in ways that align with institutional capacity, as discussed previously.4.5.2 Dynamics of particular spacesParticipants discussed how particular spaces function differently in their respective organizations. Various spaces connected to museum content and mission around allowing openness, providing invitations to the public, and informing programming decisions. Emily explained that in the new school tour program at the MAH, the ways in which students are given freedom to move through gallery spaces informs self-guided, personalized understandings of what it means to be a community member and “community builder” in Santa Cruz (Figure 4.11 155and Figure 4.12).86 She also explained that the movement between art and history galleries, as well as studio spaces, is part of the mission-guided focus on interdisciplinary and active understandings of community, and what it means to be a part of building a “stronger and more connected community” (conversation with Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016).Figure 4.11. MAH Community Builder School Tour, Photo by Rachel Finn, MAH Photo Intern, March 2016. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/86 Emily discussed being a “community builder” in relation to talking about changes in 2015 to the MAH’s school tours program, where a transition was made from talking about topics in relation to exhibitions, with art and history discussed separately, to focusing on the concept of “building community” through an interdisciplinary tour where students discuss and enact what it means to be a “community builder.”156Figure 4.12. MAH Community Builder School Tour, Photo by Rachel Finn, MAH Photo Intern, March 2016. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/Ann addressed how the Kohler Arts Center ideally functions as a space of “openness,” or what Ann also referred to as a “neutral space” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). When Ann used the term “neutral space,” I inquired further, asking her to explain how the Kohler Arts Center could be considered neutral, particularly when the name “Kohler” can connote a relationship to Kohler Company, the Kohler family (who have a certain amount of political influence, given that a member of the Kohler family was a former governor of Wisconsin), and the histories corresponding to this business and family. Ann reflected on this and acknowledged that the idea of neutrality needed to be understood within certain parameters. Ann identified that for her, a neutral space is one with “openness” that invites people to come to the arts from their own perspective and draw their own interpretations (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Further, for her a space of openness is financially accessible, and in 157the case of the Kohler Arts Center, a free space. Finally, Ann identified a space of “openness” as one that invites people to think in ways they have not previously about topics presented through exhibitions and programs: “It gives me a different backdrop. It’s more freeing” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). While she acknowledged that the Kohler Arts Center has a history in the community, and people arrive there with various expectations and previous experiences based on that history, she also values working toward these qualities she identifies as a space of “openness” at the Kohler Arts Center.Participants observed how spaces function differently at their organizations, and how the proximity of certain spaces allows for unexpected programming decisions and learning experiences for project participants. Ann described how spaces at the Kohler Arts Center have different functions, such as The ARTery, which is a large, drop-in studio space by the front entrance of the building (Figure 4.13). Due to the public presence of The ARTery, staff members make a point of planning with resident artists how that space can be used with the public. As Ann said, having artists-in-residence in The ARTery “enlivens the space differently . . .  it also makes people think about the space differently” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Staff continue to think about how the spaces of an open, public studio are like The ARTery, or less public classroom spaces in the basement of the Kohler Arts Center, activate various elements of a residency or program.158Figure 4.13. Patrons work in The Artery with ExAIR artist Kevin Blythe Sampson at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 2014. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.159One specific element that Ann identified in relation to how space allows for unexpected programming decisions is proximity. She described how during a Connecting Communities dance residency called Raising the Roof (2004; Figure 4.14 and Figure 4.15), the proximity of dance workshops and birdhouse-building workshops allowed project participants to think differently about their participation and their comfort levels with trying new art forms. Ann explained how carpenters from the local carpenters’ union87 who had been invited to lead a birdhouse-building workshop were located next door to a dance workshop. She continued,A: And then those connections started. So there’s this common space where we’re working on building these birdhouses, [and] there’s a movement workshop going on right in a space next door. So now the dancers are conducting this movement workshop, but yet they’re coming into the workshop where the carpenters are connecting with them. E: Yeah.A: So then this exchange starts happening. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)In the final dance production of Raising the Roof, the carpenters involved in this exchange were included as performers and dancers, which allowed them to see their everyday carpentry movements differently. This sort of unexpected participation is mirrored by unexpected programming decisions, such as how Ann also described screening a film during one residency, which led to a dance residency and the commissioning of a new dance performance (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015).87 Northern Wisconsin Regional Council of Carpenters Local 731 is a Community Partner of the Kohler Arts Center, https://www.jmkac.org/participate/connecting-communities/about, accessed July 27, 2018.160Figure 4.14. Raising the Roof performance at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, a Connecting Communities collaboration, 2004. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center. 161Figure 4.15. Raising the Roof performance at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, a Connecting Communities collaboration, 2004. Photo courtesy of John Michael Kohler Arts Center.162O’Donoghue (2013) discusses how proximity allows for these kinds of connections and invitations to think differently:[Proximity] invites us to think of potential and possible connections, relations not heretofore imagined because of our proximity to other concepts, ideas, or desires to be close to them. Inhabiting a space means that we occupy a space that is always in proximity, and is oftentimes created as a result of proximities. (p. 406)Further, he notes that “inhabiting space is never static and proximities are remade continuously” (2010, p. 406). Ann’s discussion of how proximity allowed staff and artists to imagine new possibilities for programs, and participants to think outside their ideas of how they could participate, are some examples of how spaces are continuously remaking themselves, and how individuals in those spaces are being made because of proximity of those spaces. 4.5.3 Dialogue and spaceSpaces at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center at times allow for, and at other times hinder, dialogue. Participants discussed this as a factor they keep in mind while creating educational conditions. In the extended excerpt from the conversation with Ann at the beginning of this chapter, she considered how the physical spaces in which certain dialogues took place, as well as the arrangements of those spaces, shaped the dialogues taking place in either a theater or a gallery. About her observations and reflections with other staff on their role in creating a “safe environment” for conversation, Ann said,And that’s where I feel like we are facilitators, and our role in the arts is to offer those opportunities for conversation . . . but to offer the opportunities to have the conversations and to provide the resources to have those conversations, but also to make it a safe environment to do that. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)She acknowledged that a space that appears to be safe to her might not seem safe to participants, and she noted that part of her ongoing work is to identify how to continually create conditions for safe and open conversation that might not happen elsewhere (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Amy also discussed how creating a “safe environment” for conversations that might only happen at the Arts Center is part of her “architecture of participation,” and that a 163“mutual respect” is fundamental to creating a safe space for difficult conversations (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Similarly, Emily discussed how an important part of the Subjects to Change teen program (Figure 4.16 and Figure 4.17) at the MAH is providing a space for teens to explore topics relevant to themselves and their communities that they might not discuss otherwise. She explained that the topics are broad-ranging, but that having a space to “voice their opinion” and to see that as an element in creating awareness and community change is largely important for how she approached challenging topics in this program (conversation with Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016). In each of these examples of creating a safe or open space for challenging dialogue and conversations, participants acknowledged their awareness of the difficulty of creating this type of space.I understand participants’ concepts of safe spaces to mean spaces and environments in which people feel they are able to converse with others across and through their differences, as well as to bring their selves in the making into relation with other people, ideas, artists, and art objects. However, I acknowledge the challenge—which echoes challenges that participants identified—of what some scholars (for example, Hackford-Peer, 2010; Hodkinson, 2015; Stengel, 2010; Stengel & Weems, 2010) have pointed to as the “imaginary” of safe spaces (Thompson, cited in Stengel & Weems, 2010, pp. 505–506). These authors, who consider what lies beneath ideas of safe spaces and what notions of safe spaces bring into being, “question assumptions regarding what safe spaces are, how we know that they are safe, who and what they are safe for, and what they are safe from” (Stengel & Weems, 2010, p. 506). The ongoing work toward flexibly creating conditions to inhabit space actively (O’Donoghue, 2013) rather than replicating the same type of conditions and uses of space, including delineating spaces as safe for some and not for others, is what makes and remakes those spaces, and what makes new connections to people and ideas possible in those spaces.164Figure 4.16. MAH Subjects To Change Program, October, 2015. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/165Figure 4.17. MAH Subjects To Change Program, November, 2015. Photo courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. https://www.flickr.com/photos/santacruzmah/1664.6 Identifying SnagsSnags in my research data are akin to blackberry bushes, whose thorny branches catch on my thoughts, causing me to pause and take notice of an unseen and as yet unconsidered piece of information that has stopped me in my tracks, at least temporarily. These snags are contradictions to theories referenced in this study, specificities of practices in certain places and times, and details that exceed what I thought I was coming to understand as responsive practices. Snags serve to enrich, complicate, and challenge my thinking, just as they enrich, complicate, and challenge notions of the responsive participatory practices that participants discuss. They indicate that these practices are never fixed but move between notions of transfer models and responsive participatory practices, and that in responsive participatory practices, organizations exceed any set notions of a particular way of practicing responsiveness. As such, I engage these snags in a manner following that of Alecia Jackson and Lisa Mazzei (2012), who see snags as productive for considering their research topic rather than as anomalies that must be trimmed or removed: productive snags are the places where imperfections are revealed, where loose ends abound, and where we (and our participants) trip up, catch on an opening, and sometimes stumble . . . [W]e are compelled to attend not simply to themes and patterns in the narratives, but to those places of inconsistency, of uncertainty, and of productive reading. (p. 31)Here I attend to the inconsistencies and uncertainties of how education is discussed in relation to schooling, marketing, and the challenges of reciprocal relationships.4.6.1 Education as always about schools and certain types of programsA snag that caught my thinking in all four research conversations was that at various times, each participant referred to education or educational programs as only related to schools, despite also discussing the wide and rich array of educational opportunities that I describe above. In these instances, “education” seemed to be a shorthand way of saying “programs for schools,” rather than a larger concept that is accessed through the entirety of the organization (Koke, 2008), or a concept that engages with the question of what purpose education serves (Biesta, 2009; Meszaros, 2008). Stacey observed a similar challenge at the MAH; some volunteers come 167from careers in school-based educational systems, which “is great in some ways, but in other ways it prevents people from seeing what alternative education strategies are possible” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). While the expertise of seasoned volunteers is welcome, the volunteers’ past experiences might also close down ways in which education can be imagined and enacted.In these instances, “education” as a term and concept can be overly encoded with expectations of relationships to schooling, and in this way it is difficult to allow education to be seen or thought of as lying outside of particular spaces and types of programs, which may then limit how responsive participatory practices are conceived of and enacted in museums. However, our conversations about the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center indicate a much broader understanding and activation of learning, education, and pedagogy, challenging the inconsistency of using the term “education” as shorthand for schooling and certain types of programs.4.6.2 Community-based practices as marketingOccasionally in our conversations, some participants used language and observations about participatory practices that appeared more akin to branding than to thinking about relational, community-based arts practices. At these times, we discussed at length the challenges of being tasked to create a recognizable organizational identity while also attempting to generate a practice and process that is responsive to community members and that serves community needs. Participants identified how these demands to create a “brand” within their organization for financial sustainability and service to the local community can create tensions in their organizational mission and goals. Regarding the conflicting challenges of reaching an international audience and serving local community, Amy observed:AH: Leveraging both Environment Builders and others for a national level, you know, that’s a conversation we haven’t had so explicitly in the past, and I think it was a really good conversation, but what happened is that conversation completely took over strategic planning, and for a while we were losing focus on the uniqueness that was created at the Arts Center as being a very real community space, E: Sure.168AH: and a space that is a community resource and energizes the community. And that wasn’t, we don’t want to lose that. We don’t want to [pause] catch the national at the expense of all these other things that we’ve done very, very well. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)While serving a local community, reaching a national—and international—audience, and creating a branded presence do not have to be in conflict, this snag points to a tension where “the possibility of business-as-usual . . . being dressed up as emancipatory, or open-ended practice” (O’Neill & Wilson, 2010, p. 20) in museums is a concern. Specifically, this snag causes me to consider how the notion of a museum that has a national or international scope and reach often comes into conflict with the reality of smaller regional and community-based museums that do not have the capacity for an international reach. For many smaller museums, maintaining a community focus is what could make them more relevant, vibrant organizations, rather than attempting a national or international reach that is beyond their capacity.Simple solutions for promoting and reinforcing a museum’s or arts center’s mission or brand might also work counter to that goal. For instance, Emily discussed a strategy of reinforcing the theme of learning how to become a “community builder” during the MAH’s new school program by each student receiving a button they can wear when they leave (Figure 4.11; conversation with Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016). While she described the pride students take in wearing these buttons, it also snagged my thinking and caused me to wonder in what ways simplifying the idea of a “community builder” to a phrase on a button might erode the complex ways in which staff and volunteers at the MAH present this concept. Here, Agamben’s (1990/1993) observations about naming community, introduced in Chapter 3, are relevant. To restate, Agamben (1990/1993) says, “the idea of a thing is a thing itself; the name, insofar as it names a thing, is nothing but the thing insofar as it is named by the name” (Agamben, 1990/1993, p. 77, italics in original). While naming a student a “community builder” may work on the one hand to evoke “the idea of a thing” (Agamben, 1990/1993), it may also diminish the important considerations of context in which community builders work, and the qualities those community builders engage in that work. Again, I want to stress that this button is one small part of a more involved program that Emily described, but it is a snag that causes me to consider the 169challenge of creating programs that have recognizable concepts and names that may be inconsistent with the complex ideas being presented within those programs. Several scholars write about the snag of the business aspects of museums conflicting with their mission and goals. For instance, Nadine Kalin (2016) and Rina Kundu and Kalin (2015) write about “participationism” as opposed to participatory practices (Kalin, 2016, p. 29; Kundu & Kalin, 2015, p. 10). Kalin (2016) and Kundu and Kalin (2015) expose the sleight of hand that allows a museum to say it is creating programs in the name of greater participation, when in actuality, it is coercing the public into the same hierarchical roles and ways of thinking that have always been present. These scholars propose awareness of such cloaked democratic processes in museums and critique the false claim of serving community needs. Similarly, Dave Beech (2010), Sotiria Grek (2009), Rosalind Krauss (1990), and Saloni Mathur (2005) all call attention to the complexities of financial, social, and political forces that can direct museums toward self-serving branding needs. As Amy commented, the constant need to return to the question of “the common good,” rather than just the good of one organization or one individual, is a necessary way of navigating the complexities of the business aspects of museums and arts centers alongside a community-based focus so they are not in conflict with one another (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015).4.6.3 Reciprocal relationships or transactions for organizational gain?The challenge of creating an organizational identity, or brand, while not being limited by business-oriented ways of thinking also plays a role in the final snag I discuss: the fine line between inviting participation and coercing participation (Graham, 2010). Again, this was a concern that participants recognized and discussed in our conversations. It was clear that the challenge of continually working toward shared goals that serve organizations and individuals alongside serving museum or arts center needs is consistently present for research participants. At the MAH, relevancy is one way in which attention toward serving overlapping needs and thereby maintaining a focus on community needs has been developed. At the Kohler Arts Center, Amy spoke at length about the challenges of navigating the fine lines between invitation, persuasion, and coercion when inviting participation in a project or program:170E: So what parts of [Kohler Arts Center practices] are [pause] relationship building or an invitation and what parts of that become coercion? A: Coercion? Yeah. So there is a certain, like we were talking about, there’s that certain level of faith that you have to have as a practitioner, that you have the pieces in your hand that you can let the community define where it goes, but yet you’re still really prepared, and you can still facilitate an engaging moment for them. E: Mm-hmm.A: There also has to be a true sense of authenticity in your movement, and just truly, like, missionary zeal for the mission. You know?E: Mm-hmm.A: There has to be some kind of, um, ’cause I think there is a very fine line between the two, and dependent on the person, you can cross that line for self-gain pretty quickly.E: Okay.A: And I think that’s where the line stays for me, so even if it’s fundraising, or other ways, I honestly don’t believe it’s coercion when I’m trying to talk [a funder] into supporting something that’s good for all the community and all these other people. If I’m really putting it into their perspective, it’s for the greater good.E: “All the arts, for all the people.”A: Yeah. It’s still just for the greater good, so you can, so even if it wasn’t a natural fit and they naturally signed up, very few people for any of the projects that we have done would naturally have come to it without some sort of persuasion. You know, without going to a trusted member of their community, really getting the trusted member of their community to understand that it really, truly is a project that we’re trying to do for the good of all, E: Mm-hmm.A: for the common good, versus for personal gain of the artist or the Arts Center, or anything else.171E: Mm-hmm.A: And then that trusted person really talking to the community about, like, “This is a real, this is safe. It’s vetted. It’s good, you know. We can be a part of it.” So, you know, there’s some faith in the process. It’s not just—E: There’s faith in the process, but what you also seem to say is, is this question of, “Is this returning to the mission?”A: Yes.E: Is it a mission drift, or is it returning to the mission?A: Yeah. And is it returning to the mission, and is it also for the public good? (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015) While explaining the subtleties that make the relational work of community-based, responsive participatory practices so difficult, Amy indicated a number of challenges. First, she discussed the challenge of identifying whether an organization is working toward their own goals, including shared goals with collaborating groups. Second, she noted the importance of discerning whether an individual is working on behalf of their own organization and its mission or trying to coerce participants. Third, she recognized that often, invitation and persuasion overlap, and identifying the overlapping needs might require persuasion in order to ascertain the benefits of collaborations or projects. Finally, Amy reminded me that a focus on the mission and the ways the mission serves the public good must always be maintained to prevent movement toward self-serving purposes (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Janna Graham (2010) identifies this fine line between actually enacting participatory practices and only claiming them in name by pointing to processes of “participatory coercion” (p. 132). Similar to Amy, Graham (2010) reminds us that in order not to claim only the veneer of the benefits of participation, but to actually act upon them, practitioners must remember “that the word is only as valuable as its enactment in the world” (p. 132), as discussed in Chapter 3. Here Kalin’s (2016) and Kundu and Kalin’s (2015) cautions against only claiming the democratic values of participation while not actually embracing any organizational change is what leads to “participationism” (Kalin, 2016, p. 29; Kundu & Kalin, 2015, p. 10), or participatory coercion. 172Fundamental to not drifting toward coercive practices is an understanding that individual and organizational relationships fostered in collaborative programs and projects are always reciprocal rather than transactional (Gaztambide-Fernández, 2012; Trainor & Buchard, 2012), requiring that something be given from the museum or arts center as well as from the individual participant or partnering organization.With this detailed understanding of how educational conditions are created in responsive participatory practices at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center, I next consider how mutual transformation is made possible when those educational conditions are put into place.173Chapter 5: Mutually Transforming5.1 External and Internal Processes Mirroring Each OtherAmy Horst and I were walking alongside one another several years prior to our research conversations, and though I cannot recall the exact location or context of the conversation, something Amy said that day has stuck with me. We spoke about the need for changes in how museums and arts centers interact with community members to build positive relationships, and various ways in which those relationships could be developed and nurtured. Amy then made a point of expressing that while that kind of change in external relationships is important, changing the processes and relationships within museums and arts centers is just as vital. I paused to consider this, because while it may appear to be a straightforward observation, from experience and research I knew this kind of change was far from simple or common. Amy was expressing that as important as it is to be mindful of how museums interact externally, we must also consider how they interact internally with their co-workers, board members, and volunteers through developing daily practices that mirror the kinds of participatory processes through which they aim to engage with community members. Embedded in participatory processes is the expectation that change will occur as a result of taking part in programs, viewing exhibitions, making art during a residency, or getting to know fellow community members. The concept of mutual transformation in responsive participatory practices emphasizes that these potential changes are not one-sided; they occur inside as well as outside the museum.This concept of mutual transformation, with internal and external processes mirroring each other, surfaced in different ways in each of the research conversations. Each participant gave examples—shared throughout this chapter—of moments when changes in internal processes and relationships became tangible as the Kohler Arts Center and the MAH worked toward mirroring their external processes and relationships in their internal practices and relationships. Before going into a detailed explanation in this chapter, I review what is meant by mutual transformation in responsive participatory art museum practices. Mutual transformation is made possible by creating the conditions for potential transformation to occur, just as educational conditions for potential learning are created, as described in the previous chapter. By matching 174internal and external processes through changing staff relationships, considering time in different ways, and working through the organizational mission, it is possible to make changes occur for audiences and participants, and for the museum or arts center itself. The daily practices that make mutual transformation possible play a part in setting conditions for potential change—changes that are invited and embraced, even though they may be challenging. Elizabeth Ellsworth (2005) explains that these conditions for change are part of pedagogy: “A flexible, responsive holding environment meets the self-in-transition with curiosity and playfulness, and the good-enough holding environment is open to itself being changed in turn—as the result of having been in relation with a learning in the making” (pp. 32–33). Learning is a process that changes students and teachers, staff members and museums, facilitators and arts centers. These changes are often, as Irit Rogoff (2010a) points out, “low-key and uncategorisable and non-heroic . . . but nevertheless immensely creative” (p. 39). Mutual transformation is often slow (Agamben, 1990/1993), allowing organizations to continue learning through ongoing processes, just as those organizations hope that audiences and community members will change alongside of them. In this chapter, I identify qualities and practices that support mutual transformation in action (Figure 5.1), often through specific examples shared by participants. Participants identified these moments of mutual transformation as taking place in staff relationships, collaborations, through perceptions of time, by developing ongoing relationships, and through mission-guided changes. There were snags as well, highlighting the imperfect and ongoing nature of mutual transformation. Throughout the chapter, I consider these elements along with Ellsworth’s (2005), Rogoff’s (2008, 2010a), and Giorgio Agamben’s (1990/1993) thoughts on the concept of mutual transformation.175Figure 5.1. Mapping overview of mutual transformation chapter and analysis.1765.1.1 Staff relationshipsWhen conditions are created to make mutual transformation possible within museums, those conditions begin with staff interactions and work processes. This is central to Amy’s observation at the opening of this chapter and was implicit at different times during conversations with Amy, Ann, Stacey, and Emily. As I discuss in greater detail below, changes taking place within a museum or arts center occur tangibly by taking a position of being “with” community members, changing staff roles, organizing departments, considering who takes part in a conversation and who is left out, and believing firmly in and working from the foundation of an organizational mission. At the heart of staff relationships that hold potential for mutual transformation is working collaboratively, both internally and externally. 5.1.2 Taking a collaborative stanceWorking collaboratively was discussed in each of the research conversations, demonstrating how the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center are tangibly embracing a process of mutual transformation. When collaboration is highly valued, organizations make many decisions about how work will be done, how projects will be prioritized, how internal and external relationships are formed and nurtured, and how communication takes place. Collaborative processes also reflect Ellsworth’s (2005) description of mutual transformation taking place, and Rogoff’s (2008, 2010a) description of working together on shared projects. Given that collaboration is fundamental to how staff work together in an environment that supports mutual transformation, I first discuss the theoretical formations of how collaboration works to support mutual transformation, and then I explore tangible moments when this process is taking place, as shared by the research participants.When Ellsworth (2005) presents her interpretations of Winnicott’s concept of transitional space (pp. 57–81), she describes a process in which our inner selves come into contact with outer realities (such as teachers, educational spaces, objects, or events), and a space that is created between the inner and outer that allows for potential learning, as well as for becoming one’s changing self. As Ellsworth explains, learning is always potential learning, in that it is made possible but never has a certain outcome, and if that learning takes place, it results in change 177between the inner self and the outer reality, thus affecting both. As such, what she describes is learning as a process of mutual transformation.Collaboration, as discussed by various authors (Archibald, 2002; Chew, 2002; Gogan, 2007; Graham, 2010; Rogoff, 2010a; Simon, 2010) and by the research participants, is a process wherein a person or organization decides to work with other people or with another organization to achieve mutually held goals, as well as to realize goals that are not possible without the collaboration. In this process, participants choose to put their inner selves, either individually or organizationally, in contact with the outer realities of other individuals or organizations.88 In the space between these collaborators exists an expectation that as they work together on shared goals, something meaningful will take place that is more significant than would arise by working individually toward those goals. Likewise, there is an understanding that changes will occur in the expectations for a project, and whether individuals and organizations recognize it or not, those expectations point to the potential for change and transformation on the part of all those involved in a collaboration. Ellsworth (2005) states, “A space and time of potential mutual transformation exists in the difference between self/other, inside/outside” (p. 62). The space and time of mutual transformation might also be described as the space of overlapping needs between an arts organization and collaborating organizations, as Amy discussed (Figure 4.9), in which something significant has the potential to take place and where changes may occur for both organizations through overlapping goals (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Nina Simon (2010) discusses how collaboration works to engage skillsets of particular individuals in order to guide and advise projects, or generates partnerships in which collaborators make something together. Simon (2010) describes four levels of participation—contributory, collaborative, co-creative, and hosted (pp. 190–191)—wherein participation is invited and supported at various levels of collaboration. In each of these instances of collaboration, transitional space is engaged:88 I recognize that collaboration is sometimes taken on unwillingly, or through coercive practices, as discussed in sections 4.3 and 4.6.3. In this chapter, I refer to collaboration in responsive participatory practices as participants discussed it; specifically, collaboration is considered as a practice entered into willingly because of a value placed on it by the museum, arts center, and other organizations or individuals entering the collaboration. Each benefits from the collaboration, and no one enters through coercive practices.178The limits of our knowledge of self, of other, and of the world require us to put ourselves in relation while at the same time keeping ourselves separate. What we cannot know requires us to constantly traverse the porous boundaries between self and other, individual and social, personal and historical. We cannot know self in absence of separate different others. We cannot know others in absence of self. . . . We think only in relation. (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 61).Embracing collaboration as a way of supporting mutual transformation means constantly working across the “porous boundaries” of self and other, creating spaces in between that are in motion and are constantly transforming that mutually held space, as well as the self and the other who creates space in between. While working collaboratively as a way of being in relation and working to create relationships is often mentioned as one of the important processes through which collaborations take place (Chew, 2002; Gogan, 2007; Simon, 2010), it is also important to recognize that collaborations have limits. Rogoff (2010a) explains: “At its best, education forms collectivities, many fleeting collectivities which ebb and flow, converge and fall apart. Small, ontological communities are propelled by desire and curiosity, cemented together by the kind of empowerment that comes from intellectual challenge” (p. 39). The kinds of collectivities that Rogoff comments on are formed through collaborations and encounters, wherein organizations and individuals come together over shared goals and shared interests—or by “desire and curiosity,” as Rogoff says. However, while collectives of people are formed through collaborations, that does not mean that relationships formed in these collectives last forever. Coming together does not mean staying together; rather, it means coming together when the overlapping area of mutual needs Amy referred to makes sense for the shared goals and projects of organizations and individuals. Coming together for a collaboration also does not mean having to identify through one’s identity; instead, Rogoff (2008) describes a process of forming “momentary shared mutualities” that come “into being fleetingly as we negotiate a problem, a mood, a textural or cultural encounter, a moment of recognition” (p. 123). A “we” is formed temporarily through a shared interest, a shared experience, or a shared project, but that “we” is not permanent, though it is not 179considered any less meaningful for being temporary. As Rogoff and Ellsworth acknowledge, even a temporary collaboration has the power to transform all those involved.In what ways is collaboration then made possible internally in museums and arts centers? Participants gave a number of examples of how they work collaboratively at an internal level, through which they are able to make collaborations possible externally. Stacey explained that at the MAH, having an organization-wide belief in collaboration, and valuing skills that others hold, allows their staff to work collaboratively on an internal and external level: S: I think that’s kind of at the heart of the MAH—collaboration. It’s one of our core values as an organization. And it’s something that we’re good at, but we also have a lot of improvement to work on with. So, it’s something that we value immensely here, and a lot of the work that we do would not be possible if we weren’t collaborating with each other and if that wasn’t really fluid. Um, but that being said, we have a lot of room to improve as well. E: Mm-hmm.S: But oftentimes, a project here will have different departments of the museum working together on a specific project, using their skills to bring to the table, and working together to really put forward our best assets, E: mm-hmmS: and a lot of the big, strategic initiatives that have happened over the past couple years have been projects that have required intense collaboration, or at least coordination with many different members on staff.E: Okay.S: So that is super integral to the work that we do here. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)For Stacey, valuing co-workers’ skills and collaborations, and working with a smaller staff size all allow the MAH to come together internally and to work across the “porous boundaries” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 61) of departmental divisions to make strategic initiatives happen (see also Tallant, 2010). This organizational value of collaboration means that a particular kind of stance is chosen (Trainor & Bouchard, 2012) in which processes are approached from a perspective of 180what can happen with others, rather than what one person can do individually. Taking on a stance of collaboration means that there is never one set way to collaborate internally, but rather, as Stacey observed, the kinds of processes engaged are “fluid” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015), changing depending on the people involved, project goals, resources needed, and other factors coming together as inner realities and outer realities converge in a potential space of learning and transformation. Another area in which a collaborative stance is created within arts organizations is communication. Stacey described how at the MAH, when they developed their ongoing strategic plan, staff collaborated to “develop a common language” around their organizational goals; she explained that this common language “got everybody kind [of] on the same page and [in] the same kind of mentality” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). Having a common internal language allows MAH staff to work together internally toward shared goals, and to collaborate effectively with outside individuals and organizations by sharing their language that communicates their internal vision, beliefs, and goals. This means that creating a shared internal language allows for the inner reality of the MAH to be shared with the outer realities of collaborators, making a space of mutual transformation and learning possible. In the following, I look more closely at how participants discussed supporting mutual transformation through staff relationships and working processes, and through taking a collaborative stance organizationally.5.1.3 Changing staff and staff rolesAmy, Ann, Stacey, and Emily all offered examples of how their museum or arts center reorganized staff relationships to mirror the kinds of relationships and interactions they have within their communities. For instance, Ann described how the decision-making process for performing arts and visual arts residencies was changed, saying, “[T]his is what I love about public programs—I find it’s more successful when it comes from within the team, and not from the top-down aspect” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). She further explained this relationship among staff members, saying, “I work with them. We’re all in it together. It’s got to be collaborative. And I think that’s it, it’s a collaborative conversation” (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Shifting away from a hierarchical decision-making process 181internally mirrors the intention of the Kohler Arts Center to find overlapping needs with community members and community organizations, rather than telling community members what is taking place and determining their participation. Changes in staff roles are indicated by staff titles and departmental organization alongside the more intangible elements of daily working practices. At the MAH, for example, staff are organized into the “Fuel team,” the “Engage team,” and the “Empower team,” focusing on the actions that staff within those teams will take.89 Staff titles include a mix of roles, such as “manager” and “director,” but also action titles, such as “design spark” and “dialogue catalyst.” These staff titles point to an intentional use of language to indicate how the internal roles will change alongside internal and external processes and interactions. Using different titles mirrors more closely the kind of language present in the MAH’s mission and allows for different kinds of relationships to occur among staff members and between staff and the community. With, not forOne important possibility signaled by the shift in staff and departmental titles, as well as daily working practices, is that museum and arts center staff work with, not for, community members (Gogan, 2007). Jessica Gogan (2007) describes this dynamic:The process of opening up the museum’s mediating role also means understanding and fundamentally valuing that we are learning not only from but also with our audiences; in other words, we see ourselves as learners, too, and expect to change in the process. (p. 232, italics in original)This expectation of changing in the process of learning is fundamental to Ellsworth’s (2005) descriptions of learning as a process of mutual transformation and indicates how museum staff take a collaborative stance. Shifting staff roles and working processes signals something larger than a simple redistribution of tasks; at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center, it indicates that staff members are not creating something for their various communities; they are creating with those communities. In this process of working with their communities, they expect to be 89 Information about the MAH’s team structure and staff titles was found at https://santacruzmah.org/about/contact-us/, accessed August 29, 2018.182changed, just as Gogan (2007) observes from her own experiences of working with community-based museum practices. Breaking down departmental silos Changing departmental structures and staff roles also means taking a collaborative stance among staff within a museum. Research participants spoke about how collaborative work allows staff to work outside of their roles and to break down departmental “silos,” as Ann referred to these divisions (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015; see also Tallant, 2010), while still drawing upon their individual expertise and “domain knowledge” (Meszaros, 2007, p. 21), as discussed in Chapter 3. After being at the Kohler Arts Center for more than a dozen years, Ann has had the opportunity to work in multiple roles and departments and brings this breadth of experience to her reflections: A: When I think about where we were when I started at the organization, we have changed so much. It’s crazy. I love it. You know, there wasn’t, when I started at the Arts Center I felt like Performing Arts and Exhibitions, there was no connection, no talking. We said “hello” of course but there weren’t those moments. Now I feel like there is this [pause] exchange happening. And it’s not top-down, it’s not, “eat this, it’s good for you,” it’s an exchange. And it’s a relationship that you want to collaborate in, and you feel safe in collaborating in, and exhibitions does come to the table with public programs, and vice versa. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Ann continued later to express other benefits from working across departmental divisions:A: I think that if you, when you have those silos,E: Mm-hmm.A: and that hierarchical thing happening, what happens is that tunnel vision in the process. And it’s very easy to become so acclimated with that—that that’s all you think about. And then it becomes almost cookie cutter. E: Okay.A: But, if we don’t have that, and we’re charged to be collaborative and challenge one another, we end up looking outside that silo and breaking down the silo. 183E: Mm-hmm.A: Which I think is important, and needed. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Here Ann reflected on the possibilities and opportunities that arise within the Kohler Arts Center when staff members work across their departmental divisions. Unexpected changes to programs and more in-depth exploration of topics are some of the ways that cross-departmental collaborations create potential for internal transformation. Similarly, Graham (2010) addresses how transversality in work roles makes possible different kinds of relationships and different kinds of pedagogy (pp. 134–137). She describes examples of experimentation with shifting roles and rotating through a variety of daily tasks within an organization, in an attempt to remove closures that tend to occur in staff members’ thinking when they are limited to one role. Graham (2010) raises this idea of moving transversally and collaboratively across tasks in order to explore the question, “[W]hat other kinds of pedagogy might emerge” (p. 134) when staff move outside their routine interactions and daily activities? This is similar to how Ann observed that moving outside of departmental isolation into collaboration allows for new kinds of relationships to emerge and different kinds of programming to occur. Considering who is “at the table” Both Ann and Amy used the phrases “coming to the table” or thinking about “who is at the table” as they described collaborations at the Kohler Arts Center (conversations with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015 and Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Ann’s description of having the exhibitions staff coming to the table with public program staff mirrored other uses of this phrase when Ann and Amy discussed having various community organizations and members of the community “coming to the table” with Kohler Arts Center staff (conversations with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015 and Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Their reflections on “who is at the table”—and, importantly, who is not at the table but should be—were another instance of 184internal processes reflecting external processes, thus showing how the kinds of transformations they are implementing outside the Kohler Arts Center are also taking place inside it. Ron Chew (2002) explains his belief that staff diversity is fundamental to creating a rich, community-based museum. Chew says this is because “[t]he whole process of creating a different kind of museum—a community-rooted museum—begins with the hiring of people with different kinds of skills. . . . We value the relationships that people bring to the institution” (2002, pp. 63–64). In other words, bringing together a diverse staff in a collaborative setting invites new people “to the table.” This kind of purposeful change in who makes up the museum or arts center staff is fundamental to changing how the organization functions. Staff belief in mission Mutual transformation is supported when staff members who believe deeply in the mission of the museum or arts center are hired. Stacey described ways in which MAH staff members work from their mission. “I think a lot of the people here who are currently on staff have that same shared philosophy of making the museum a community-centered place, and really putting community engagement at the core of what we do” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). Similarly, Amy explained how “a true sense of authenticity in [an organization’s] movement” or “missionary zeal” is part of what protects healthy reciprocal relationships from becoming coercive (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). As I addressed in Chapter 4 and discuss further in this chapter, working from the mission on a daily basis allows for different ways of approaching community relationships, and also supports mutual transformation by generating daily practices that create room for working and interacting in different ways. As I discuss throughout this chapter, one of those key ways of working is through collaboration. Another way of allowing for mutual transformation is attending to time, especially by allowing time and space for changes to take place.5.2 Time Time stretches, contracts, and passes in moments in responsive participatory art museum practices. Paying attention to time either in the moment or through reflection allows for slow changes to occur—changes that take place in multiple directions rather than along one set path—185and those changes have no final certain outcome. Amy, Ann, Stacey, and Emily discussed how they attend to time, allow for time, and when possible, do not demand set outcomes within a firm time limit. They explained how they created time within their organizations as part of the conditions that support mutual transformation; sometimes they created this time purposefully, and sometimes making time was indirectly embedded in their ongoing daily practices and organizational missions.In this section on time, I discuss how participants and scholars see transformations taking place slowly, which means allowing adequate time for changes to occur rather than forcing them; how responsive participatory practices offer moments that allow time for meaningful changes and learning to happen; and how time functions relationally in responsive participatory practices. In addition to the work of previously mentioned theorists, Jack Richardson’s (2013) writing has been particularly useful in thinking about time in relation to responsive participatory art museum practices.5.2.1  “Infinite modal oscillations” Contrary to ideas about quick and dramatic revolutionary changes, which are related to other forms of participation, in a responsive participatory practice, transformation takes place slowly, over time, and often in undramatic ways (Graham, 2010; O’Neill & Wilson, 2010; Rogoff, 2010a). A slow passage of time and change align more closely with Agamben’s (1990/1993) description: “the passage from potentiality to act . . . is not an event accomplished once and for all, but an infinite series of modal oscillations” (p. 19). Time and transformation do not march hand in hand toward a set finish line, with participants picking up the pace as they move toward that end goal. Instead, in responsive practices, time and transformation move slowly and in unknown and undetermined directions. As participants spoke about transformations taking place internally and externally, time seemed to move at varying speeds, and often folded in on itself as a conversation or idea from the past manifested in the present or was held onto as a possible project for the future. Both Ellsworth (2005) and Richardson (2013) discuss this layering and multidirectional movement of time as parts of learning processes. Ellsworth describes the folding of time as part of a pedagogical hinge, and Richardson (2013) describes time as a process of both hinging and 186becoming “unhinged” (p. 90). Ellsworth says, “We find ourselves at a temporal hinge where past and future fold into proximity and create the time between past and future: the interval of change” (2005, p. 68). She also observes that this time of transition, or mutual transformation, is “pedagogy’s time” (2005, p. 69); it is the space and time in which the potential for learning exists. Richardson (2013) draws on Deleuze’s theories of time in relation to building subjectivity and creating thought, as he discusses a site-specific installation titled Fortress.90 In describing the three “syntheses,” or concepts, that form Deleuze’s ideas about time, he explains that in the second synthesis, past and present are reconfigured to exist simultaneously. Memories are not simply recalled; the past that forms and informs people and objects in a particular situation—in this case, Fortress—actually produces the present as it is taking place. Simultaneous existence of past and present then makes the future possible by providing space for thinking in different ways. Richardson says: Recalling a specific past event, such as earlier experiences creating and occupying similar structures, affects the present by bringing a specific past in contact with a specific present and simultaneously altering both. Making present a complicated and convoluted sense of time is what a work like Fortress does. It provides the foundation for new thought—not just an environment where one might think differently, but where new thought is the only possibility. (2013, p. 102)Learning as a process of thinking new thoughts and understanding in new ways occurs because the past is part of the present and opens up different potential futures. Richardson continues, “[T]hought, like time, itself transforms both thinker and experience—a transformative process more accurately articulated as learning that opens up the future to difference and variation rather than reflection and reiteration” (p. 106). Therefore, how time folds together the past and present 90 As Richardson describes (2013), Fortress was created by two students who participated in Richardson’s and Sydney Walker’s 2011 course “Artmaking as an Encounter” at Ohio State University. In Fortress, the two student artists entered a university library, used books and sheets to create a fort, inhabited the fort while reading books, listening to music, resting, and chatting, and then deconstructed the fort after 45 minutes. The students subsequently shared video documentation of Fortress online.187to make different methods of thinking about the future possible also makes mutual transformation possible through considering different futures.How then do Agamben’s (1990/1993) “infinite series of modal oscillations” (p. 19), Ellsworth’s (2005) pedagogical hinges, and Richardson’s (2013) folding of past, present, and future relate to how time functions as part of mutual transformation in responsive participatory practices? Participants discussed their recognition of how time slows, how they produce time in order to understand and think in new ways, how their processes of transformation are uncertain and often occur in moments, and how time is always relational. Taking time to build capacity Rather than “understanding . . . time as something that just is,” Richardson views time as produced (2013, p. 106). Human and non-human entities affect how time is produced, and it is possible both to affect how time passes and to attend to the ways in which time folds onto itself. Richardson argues that in order to think about pedagogical processes differently, and in ways that allow for transformative thinking, art educators should consider the role time plays in pedagogy and how time can produce different art processes and products (2013, pp. 106–107). Similarly, museum practitioners can consider the ways in which time is made in their daily practices and how that affects their ability to engage in responsive participatory practices. For instance, practitioners can consider how the pace of time can be slowed to allow for greater attentiveness to how past, present, and potential futures are being created for projects (Agamben, 1990/1993). Practitioners can also think about how past projects influence present and future projects through the relationships that were created over time, in different places around a community, and in relation to various works of art. Stacey, Emily, Ann, and Amy talked about this process of producing time in terms of building capacity through purposeful conversations and reflection at their organizations. Time did not always simply pass by as they marked off tasks completed (though sometimes this did occur); time was often purposefully made in order to think about what their museum or arts center was doing, and how and why they were doing those things. For example, Ann and Amy discussed programmatic changes that were part of a larger strategic planning initiative taking place at the Kohler Arts Center. They explained how those 188changes were taking place across years, not just within the time allotted for strategic planning meetings: AB: With what Amy’s saying, I think a big thing about that too, as you know Elsa, is time. E: Yeah.AB: Allowing ourselves to have some slack in our time to think it through.E: Right, right.AB: And that’s really difficult, and that’s why it does take as long as it does. (Ann Brusky in conversation with Amy Horst and Ann Brusky, February 18, 2016)Time is being made for thinking about how change can occur within their organization, even if it is challenging to make time for that reflection and consequently change happens slowly. As Ann explained, transformation is challenging in part because of the need to make time for that transformation; but that also means making time is valued in order to produce changes and to think in different ways about their organization.91 Another example shared by Stacey relates to the C3 program she oversees at the MAH. She explained that the program started with an advisory group that was informing how decisions were being made internally at the MAH. After a while, staff members decided to put the program on hold to make time to develop internally while reflecting on information shared by the advisory group. After staff took time to develop their programs and ideas around gathering information about the needs of the communities in Santa Cruz, Stacey described how C3 was developed as a way not just to inform MAH programs, but to inform organizations all around Santa Cruz: S: I think two years later we started up C3 again, and this time when we started it up, we thought, “You know, some of the things that we’re talking about in terms of outlining community issues and community needs and assets, those things would be super helpful to other people in our community and other organizations in our community. So why 91 Making time for evaluation and assessment is also part of building capacity and is discussed further in section’t we apply a similar technique, and open it up and make it more about Santa Cruz, and less MAH-centric. And still use that information to make sure that what we’re doing, if it’s hitting that relevance goal in our engagement goals,E: Right, right.S: but, do it in a way that’s not self-centered.” E: Uh-huh.S: And I love the transition of that. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)It was important to allow time to develop internally at the MAH so staff had the capacity to shape a program that was relevant and useful for the community. Instead of forcing an immediate transition of the program from an internal advisory board to a larger community-based exchange, staff at the MAH stepped back from one program to allow change to occur, by allowing time for thinking about how the program could function differently in order to serve Santa Cruz differently. Making time for transformation through thinking in different ways about programs and organizational goals relates directly to another function of time in responsive participatory practices, namely, creating moments of time that are undetermined and flexible. Momentary time that is uncertain, undetermined, and flexible In the conversation excerpt with Ann at the start of Chapter 4, Ann explained how staff members at the Kohler Arts Center offer a “moment” in which people can connect, reflect, question, reject, or just be (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015). Offering a moment in time where the conditions are created for potential learning and transformation is what Ellsworth (2005) and Richardson (2013) describe as a hinge or a pivot place. Ellsworth discusses in detail how a pedagogical hinge or pivot place is a space and time in which the inner reality of a person comes into contact with the outer reality of a new person, idea, object, or something different from one’s self. The moment in which transformation is possible is when the person who creates educational conditions “simultaneously fills and empties its pedagogical pivot place. . . . [Conditions become] pedagogical at the paradoxical moment when the force (the 190‘teacher’) that ‘springs’ transitional space simultaneously appears and disappears” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 65, italics in original). Staff members create educational conditions that offer context, content, and time for learners to consider new ideas, but they also make space and time for people to address those ideas (or art objects, conversations, spaces, etc.) that are new to them in their own way. In this way, audiences, participants, visitors, and staff can be changed, even if that change is to consider something new and refuse it (Rogoff, 2008), through entering into the time and space of a pedagogical hinge that is part of the educational conditions created by museum staff.Richardson describes how a “space of novelty” folds the past into the present and thus “presents the future as pure difference” (2013, p. 104) or as “empty and pure form” (Deleuze, 1994, p. 88, cited in Richardson, 2013, p. 104). The moment that Ann described is one in which time is suspended and space and time are made so that learners (or audience/participants/collaborators) have the potential to transform and by doing so, hold the potential for new thought and learning to occur. As Ann observed, it is not possible for staff to determine the outcomes of creating this moment, or pedagogical hinge; furthermore, that moment is ongoing: A: I think that’s the big thing too, and I guess that’s the thing about the arts holistically, we give a moment, right? That’s a moment. But it’s not done.E: Yeah.A: And how that impacts a person on their life course, we have no control over, but we can say whether we helped facilitate it or whatever, but, I don’t know… [pause]E: Mm-hmm.A: It’s never done. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)The hinge or pivot point created in a moment is one that holds the potential for transformation, but this is an uncertain and undetermined transformation because it remains open and flexible rather than over-coded with expectations of particular outcomes. Ann indicated two important functions of how time is produced at the Kohler Arts Center: first, that it is offered in meaningful moments (determined to be meaningful through staff 191members’ reflective evaluation or audience responses); and second, that those moments have undetermined and uncertain outcomes. Allowing for space and time with uncertain outcomes is challenging and takes a certain amount of permission and risk taking. But as Ellsworth (2005) notes, it is also what offers a way of considering learning as a process in the making, rather than learning as a compliant process of gathering “static” knowledge (Richardson, 2013, p. 105). Ellsworth explains that during the folding of past and present to create a pedagogical hinge, the events of this enfolding . . . are unrepeatable and disappear without leaving a trace. The force that “teaches” in the time of these projects must disappear because it is not an answer. By disappearing, it refuses to serve as an answer. (2005, p. 69, italics in original)In other words, the potential transformation or learning process that is set into motion when past folds into the present and opens possible futures does not have a fixed outcome (see also Irwin & O’Donoghue, 2012; Ruitenberg, 2011, p. 219). That momentary hinge can only create conditions for potential learning if learning has no particular predetermined outcome. Ellsworth goes on to say, “The creative, playful activity that is learning requires a playmate who does not dominate and who is not preoccupied with his agenda or with a predetermined outcome” (2005, p. 76). She explains that this does not mean the teacher—or facilitator of an arts experiences (as Ann described during our conversation in 2015)—has no role in creating the moment (2005, pp. 76–77; see also Meszaros, 2006, 2008). In fact, creating the conditions for a pedagogical hinge or pivot place, such as the moment Ann described, is precisely what the teacher or facilitator offers. Instead, any desire for everyone to leave that moment with the same experience has to be released, then replaced by an embrace of the uncertainty of potential learning. While this may seem to be in direct conflict with the kinds of educational assessment and fundraising that require predetermined goals and outcomes, I see it simply as a shift away from focusing on the specific content that one walks away with, towards a focus on the goal of creating an environment in which people find multiple points of access and are invited to bring themselves—and their pasts, presents, and futures—alongside the programs offered through responsive participatory practices. This invitation to participate in a learning process signals the importance of relationships in how time and mutual transformation are considered in responsive participatory practices. 1925.2.2 Time as relational Time as a relational concept is another way conditions are created for mutual transformation, as addressed in the following three sections. Participants described time as relational in terms of specific relationships with individuals and organizations, and also by discussing the concept of time as a way of connecting to the world around them. Specifically, Ann, Amy, Stacey, and Emily described the importance of time in ongoing relationships with individuals and organizations, how time relates to extending those networks beyond museum walls, and how guiding the qualities and concepts of the organization are infused in a concept of time at their organizations. Ongoing relationships The relationships at the heart of responsive participatory practices at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center are formed through an understanding of ongoing time and Agamben’s “infinite series of modal oscillations” (1990/1993, p. 19). Relationships are shaped and sustained over periods of time, with continually changing variations in those relationships. As discussed earlier, time folds together the past, present, and future not only of an individual, but also of the people, things, and contexts in which individuals have the potential to learn and to transform (Richardson, 2013). In this way, time is always relational because it is always bringing together past experiences into the present through objects, conversations, relationships, and contexts that open up different futures (Richardson, 2013). Relationships in responsive participatory practices reflect the folding of past, present, and future through the ways that the relational nature of time is acknowledged in processes of mutual transformation.Participants primarily discussed ongoing relationships in terms of collaborations. Ann and Amy described how a 4K partnership developed between the Kohler Arts Center’s preschool program and the Sheboygan School District because of their ongoing collaboration, which allowed for multiple conversations about how that 4K partnership might develop and be sustained (conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016). Stacey explained how the C3 program developed out of a years-long relationship with community organizations and individuals and in response to conversations about community needs (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). Amy described how two different residencies were initiated 193because of ideas that had been shared about the physical spaces in the city of Sheboygan, as well as how the city and the Kohler Arts Center could be more connected through collaboration on projects and actual, physical pathways (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). These ongoing relationships occured because of the collaborative stance taken by the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center. In taking this stance, staff members ask, “Is this going to be a project or a relationship, and how would you orient yourself differently in a project if you were committed to a relationship?” (Graham, cited in Gogan, 2007, p. 235). Committing organizationally to ongoing relationships makes projects possible over time because of the recognition of how the past folds into the present and the possible futures of those collaborative projects. How organizations and individuals interacted in the past through various projects and programs then informs how present projects take shape and opens up different possibilities for future projects. Embracing ongoing relationships also means supporting the kinds of slow, “modal oscillations” that take place as organizations and individuals change over time.Importantly, thinking about relationships is not only an ongoing process but can be a temporary process as well, as Rogoff (2010a) points out when she discusses “fleeting collectivities” (p. 69) that come together through shared interests. Though those relationships may not be ongoing, meaningful short-term collaborations are possible when museums and arts centers take a collaborative stance. Similarly, a relationship between individuals might be temporary when they come together for a collaboration, but that relationship can be made possible through long-term relationships formed between organizations. A collaborative stance opens up an organization to the possibility of coming together with community members over time and in ways that allow for mutual transformation through collaborative projects and ongoing partnerships. Networks of relationships beyond physical museum borders and staff Relationships that form the foundation of collaborations and partnerships are made possible over long periods of time. Those relationships also function because they extend into the time and space outside of a museum or arts center, or as Ellsworth puts it, extend beyond an organization’s inner self into the “porous boundaries” between inner and outer realities (2005, p. 61). In other words, a network of relationships is not contained within the boundaries of a 194museum or arts center; it must extend beyond itself to engage with community, and to create space and time for thinking in new ways that open up the potential for mutual transformation (Ellsworth, 2005; Richardson, 2013). Chew (2002) comments on the necessity of extending relationships to make transformation possible: “In the long run, you’re trying to build lasting community linkages . . . by extending tentacles into many places, so that the strength of the organization is not built on a few small connections, but fed by a whole network of roots” (p. 63). The connections he talks about take place over time, are nurtured by staff who are valued for the connections they bring to a museum, and move outside of the space of the museum through a relational network. Valuing the space/time of an extended network creates an opening for “pedagogy . . . [as] a mutually transforming relation with outer events, selves, objects, and ideas” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 7). Ann discussed a specific example of how the partnerships developed at the Kohler Arts Center through their Connecting Communities and Community Partners programs are supported by purposefully extending beyond the space and time of the internal organization: A: You need to be cognizant of when you want that space, or when you need to go to somebody’s space. E: Okay.A: So, when I think about Connecting Communities we have these amazing Community Partners, we can’t expect people to always come through our doors. E: Sure.A: That’s sure not gonna happen. You have to be cognizant to go to their place.E: Uh-huh.A: It’s not, [pause] an arts center does not, I know people would disagree, but an arts center is not based on its walls. [pause] You know, it should be in your community, it should be in your community, beyond the walls.E: Mm-hmm.195A: I think that’s important, so that’s why I think it’s important that we do go outside, and meet with partners, or go to their meetings, or go to their events, or their functions. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015) As Ann explained, making time to move beyond the walls of the Kohler Arts Center creates time and space to think and act in different ways, making possible new kinds of connections. Going to a partner’s meeting or event, or just dropping in to visit their site, creates a transitional space and time by moving outside of habitual spaces and work habits. As Ellsworth says, “Transitional space opens up the space and time between an experience and our habitual response to it. It gives us time and space to come up with some other way of being in relation at that moment” (2005, p. 64). Ann describes the necessity of moving beyond staff members’ routines and habits in order to meet community members where they are, and in doing so, it opens different ways to relate, learn, and create together. Qualities of responsiveness that support ongoing relationships Relationships are supported across time and space through the same kinds of qualities of responsiveness that create educational conditions, which I address in Chapter 4. Some specific qualities research participants discussed that nurture ongoing relationships are trust, collaboration, and communication. These are certainly not the only qualities that support relationships, but participants specifically identified these as occurring over time and in ways that make mutual transformation possible.Ann explained that relationships, for her, are what make possible the partnerships that form the foundation of the Kohler Arts Center’s community-based programming. When I asked directly, “How does that trust get built?” Ann replied, “To me, that trust is built through relationships.” She continued:A: Going back to that trust factor.E: Mm-hmm.A: I feel it’s relationships and connections. E: Okay.196A: . . . You know, the stories that were there were huge. For me, to build that trust, it takes time. And that’s the thing, you have to realize it takes time and it takes those relationships, it takes those connections, learning each other’s stories. That builds a trust. (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Just as building capacity requires making time, building trust requires that staff members make time to connect, support, listen, and share in order to build relationships. In that way, trust is built to extend relationships across space and time. Collaboration, as I discussed earlier, opens up the boundaries between self and other in ways that support mutual transformation (Ellsworth, 2005). Collaborative relationships are dependent on understanding that as organizations transform and change, the relationships between those organizations will change. Amy explained: A: As the organizations morph and change, you know, our relationship with them morphs and changes.E: Mm-hmm.A: And it’s also as we change. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Relationships change over time, just as the individuals and organizations that hold those relationships change. As that transformation happens, though, the ongoing folding of the pasts of those relationships onto the present continues to open up possible future collaborations that can take place in different ways, because participants understand that change is part of ongoing relationships.Amy also explained that there is a responsibility inherent in collaborations where staff must consider that their ongoing relationships are what make specific programs possible, such as artist residencies, performances, or public art projects. The individual artists or artist collectives that come in for shorter programs rely on the relationships that organizations hold, so staff members should be attentive to letting artists know that staff are responsible for facilitating each artist’s temporary connections through those staff members’ ongoing work to support and develop relationships (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015; see also, Bishop, 2012, p. 288). Amy expressed concern that not enough emphasis is placed on valuing those ongoing 197relationships or valuing the staff at arts organizations who do the work to develop and hold those relationships:A: I think that’s why artists get so excited to work with us, that we have that safe space. We provide, we have the relationship with people, we have laid out the expectations that, and  provided a space for that to happen,E: Mm-hmm.A: and to happen on a one-off, E: Yeah.A: you know, so artists can come for a short amount of time and leave, and have that experience, or students could come for a short amount of time and leave. And [a partnering organization] would do that for us, they would provide that safe space for us to engage because they hold those relationships. But, I don’t think everybody structures it like that. They’re willing to pop in and pop out without thatE: Right.A: intermediary space that is providing the framework that those conversations can happen on a one-off basis. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)As I mentioned earlier, staff members committed to responsive participatory practices make space and time for collaborations and relationships, on a short- or long-term basis. Valuing relationships and the work that goes into these relationships, especially as organizations shift and relationships transform over time, is part of what makes collaboration possible. Communication is also necessary for relationships to be supported across different spaces and for extended periods of time. This connects to how important it is to see daily practices as moving internally and externally to support mutual transformation. Amy described specific examples of how sharing internal goals and processes with partners is important to build an understanding of who the partnering organizations are, and to share with partners what the Kohler Arts Center is and what goals they have for collaborations (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015). Stacey also expressed the importance of communicating internal goals with an external network of partnering organizations to support ongoing relationships: 198S: I think that if we didn’t have these guiding documents, or common language about what we’re doing, we wouldn’t be able to collaborate like we are.E: Okay.S: So, if at any point in time there’s a collaboration that starts to go off track, or we start to do things that are not really connected to the goals we’ve articulated, this is our way of bringing it back in. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)Here Stacey explains that communicating goals through specifically crafted internal language helps explain what is motivating MAH staff, and also helps explain both the processes they are undertaking in programs as well as the reasons behind those processes. This kind of communication, and valuing this communication, makes it possible for long-term relationships to form, thus allowing for a process of mutual transformation to occur over time. Stacey’s explanation of how staff members at the MAH communicate their goals points to a final aspect of mutual transformation, which is how transformation is invited and sustained through organizational missions.5.3 Mission-Guided Changes Mutual transformation is possible at museums and arts centers in part because of the conditions created by their organizational mission statements, as well as through bringing those mission statements to life through programming. If an organization values change and transformation, then the conditions for transformation are supported within their missions. Ann, Amy, Stacey, and Emily all discussed how their mission statements, guiding questions, and strategic planning initiatives have helped create conditions for organizational transformation to occur. Mission statements then help create the “transitional space” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 64) in which potential learning is made possible. Though Ellsworth does not talk about mission statements as part of pedagogy, the ways she describes transitional space aligns with how participants discussed their organizational missions working for them. Ellsworth observes: the space that is the ground for this transition, the space in transitional space, refers to the environment that best invites this transition. It refers to the means and conditions, the pedagogies, that support the never-ending work and play of putting self in relation in 199ways that are not habitual but are creative and contemporaneous. (2005, p. 64, italics in original)Of course, Ellsworth continues later to describe how this is not only a transitional space but also a transitional time in which change and transformation can occur. Mission statements put an organizational “self” in relation to outer realities to make transformation possible in multiple ways. I discuss how research participants described strategic planning and evaluation and assessment as two parts of their organizational missions that make space and time for thinking outside of their habitual patterns, thus creating transitional space and time for mutual transformation to occur. 5.3.1 The role of strategic planning in mutual transformation  The clearest example of how research participants connect their strategic planning initiatives—which all participants described as resulting in changes to organizational mission statements—is the MAH’s “Theory of Change” document (Figure 5.2; Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2015a). Stacey described working with Ian David Moss of the firm Fractured Atlas to develop their “Theory of Change” from previous documents representing the MAH’s goals. She explained about engaging in this strategic planning to develop the Theory of Change: S: [Moss] was absolutely amazing, asking us questions, and really kind of prodding our assumptions, and then saying, “Are you sure that this outcome really connects with this outcome, or is that an assumption that you’ve made?” He just allowed us to take a step back, and asked us questions that challenged our assumptions, which was amazing, and super-helpful. But, you know, these goals, they’re great, and they help frame the work that we do, but the Theory of Change is so powerful because it really outlines that impact, and says, “Okay, you know, you’re doing all these kinds of activities, these are the things that your organizations does, what’s the specific pathway that people are going on to get to that impact? How do you really connect those dots?” And, for me that kind of outline of information was super-important. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)As Stacey described, it was important for MAH staff to make time and space through working with an outside consultant in order to think through their internal processes so they could have a 200greater impact in their community. The kinds of questions they asked internally allowed them a way to develop and change their guiding mission and core questions so they can continue to transform their community. This process shows how strategic planning is a tangible way in which organizations embrace mutual transformation as they put their qualities of responsiveness, discussed in Chapter 4, into action. Strategic planning allowed MAH staff to clarify processes, goals, and questions so they can continually refer to the “Theory of Change” document to inform their work, and then, if needed, to change that guiding document as their organization continues to change. 201Figure 5.2. MAH “Theory of Change” document, 2015. Courtesy of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.202One “snag” (Jackson & Mazzei, 2012, p. 30) in the “Theory of Change” that conflicts with the ways in which I have discussed mutual transformation thus far, and how Stacey and Emily described their organization transforming in response to their community, is that the arrows in the “Theory of Change” document only move in one direction. My perception of the MAH’s work, through research conversations and in reading about their work through books, blogs, articles, and their website, is that change moves in least in two directions: where the MAH seeks to make change in their community, and the MAH is being changed by their community at the same time. In fact, the movement of change might be more a movement of forward, backward, sideways, diagonally, and outside of the document completely. However, I would also argue that this is part of what happens in strategic planning—the moment ideas are coalesced into one document, the ideas have already started to move and shift in ways that the document, or representation of a process in the case of the “Theory of Change,” cannot express. That impossibility of pinning down mutual transformation in one representation is part of the ongoing process of change in responsive participatory practices. Ongoing, mission-based practices that support mutual transformationAfter making space and time for organizational change through strategic planning, the resulting mission statements, guiding questions, and guiding documents are engaged through daily practices. Participants discussed how this happens on a daily basis but also at times on a longer scale. On a daily basis, Stacey and Amy described how important it is for staff to believe in their mission in order to put it into practice. Stacey explained that staff at the MAH “have that same shared philosophy of making the museum a community-centered place, and really putting community engagement at the core of what we do” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). Guiding questions developed through strategic planning—such as one Amy identified, “How do the classes that are being proposed generate a creative exchange?” (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)—help keep the shared mission of an organization in front of individuals as they go through their daily practices. These questions create transitional space and time (Ellsworth, 2005) in which transformation can occur, including when programs are not meeting the goals and mission of the organization. 203Participants described processes of “letting go” of programs when staff determined that the programs were no longer a good fit with the organizational mission. This is a tangible form of mutual transformation that occurs over time and through ongoing conversations about how programming can best serve the community’s and the organization’s needs and goals. Letting go is discussed both in terms of programs being eliminated, and in terms of letting go of how a program worked prior to engaging in collaborations. Ann and Amy described how in their 2015 strategic planning meetings, the facilitator engaged them in thinking about what programs they would let go: AB: So what we did with strategic planning, I think a lot of things came to life.E: Mm-hmm.AB: And so, in that process of strategic planning too, we built in things, which I’m excited about, and that’s those functional things that Amy was talking about, about how to set up evaluation in a way, so that we can really think about when things are working,E: Yeah.AB: when things aren’t working, and allow ourselves to say, “That’s not working,AH: Yeah.AB: and that’s okay that that’s not working.”E: Right, right.AB: And I mean, that’s a hard mindset.AH: Yeah. And [the strategic planning facilitator], probably every, we did what, seven planning sessions?AB: Yeah. Oh, some of them got long.AH: And we’d have a bunch of homework to do between, and [the strategic planning facilitator] would constantly say, “Okay, this is all great, so what, what are you not going to do?” (conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016)204As Ann and Amy explained, it is not necessarily easy to let go of programs, especially if they are familiar and part of the cycle of programming that staff and community have come to expect, or if they fit a model of a museum that audiences think they should expect or that staff or board members think they should emulate. But as they both observed, when the programs no longer meet the mission and the guiding goals of the organization, it becomes necessary to transform programming in order to truly transform an organization (conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016). Likewise, letting go of how a program has been done before—though not completely eliminating the program—can be just as difficult. Ann and Amy described how in entering a partnership with the Sheboygan School District to offer a joint 4K program, the Kohler Arts Center had to accept changes in assessment of the students’ work, as well as other policy changes to align with district and state educational policies and expectations (conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016). Similarly, Stacey and Emily described how their school tours program was transformed from a fairly traditional experience in which students were led by docents on a gallery tour about art or history and then did an activity that was, as Stacey said, “very structured and step-by-step oriented” (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). To transform their school tours, they looked to their guiding “Theory of Change.” Stacey explained: S: So we completely scrapped that [traditional tour program], and this is a good example of how we used our Theory of Change as a way to guide our decisions and our planning and design around the new school tour. And so, we were adamant about this tour, this school tour building bridges across difference, and making sure the students felt empowered when they were here, and making the bonds with their classmates stronger.E: Okay.S: And that helped us re-design the tour that’s now super-engaging, that is based on curiosity, and letting the students explore on their own, and really discover on their own, and then at the end, really contribute in a creative way that is leading towards a positive community impact.E: Uh-huh, uh-huh.205S: So they learn about history, and they learn about art. But at the same time, they’re developing bonds with each other, and strategies for how to work together, how to collaborate, how to ask good questions, and then at the end, they’re really contributing their own ideas, and their own dreams around how to use history and art as a way to make our community stronger. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)Transforming this program to meet the new guiding vision required letting go of what the program once was and of some of the relationships that had been formed through that previous program: S: So we went through a really hard, tough process with our current docents to talk with them about where we’re headed, and to walk them along this process, to use the skills that they had to inform the decisions that we’re making, but, at the end of the day we had half of our docent corps drop out, andE: Yeah.S: that was okay. You know, we had to accept that, andE: Yeah.S: we have a new, whole docent corps that’s starting now. E: Mm-hmm.S: But that’s been a big shift. I think a big reason why a lot of museums have trouble making that shift is there’s so much history embedded in “This is the way we teach, and this is the way we do tours,” thatE: Yeah, yeah.S: it’s really hard to break that mold. But it took us years to do that. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015)Letting go of programs, or of control over programs, and sometimes of relationships formed through programs, allows organizations to meet changing goals and purposes—though as Stacey, Amy and Ann reflected, that change can be difficult and comes only by accepting what and whom are being left behind. Stacey also described that it is hard to let go of expectations of what 206a program, such as a school tour, should look like or should include (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 13, 2015). In order to change to meet organizational needs, research participants commented on the need to consider organizational capacity and the mutual needs that are met through programming alongside changing mission statements. Because of what might be lost, it is often important to make those changes slowly, with “infinite . . . modal oscillations” (Agamben, 1990/1993), rather than through sweeping changes, just as Ann, Amy, and Stacey described the changes above as taking place over long periods of time. Occasionally, though, changes must take place more rapidly. Nina Simon (2011, 2018) describes that when she accepted the position as executive director of the MAH, she began a process of transformation that was, by necessity, rapid. The MAH was “on the financial brink” (Simon, quoted in Silver, 2018), and for it to continue, she needed to make fast changes by laying off staff and drastically reducing salaries (including her own). The transformations were not just financial. Simon explains her thinking at the time: “if we’re going to make this museum successful, if we’re going to make it meaningful in the community, we’ve got to increase the number of people we’re reaching and we have to diversify who they are” (Simon, quoted in Silver, 2018). Emily described this change as the “MAH makeover”—a transformation that took place both rapidly through immediate changes, and over a long, and ongoing, period of time in which relationships and partnerships have been formed (conversation with Emily Hope Dobkin, January 25, 2016). Guiding qualities such as diversity and relevancy, which Simon mentions and which are discussed in sections and, indicate the commitment to making the MAH meaningful to their community as part of their transformation.The need for rapid change due to financial difficulties, changes in leadership, or other broader organizational changes presents a contradiction, or another “snag,” in thinking about mutual transformation as the slow “modal oscillations” that Agamben describes.92 Though what Simon frankly describes were rapid and necessary changes, she also discusses a long-term process of engaging with community:I always say we did not transform our museum by building a fancy building or by bringing in van Gogh. . . . [W]e changed our museum by reorienting on our community 92 This point was raised for me through a question posed by an audience member at a panel during the March 2015 NAEA annual convention. 207and really saying we exist to be of, by and for you, and to help build a stronger community. (Simon, quoted in Silver, 2018)Though most changes in a responsive participatory museum practice take place over time and through reflection and conversation, sometimes faster changes are necessary and may make possible the long-term engagement that Simon, along with other staff, practice at the MAH. Finally, in thinking about the mission as a transitional space and time that makes mutual transformation possible (Ellsworth, 2005), mission statements should allow an organization to present potentially conflicting programs or ideas about or within their organization by maintaining a focus on that goal. In this way, mission statements can hold conflict in “ways that are not habitual but are creative and contemporaneous” (Ellsworth, 2005, p. 64). Amy described this process as she explained that while the Kohler Arts Center’s Connecting Communities program has a program goal of bringing together community, their exhibitions department does not hold that same goal. Given the differing departmental goals, they might engage participatory processes in different, and potentially conflicting ways, all while keeping an eye on working towards and within the same organizational mission: A: I would say that [curator at the Kohler Arts Center] is much more interested in participatory practice across the board, and [they have been] much more interested in socially engaged artists. And that’s, there have been curators in the past at the Arts Center that have had an interest, but not to the [same] extent. E: Mm-hmm.A: So, [this curator’s] also bringing in artists that, they may even do a component in the community, but because it’s through Exhibitions and not through Connecting Communities, [they don’t] necessarily have to have that, like, [theirs] could be very straightforward,E: Hmm. A: um, contrary to bringing the community together.E: Hmm.208A: Because it’s, you know, you have the mission of the organization, but then you have the mission of the individual programs, and Connecting Communities is about uniting the community. Exhibitions does not have that same goal. [pause] So, [they] could bring in an artist. I mean, [they have] to think through it and think about the fit for the exhibition, the exhibition concept, for the mission of the organization, which is to generate a creative exchange between artists and the public, but if it feels that it meets all of those, [they] could theoretically bring in somebody who’s very much a shock-and-awe type artist. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015) As Amy described, the mission at the Kohler Arts Center allows for and makes possible programs that might have conflicting ways of engaging community members. But by keeping a focus on the central mission-based question, “Does this generate a creative exchange between artists and the public?” the organization can hold this conflict. Mutual transformation does not then mean that every program and every staff member must have the same beliefs and function in the same way; instead, Amy explained how transformation that leads to new questions makes it possible to have different ways of working with community at the same time and within the same organization (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015).5.3.2 Evaluation and assessmentThe ways in which Ann, Amy, Stacey, and Emily described how evaluation and assessment function at the MAH and the Kohler Arts Center depicted an ongoing practice that creates the conditions for mutual transformation and organizational change. Evaluation and assessment were discussed as ways in which MAH and Kohler Arts Center staff could continually check in with each other to see how programs and their broader work meet the organizational mission. Evaluation is another way in which staff can collaborate across departmental divides to continually transform an organization through asking key questions.Evaluation and assessment create conditions for mutual transformation primarily by making time, space, and processes to reflect and discuss programs. Sometimes these processes are formalized, and sometimes they are informal, but in the responsive practices described at the MAH and Kohler Arts Center, making time for evaluation was important to allow space and time for change to occur in these organizations. For instance, in describing how staff use the 209Engagement Goals at the MAH (Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, 2014), Stacey explained how they developed an assessment process for those goals: S: I believe this happened in 2014, and we clearly outline high, medium, and low levels of all of these [Engagement Goals], but we’ve been using this document kind of as a guiding point for designing program themes, and figuring out who are our collaborators in that program, what kinds of activities are we doing, are we doing make-and-take activities, are we doing collaborative projects and programs. So, it kind of served as a way to guide us in the work that we’re doing. But, what we realized is that for some people on staff it was difficult to really assess what level they were at with those, with those goals. E: Sure.S: So, what we’ve ended up doing over the past year is developing a way for us to internally evaluate these goals and the work that we do. We’ve created some key measurables that are associated with each of these goals, so that after each program, or after each event, or exhibition, the staff member is then rating the level of each of these goals, so that by the end of the year we’ll be able to see a spectrum of kind of where we’re at organizationally, what areas need to improve, or what programs need to be cut entirely. E: Okay.S: This is, kind of has been a long process, but first is getting it on paperE: Sure.S: then getting everybody on the same page,E: Yep.S: and then figuring out how to actually measure it so that it is useful as a planning process. (conversation with Stacey Garcia, November 3, 2015)This kind of ongoing evaluation and assessment allows time, space, and processes to think about whether a program is a good fit with the mission or needs to be changed to match the mission—or whether the mission needs to change to fit how programs are transforming the organization. 210The ongoing conversations for which assessment makes space and time allow transformations to be made slowly, thoughtfully, and in line with the guiding goals of a museum or arts center, as well as with the needs of the community in mind. As I mentioned, these processes can be a formal part of an organization, as Stacey described, or can take place informally in response to a particularly meaningful moment in a program. In the extended conversation excerpt with Ann at the start of Chapter 4, she described the meaningful moment of a charged conversation with audience members about race and how the staff processed that experience through reflective conversation. Ann explained that this reflection that helped staff assess the performance and audience conversation also allowed them a greater understanding of what was made possible through those audience conversations: A: And that’s where I feel like we are facilitators, and, our role in the arts is to offer those opportunities for conversation, because, here’s the thing, overall, you know, [staff] from Performing Arts, we talked at length after what had transpired, and we talked about, you know, if not here [pause], where? E: Mm-hmm.A: Where does this conversation happen if it couldn’t have happened here? (conversation with Ann Brusky, September 2, 2015)Though this reflective conversation was informal, it still allowed space and time for staff to reflect on how and why Kohler Arts Center staff approach inviting dialogue between audience and performers following performances.Time and space for evaluation can also be made possible through seemingly unlikely collaborations. Amy talked about how her recent transition (in 2015) to include overseeing the marketing department, in addition to her previous role of overseeing programming departments, allowed her to think differently about the kinds of questions that were possible, through focusing on marketing and public relations:A: Putting on a marketing perspective, it makes it easier to actually start defining what some of the goals are,E: Mm-hmm.211A: and pushing that conversation, where it’s harder when you’re just in the programming vein. E: Huh.A: And it’s actually, it also highlights the need to have marketing colleagues that are helping to identify, especially some of the quantitative. Because as far as questions go, there’s been a lot of specific questions that I can ask through the marketing side just as I’ve started evaluating what is and is not going well over there.E: Mm-hmm.A: And some of those same questions start to fold over into programming side.. . . And this is where marketing, because programmers are so in the thick of it, that they are not gonna be able to see that. [pause] And marketers needed to ask those questions. E: Mm-hmm.A: They needed to be able to say, like, “Okay, what are we trying to do? What are we trying to do with programming? E: Mm-hmm.A: Is the biggest need to just try to explain the project? Do you have general awareness of it? Is the biggest need to drive people to do something? Is there an actual, exchange that you want to happen, and if so, what is that?” (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Just as asking questions creates the conditions for potential learning with those outside of the museum, asking questions internally allows the possibility for transformation. Amy explained that through collaborations with other staff who are looking at a program differently, new kinds of questions and evaluations of programs are able to occur. Space and time are needed for asking questions that, as Amy said, are sometimes not possible for staff who are working through the logistics of making a program happen or connecting with dozens of participants. Time and space for the transformation of programs are made through evaluation and assessment that takes into account community feedback. Transformation can happen through changing programs in relation to community feedback, and in relation to internal goals and organizational capacity. 212Responsive participatory art museum practices, as described by research participants and as viewed through relevant scholarship, are made possible by creating educational conditions that prioritize mutual transformation of community members and arts organizations. In the concluding chapter, I consider why this research matters and how it might be extended in future studies. 213Chapter 6: Concluding ThoughtsIn this dissertation, I have discussed what responsive participatory art museum practices are and can be, in relation to practices at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History (as shared by Stacey Garcia and Emily Hope Dobkin) and at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center (as shared by Amy Horst and Ann Brusky). I have also considered responsive participatory practices alongside the writings of museum and arts practitioners working with community-based, participatory practices, and the theories of education, museum, and arts scholars, with emphasis on Elizabeth Ellsworth’s 2005 Places of Learning. These sources provide ways of thinking about what responsive participatory art museum practices are and could be, and the ways that these practices allow for thinking differently about education, learning, and pedagogy. In this concluding chapter, I first summarize what responsive participatory art museum practices are,93 including reviewing key points from the study. I then address how this study contributes to existing research and why this study matters.94 Finally, I consider how this research could be extended in the future.6.1 What are Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices?Responsive participatory art museum practices provide a way for museums and arts centers to respond to needs in their communities, thus offering a means for these arts organizations to serve their communities. The needs may vary, such as providing space and time for consideration of personal and societal issues, bringing people together across their differences, inspiring creativity, providing space and time to focus on a performance or work of art, or teaching new skills to community members. Community needs are determined in a variety of ways—through ongoing conversations with individuals and organizations in the community, formal and informal meetings between museum staff and partnering organizations, and direct 93 Though I summarize what responsive participatory art museum practices are and key points about these practices from the study without references, my summary is informed by the research data and the scholarship upon which I draw in this study.94 Response data from Lisa Loutzenheiser, who reminded me to ask the important questions, “So what? Why does this research matter?”214methods of eliciting suggestions from individual community members. Organizations make connections between community needs and what they can offer through their organizational mission, collections, programs, staff, and facilities; the overlap of these needs and organizational capacity offers a space and time in which community needs are partially met through museums and arts centers. To serve community needs, responsive participatory practices prioritize collaboration through community partnerships and ongoing relationships. Art museums and art centers calibrate their organizational missions and needs to community needs through collaborative practices. Matching the changing needs of organizations, individuals, and communities means that the relationships that form the core of responsive participatory practices ebb and flow as the overlap of needs and capacity changes over time. Despite ongoing changes in organizations, long-term relationships are valued, and ways of supporting those relationships are prioritized, though with the understanding that the organizations and individuals within those relationships change over time. Collaboration provides space and time in which topics can be considered in new ways and projects can be expanded through sharing resources and ideas. Collaboration opens up different ways of thinking, learning, questioning, and being, thus allowing for potential change to occur for all of those who take part in the collaboration.Responsive participatory practices allow space and time for internal practices to move to external practices and vice versa, in a process of mutual transformation. Responsive practices emphasize collaborative and relational processes within an organization and with community members and partners. Conditions that support relational and collaborative processes are created slowly, carefully, and thoughtfully by staff members. The mirroring of external and internal relational and collaborative processes indicates an expectation that change will occur for audiences, participants, or community members, as well as staff and board members within a museum or arts center. Supporting the conditions for mutual transformation means that the individuals involved at all levels of an organization (from staff to board members to project participants) have the potential to change through being part of these responsive practices; likewise, the organization has the potential to change because of these responsive practices. Though the conditions for mutual transformation in responsive participatory practices are 215supported, there is no specific notion of what that change will look like; the changes that occur remain uncertain and unknown. Education in responsive participatory art museum practices is understood as creating conditions for potential learning to occur. The skills, experience, artworks, and contexts drawn upon to create these conditions form the pedagogy of responsive practices, and all those involved in responsive participatory organizations engage this pedagogy, not just those designated as educators. Learning is always considered as potential, meaning that learning may take place or may not, depending on the learner and the context or educational conditions of the potential learning experience. The pedagogy of creating educational conditions takes place on an organization-wide basis through mission-based processes that are engaged through ongoing and daily actions. The educational conditions created for potential learning in responsive participatory practices focus on qualities of practice that are open-ended and chosen for the context of particular communities and the mission and capacity of an organization. In this way, educational conditions are responsive to communities, organizations, and the individuals within these communities and organizations. Responsive qualities—such as responsibility, diversity, and relevancy—that arise from the mission are infused in daily practices, and these qualities direct the way daily actions and tasks take place. Educational conditions for potential learning also prompt practitioners to continually ask questions, especially to continue asking “Why?” Through asking questions, staff can return to the organization’s guiding qualities and mission for direction, but asking questions also allows staff to think about how to change the mission and those guiding qualities over time in order to respond to their community and to their organizational changes. Again, creating conditions for potential learning means that learning is only made possible and is never predetermined, though potential forms of learning may be imagined. There is not a certain, set outcome for asking particular questions or for creating the conditions for learning through programs. In responsive participatory art museum practices, the conditions for potential learning are open-ended and provide space and time for thinking, sometimes in different ways but always without a final answer and without closure. 2166.2 What Does this Study Offer, and Why Do Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices Matter?Through this dissertation, I present a detailed description of the ongoing processes and actions that participants enact, thus providing an example of practice that can inform the work of practitioners in museums, arts centers, and other cultural organizations. This dissertation also provides a way of differentiating one particular kind of community-based participatory museum practice that can be included under the umbrella term of “participation” in museums. This differentiation is important because there are subtleties and particularities of responsive participatory practices that do not correspond to other kinds of practices included under the term “participation.” Descriptions of practices at two research sites, as shared by the four research participants, allow readers to understand the complexities, challenges, and possibilities that come with undertaking a responsive participatory art museum practice. Further, this study considers in what ways education is understood in the responsive participatory art museum practices enacted by participants and discussed in relevant scholarship. Examining how educational conditions for potential learning are created opens up another way of thinking about museum education and provides some guiding concepts for museum practitioners and researchers. This study also offers time and space for participants to articulate their working processes, which are often concealed under a multitude of daily tasks. As I explained to participants when introducing this research project to them, I am concerned that though the content of projects, especially exhibitions, is shared through publications, recordings, websites, and blogs, the internal staff processes that make possible these final products often go unnoticed and unarticulated. By taking a close look at the practices and processes at the two sites and thinking with theorists alongside conversations with research participants, this research offers a way of responding when museum and arts practitioners say, “Yes, I want to work more closely with our community, but how do I do that?” While I hope to offer guiding principles, the nature of responsive participatory practices is also one without closure (Ellsworth, 2005), where there is no certain final outcome, and no single, set way of enacting these practices (Gosselin, 2013). My intention is that the research shared in the previous chapters will provide guidance for practitioners as they shape their practices around the specific contexts and communities in which they work. 217If this is what my study offers, why then do the responsive practices I describe matter? Responsive participatory museum practices matter for many reasons: to meet community needs, such as inviting dialogue through art objects or art-making; to create space and time to come together across individual differences; to develop new ways to think about the arts and how the arts fit into people’s lives; to invite artists and community members to come together to create; and to allow space and time to talk about and think about challenging topics in different ways. Responsive participatory practices serve purposes and invite ways of interacting that other kinds of museum practices might not. I want to be clear that this kind of responsive participatory practice requires organizational commitment, capacity for engaging deeply with communities, a mission that fits with this kind of practice, and a desire and need from the organization and community to take on responsive practices. A responsive participatory practice will not work for all museums or arts organizations; however, for those organizations searching for new ways of working with their communities, the research shared in this study may provide useful direction. Likewise, if practitioners are being questioned as to why engaging community members matters, I describe below the reasons that these practices matter. These reasons include: providing spaces for challenging dialogue; providing other models for museums and arts organizations (especially community-based, regional, or city museums); and clarifying one form of participatory practice among many kinds of participation.6.2.1 The need for spaces of dialogue in difficult times As Amy and I spoke, I shared my concern about how museums could be a part of critical topics in current times; in particular, we discussed how museums could be a part of the Black Lives Matter movement. We discussed how museums had existed as repositories and places of safe-keeping for objects, but how often, the willingness to invite conversation and dialogue about difficult topics was less of a concern in a more traditional museum practice that focuses on “serving the object well or not serving the object well” (Phelan & Rogoff, 2001, p. 39).218As indicated in the American Association of Museums (AAM)95 publication Mastering Civic Engagement (2002), the AAM seeks ways to push museums to consider how “the place of museums in their communities could be transformed, making them ever more responsive, integral, and valuable to their communities” (p. xii). Robert Archibald (2002) suggests in this publication that museums “will relinquish our traditional authoritarian roles in favor of new responsibilities as both resources and facilitators of dialogue about those things that matter most to people” (p. 3). What is suggested here is that museums could fundamentally change how they position themselves within their communities, reconsider the role they serve in society, and address how they will remain relevant in contemporary times (see also Simon, 2016). What the authors included in the AAM (2002) publication advocate is that as people seek out spaces to engage in critical dialogue, museums can be locations in which conversations about challenging contemporary topics can take place. In the following excerpt, Amy and I talked about this need for a dialogical space about difficult topics in relation to traditional museum models:A: And that’s a space that the Arts Center, it’s part of the Arts Center’s mission to be there. E: Mm-hmm.A: But, there’s a lot of museums where it’s not a part, they really truly see themselves as a repository,E: Yeah.A: like a safe-keeping. It’s a vault for future generations, so that it never goes away.E: Mm-hmm.A: It’s not for exchange. . . .A: And that’s, I mean, it’s coming from a participatory standpoint95 Now the American Alliance of Museums: see more at https://www.aam-us.org/, accessed August 29, 2018.219E: Yeah, I know, I know.A: where you see how much that the participatory viewpoint can really make an organization relevant, and valid, and important in real lives today. Right now.E: Right.A: You know. And when you experience that and see it and that is what draws you, it’s hard, E: I knowA: it’s hard to not see that for other organizations.E: Yeah.A: I mean, like, “You could be doing so much more right now.”. . .A: But when you look at our societal structure, and you’re like, what are the places that this need could be met, and you identify the museum as a place that that need, that real tangible societal needE: mm-hmmA: could be met and it isn’t, it seems wrong in some way. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)Though Amy acknowledged that not all museums have a mission that guides them to serve communities through dialogical interactions, she and I agreed that somehow it seems a missed opportunity to not leverage the public cultural spaces museums afford in order to create dialogue through objects, exhibitions, and programs in museums.6.2.2 The need for different examples of museum practices To create dialogical spaces that address challenging contemporary issues, museums need different examples of practice. What I propose, along with other museum leaders and 220organizations (American Association of Museums, 2002; Golding & Modest, 2013; Gosselin, 2013, 2014; Karp, Kreamer, & Lavine, 1992; McLean & Pollock, 2010; Meszaros, 2006, 2007, 2008; Rogoff, 2008, 2010a; Simon, 2010), is that to function differently within communities, museums need to be different through working with processes that prioritize relationships with communities. The kind of participatory museum practices that Nina Simon (2010, http://museumtwo.blogspot.com/) advocates particularly make sense for smaller city, regional, and community-based museums and arts and cultural organizations that do not have the capacity for encyclopedic collections or large-scale building projects, but might have a greater capacity to work with their communities because of their smaller size, as Stacey observed. Of course, this does not mean these types of responsive practices are limited to smaller museums. What Simon (2010) offers in The Participatory Museum are principles and examples of how this kind of museum practice can be created. What I offer in inquiring into the responsive participatory practices of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History and the John Michael Kohler Arts Center is a refinement of these broader participatory practices to think specifically about how these two organizations work on a daily basis to serve the needs of their communities, and specifically to create space and time for conversations around contemporary topics and issues that matter to their communities. Similarly, for educational practices in museums to change, there need to be different examples of educational practices. By thinking through what education, learning, and pedagogy mean in relation to responsive participatory practices, this research offers one way of thinking about education as creating conditions for potential learning, forming collaborations and partnerships, nurturing ongoing relationships, developing pedagogy that engages particular qualities, and inviting learning without closure or a final outcome or set answer. Thinking outside the kinds of structured formats that school learning often provides can be a challenge, as Stacey, Emily, Ann, and Amy discussed at various times in our conversations. Therefore, the kinds of educational conditions created in responsive participatory practices provide another way of thinking about how education can be made possible in museums.2216.2.3 Clarifying what responsive participatory practices mean among many kinds of participationIn offering a refinement of the term “participatory practices,” I am addressing a concern indicated by various authors (Beech, 2010; Graham, 2010; Kalin, 2016; Kundu & Kalin, 2015; Mathur, 2005; O’Neill & Wilson, 2010) for conducting “business-as-usual . . . [that is] dressed up as emancipatory, or open-ended, practice” (O’Neill & Wilson, 2010, p. 20). If “participation” can be used to mean anything from clicking on the photos a person likes in an online exhibition, to facilitating a year-long artist residency with multiple community members around issues of memory loss, to offering new ways to buy products at a gift shop, then it is hard to understand just what “participation” means in museums. Further, it may be a term that in its overuse is starting to lose meaning. This range of what “participation” and “participatory” can mean and has been used to mean suggests that there is a need for clarifying what is meant by participatory practices. One of the reasons responsive participatory museum practices are important is that they clarify one particular kind of participatory practice in which museums serve communities through ongoing reciprocal relationships that are made possible through daily practices guided by their missions and valued organizational qualities. The examples of responsive participatory art museum practices included in this study are one way of addressing requests from museum organizations and professionals (American Association of Museums, 2002; Simon, 2010) for community-focused practices that serve a diverse and broad public. The responsive participatory practices that the MAH and Kohler Arts Center employ are not easy. While the participants in this research were positive and excited about the work they do, they also expressed that it is challenging to work in such in-depth ways within their communities, and to maintain openness while also doing the daily work needed to make programs happen. Ann and Amy explained this pace and challenge by saying, playfully and seriously:A: Sometimes the bus moves around and changes. Or we upgrade the bus or whatever. [laughs]E: Right.AB: So that’s the thing to look at right now.222AH: And trying to do that while the bus is still traveling,AB: Oh my gosh, at 80 miles per hour. (conversation with Ann Brusky and Amy Horst, February 18, 2016)As Amy also expressed, many people distill participatory practices into a simple feel-good interaction, which she suggested is a serious oversimplification of the challenges of community-based work. As she pointed out: A: It’s not about feeling good. . . . It’s about thinking and having a shift in perspective, and understanding your community in a different way, and just having a chance to, and a platform to come together in a different way. (conversation with Amy Horst, September 3, 2015)If museums and arts centers—as well as arts and cultural organizations and other community-based organizations—are going to interact differently with their communities, they need different examples of practice that clarify how participation translates into the daily practices that allow organizations to be responsive to their communities. Again, I am not proposing this form of responsive participatory practice to suggest that all museums and arts organizations should engage these types of processes; that is not possible. I am simply clarifying the types of practices that I think deserve further consideration when museum and arts organization staff members want to work in relation with their communities. 6.3 Extending the ResearchThis research study could be expanded in multiple ways. First, given that I describe responsive participatory practices in relation to two organizations in this study, it is reasonable to question how my understanding about this concept would change if I included more research sites. As I mentioned in Chapter 2, the sites excluded from this study shaped the dissertation findings as much as the sites I did include. Therefore, this study could be expanded to include a number of other museums that have been noted as exemplars in community-based practices. Second, the ways that people engage with the educational conditions created at museums could be studied further. For instance, following a project at one museum site through its life cycle could provide a more detailed and nuanced understanding about what education, learning, and 223pedagogy mean as responsive participatory practices are engaged. These practices could be studied in the short term, as the project happens and immediately following the project. They could also be studied to try to understand the long-term educational impact of responsive participatory museum projects. Given existing scholarship on the long-term importance of museum education (Anderson, Storksdieck, & Spock, 2007; Falk, 2009), it could prove useful to inquire into long-term learning in relation to a particular responsive participatory museum project. Third, connections between digital participation and responsive participatory practices could be explored in extended research. Considering how digital formats allow for shared authority, as has been asserted in existing scholarship (Adair, Filene, & Koloski, 2011), in relation to responsive participatory practices, as well as how participants become part of creating content in these practices, could provide useful insights into the overlap between virtual participation and on-site museum participation. Fourth, further understanding of the reasons that bring people, particularly staff members, to this kind of work, and the kinds of training they receive to implement these practices, could be examined. An understanding of how people come to this work and are trained for it could be particularly fruitful if considered through feminist theories, given that many women are leaders in working with responsive participatory practices, as is evident in this study. Fifth, this study could be expanded by exploring further the relationship between curriculum and responsive participatory practices. 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Reston, VA: National Art Education Association.237AppendicesAppendix A  Toward Responsive Participatory Art Museum Practices: Interview protocol and sample interview questionsPrepared: August 14, 2015Interview Protocol1. Prior to interview:a. Set up meeting time with interviewee that accommodates their schedule. Be clear on their needs in regards to timing of interview, and mobility and accessibility issues, especially in relation to walking interviews.b. Review writing/communication that relate to the interviewee’s work and institution.c. Prepare specific interview questions in regards to writings, communication, and prior interactions with interviewee.d. Prepare consent forms, test recording equipment, and prepare snacks and water for interview.i. Checklist for interview:1. Digital recorder2. Extra AAA battery3. Ipad as recording back-up4. Digital camera for photos5. Interview questions on ipad or printed copy6. 2 Printed copies of consent forms: one to review and sign, one for interviewee to keep7. Water and snacks2. During interview:a. Thank interviewee for their time. Review research project purpose, my background and relationship to the research, and the interviewee’s role in the research. Confirm time limitations with interviewee.b. If not already completed, explain consent forms and have interviewee to sign them.c. Travel to site for walking interview location.d. Make sure interviewee is comfortable. Offer snacks and water as needed.e. Follow interview questions in informal format. Be sure to make note of questions that were asked but not on interview protocol.f. Be attentive to time limits of interview and be sure to close interview at the agreed upon time. g. Close by giving explaining the next steps. 238i. Discuss possible documents that would be helpful for me in relation to our conversation & their organizational processes.ii. Let interviewee know they may be contacted for follow-up interview and that they will have the opportunity to review the interview transcript and/or mappings if they choose to review those. iii. Explain the timing of the project and other steps in the research process.3. Post interview:a. Re-walk the interview route and create sketch map and field notes of walking conversation. b. Set up follow-up interview if needed, or engage in email communication with follow-up questions.c. Make note of additional questions asked during interview and whether they should be incorporated into other interviews.d. Send interview transcript and/ or mappings for review by interviewee.e. Send written information about next steps that were described in closing of interview process. f. Send thank you note and BREB-approved gift when email communication is complete.g. Share completed dissertation document via email.239Researcher Questions Interview QuestionsWhat experiences, training, and commitments guide museum professionals toward developing and utilizing participatory practices?Tell me about important moments in your career development. What forms of training (either in school or as part of jobs or other forms of training) did you undertake that you use in your work today?Tell me about an important mentor for you and how they influence your work.What kinds of community-based projects have you worked on in the past that influence the work you do today?Which educational experiences, events, programs, or exhibitions that you visited in the past have stuck with you? When you meet young professionals who are interested in doing the work you do, what do you tell them are key types of experiences or training they should undertake in order to learn more about your field?What and who influences the work that you do?Are there particular books, articles, blogs, websites, or other writings that you frequently return to when thinking about your projects?Are there any museums, arts centers, or particular practitioners that you keep an eye on for inspiration?How do you describe the work that you do to people that you meet? What terms do you use for your role at your institution? What terms do you use to describe participatory projects at your organization?Do you have metaphors that you have developed to describe the work you do?Can you describe a moment that has been important for you in your career and why it was important? 240What processes are being undertaken organizationally to facilitate participatory practices in art museums?Site questions: Tell me where we are located and how it was/ is part of a project from your museum. What events or programs took/ take place here? Who was/ is involved?Describe how a project idea is developed at your museum/ arts center.Tell me about a community-based, participatory project that you were involved with at your museum/ arts center. How was this project developed?Who were some of the initial people developing this project idea and what were their ideas and goals for the project? How did this project change over time, in relation to the program components, project partners, and project goals? Describe how a large-scale project is organized and implemented.What programmatic components of the project you mentioned were you responsible for, and how did you organize and facilitate those tasks? Tell me about some of the challenges that you faced during this project. Tell me about some of the most memorable and satisfying moments of this project. Who were some of the project partners that you worked with and what roles did they play?Describe how this project changed, or not, the internal processes for developing large-scale, organization-wide projects at your museum/ arts center.What have you found yourself doing as a result of your work with this project that you didn’t do before? What are some of the ways that processes in developing large-scale projects at your museum/ arts center have changed because of what was done during this project? What are some of the ways that processes haven’t 241changed?Tell me about experiences from that project linger with you. What had you hoped would happen with this project but didn’t?What are the network of factors that influence a participatory project?What role did objects play in the project you are describing? Are objects important to the work that you do?How do you explain the interactions between project participants and objects?How have the projects you’ve undertaken allowed for spaces to address critical contemporary issues (such as race relations, intergenerational care, environmental issues)? Do you think that participatory practices offer more ways in which to address these issues than more traditional museum exhibition and interpretation practices?What type of information would leaders in participatory museum practices like to have?What questions do you have for other museum professionals that engage in participatory projects?What areas do you feel are under-researched in participatory practices? What types of research and evaluation is requested by granting agencies? Does this align with the areas you feel are under-researched in participatory practices?Closing questions. Is there anything else you would like to share about your work? Do you have questions for me?