Abstract
In this article, we explore through a series of productions our analytic relationships with an interview with Iris—a fourth-grade student who participated in a post-intentional phenomenological study focusing on how social class–sensitive photo storying took shape in a high-poverty elementary school. Following Deleuze and Guattari’s configuration of assemblage as a constant process of making and unmaking, we have plugged into our assemblage (Jackson and Mazzei) some poetry and a dramatization, as well as some of the expected productions of academic writing such as theory, citations, and methodology. In this way, we reconceive the phenomenon as an assemblage that produces, rather than means.
Keywords
White sand beach, calm waters, beautiful seashells
Well-manicured trees, shrubs, sand sculpture entering building
Heated pool, hot tubs, food delivered to room until midnight
Just enjoy . . .
Amazing colleagues, really smart thoughtful scholars, writing reading thinking generating important ideas
Interesting sessions, luminary researchers who dedicated their professional lives to learning, pushing, imagining, re-imaging
Mid-career folks considering how they started, evaluating where they are, thinking about forks in roads for the second half of their careers
Scholars just starting out, getting their bearings, watching the veterans—taking cues, wondering, admiring, critiquing . . .
Just enjoy . . .
Better get to the data . . .
The visceral data for this session . . .
Do your job, Mark, as you are sitting on a wicker chair, listening to 3 men discuss how the trees look, garbage bag and some type of garbage pickup tool in hand—picking up trash off the ground, that a guest like me “dropped”
Do your job, Mark, as you just finished a run on a treadmill that operated perfectly because an equipment technician, like your brother recently was, fixed early in the morning or late at night
Do your job, Mark, as you walk toward the beach after your run, as you meet a worker in uniform who says good morning, sir . . . “sir”
Do your job, Mark, as you complete your cool down walk on the pristine beach that someone carefully combed, wiping your feet so the sidewalk cleaners’ work doesn’t get ruined by 7:00 a.m.
It’s time to do your job, Mark . . .
Other Side of Poverty Workshop, teacher tells story of classist thing she said
Walks up to her teacher one morning
“When I grow up I want to be a waitress just like my mom!”
Teacher
Immediately responds
“Oh dear you can do much better than that!”
Part of a study focusing on social class–sensitive photo storying
Asked to describe her photo story to me and another researcher
Asked to tell us more about the importance of the work being done in the photo
Attempting to tease out how all work and workers are important
To dignify this work
Her father is a firefighter . . .
I ask
What would happen if there weren’t . . .
Firefighters?
Is this man crazy?
What kind of question is that?
Flushed red-faced horror
Tense, poised for fight in the upper body
Furrowed brow
Lost lives
Burned buildings
Destroyed belongings
No study
No data
On the youth football team I coached the last two falls
Snapped the ball to my son
Mom pulling me aside to remind me
No to “tell” me
“Don’t baby him, Coach. I love you, coach, but don’t baby him. You’ve got to tell him what you want him to do!”
Doing my job . . .
Can’t shake the fully embodied nature of football pedagogy, the often raw emotion, the fullness and wholeness of mind, body, individual, team
Doing my job . . .
Analyzing, theorizing, making sense of data
About dignifying the embodied work of a waitress talking, moving, taking orders, fixing orders, on her feet, managing 100 things at once
About the firefighter lifting, climbing, protecting, serving, running, carrying, spraying, driving a truck fast through traffic
About the workers keeping these grounds, setting up the technology
Those who are in danger
From fire
From pain
From abuse
Those who are in fear
Of losing
Of winning
Of succeeding
Of failing
Of loving
Of hating
Of leaving
Of staying
When Mark was putting the finishing touches on a presentation at the 2015 Literacy Research Association conference, he found himself unable to write about Iris without situating his writing within the context for which the presentation was made. The context of the space and place could not be ignored, nor could Mark’s experience of tension and concern over his “important” job as a “scholar” who is tasked with somehow writing thoughtfully about Iris’s father’s important job. After many starts and stops, Mark settled on the poem above.
Production 1
We are sitting at a round table in Mark’s large rectangular office. The office walls are lined with shelves of books. A large desk-like structure contains many piles of papers in desperate need of filing or recycling—mostly the latter. Five or six large boxes, still not unpacked from Mark’s move, sit on the floor, tucked under shelves and desk.
Mark and Colleen had recently returned from a trip to gather empirical material 1 at MapleLeaf (pseudonym) elementary school, where the team was conducting a yearlong post-intentional phenomenological study entitled “Social Class-Sensitive Photo Storying.” The study focused on how photo-elicitation pedagogical methods could be used to cultivate a deeper awareness of how social class permeates one’s perceptions of living a life, carrying out work, and learning in classrooms.
Having recorded a series of interviews with fourth graders about their photo stories, the three of us settled into our chairs and started listening to the recordings. One interview in particular, with Iris (pseudonym), caught our collective attention. We decided to return to Iris repeatedly over the coming months—listening, discussing, re-listening, writing, presenting, discussing, theorizing, performing, re-listening, re-theorizing.
This article can be described as an exploration of our analytic relationship with our interview with Iris. We have plugged (Jackson & Mazzei, 2011) in some poetry and a dramatization, as well as some of the expected productions of academic writing such as theory, citations, and methodology. In this way, we reconceive the phenomenon as an assemblage that produces, rather than means. And although we are conceiving our article here as an assemblage—we are mindful that an assemblage is not a “thing,” it is the process of making and unmaking the thing. Which implies that it is never finished, and is open for innumerable makings and unmakings from readers.
Another poem.
Sitting in Mark’s office listening to Iris tell her photo story
Having complicated embodied responses as analysts
Sharing how we needed to find ways to body these empirical material and our analyses
Deciding to perform our analysis of an interaction with Iris, because of how her body moved during the interview, because of how our bodies moved during our multiple re-listenings of this moment
Feeling like we were onto something important
Knowing we had to do this now, we decided to act, do yoga, and play football with our empirical material—to see what might happen, to see what might be produced
As scholars from working-class backgrounds conducting social class–sensitive (Jones & Vagle, 2013) research, feeling that we needed to feel these empirical material and this analysis in order to try to know (Jensen, 2012) something
Wanting to figure out how to deeply theorize these empirical material using post-intentional phenomenology AND feeling pits in our stomachs as we read Saldaña’s (2014) rant about blue-collar qualitative research, knowing that we were (are) about to live out most of the things he thinks qualitative researchers should bring down a notch
Realizing we needed to perform the empirical material more after Colleen wrote and performed her dramatization at the 2015 International Congress on Qualitative Inquiry
Feeling like we could play with these characters, perform them differently and similarly as we originally experienced them
Production 2
Our Performative Engagement (Artistic Expression) Moment
In approaching our analysis with a sense of play, I (Colleen) am drawing on notions related to Richard Schechner’s (1988) work on performance theory and arts-based theater methodologies exemplified in the work of Johnny Saldaña (1999, 2008), Norman K. Denzin (2003), and others. First, I utilized these theories to dramatize the moment under analysis, meaning that I wrote a script of the empirical material being considered. Then I drew on these same theories, as well as on a discussion during a session at the 2015 International Congress on Qualitative Inquiry (ICQI) to illuminate elements of the analytic process from a post-intentional phenomenological approach.
While performance theory is in large part focused on theater and other formal performance genres, there is also significant thought given to performance as a part of everyday life. According to Erving Goffman (1959, p. 72), as quoted by Schechner (1988), “All the world is not, of course, a stage, but the crucial ways in which it isn’t aren’t easy to specify” (p. 257). Schechner goes on to note that this is because “everyday life is suffused with interactions that are rule-bound, conventions that are networks of reciprocal expectations and obligations” (p. 257). It is within this framework of everyday interaction as performance that allows for the playfulness of embodied analysis of empirical material in post-intentional phenomenology.
What would it look like if we approached Iris’s impassioned performance through the perspective of performance theory? One possibility is to treat this everyday performance as a more ritualized and formal performance for the purpose of playful analysis. The following is an example of what might be created utilizing such an approach:
(A YOUNG STUDENT, IRIS, stands in stillness in a school hallway, in a sea of young STUDENTS moving past her in both directions. IRIS is lit from below, the other STUDENTS moving in and out of her light.)
(Two adults, a MAN and a WOMAN, also in stillness, stand taking notes, a short distance away from IRIS. They are both in partial darkness, catching only some of the light being shed on IRIS.)
(On a wall in the background hang various pieces of different colored construction paper, all of a uniform size and rectangular shape, with a large photo affixed to the top portion and handwritten pages affixed in the lower portion. These are representations of a Random Act of Kindness (RAK) performed by each of the students in the class. The MAN and WOMAN are here to listen to IRIS tell her story of her RAK.)
(Other young children stream past and between IRIS, the MAN, and the WOMAN. Throughout the scene, the flow of other STUDENTS slows and eventually stops, until only IRIS, the MAN, and the WOMAN remain.)
(Lights up.)
If you help someone, they’re probably going to help you, too. That’s one thing I learned from doing a random act of kindness. My teacher says this is called a “chain reaction.”
Did you talk about the “chain reaction” as part of the assignment, or did you just notice that after doing your random act of kindness?
We talked about it as part of the assignment. And then I noticed it, when the post office people threw us a pizza party.
They threw you a pizza party? You mean, for your family? Or the whole class?
The whole class. That was the chain reaction.
(IRIS and MAN continue talking without making sound or noticing WOMAN as she speaks to the audience. Lights fade on IRIS and the MAN.)
Was the pizza party planned as part of the assignment? If a “random act of kindness” is part of an assignment, is it really random? What are they supposed to be learning from this assignment?
(On a screen behind where the scene is being played, the words “TRACK MY RAK,” “CHAIN REACTION,” and “ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE” appear amid images of rainbows, flowers, hearts, and vaguely religious symbols. These images fade into other images of formal curricula based on RAK. These images are meant to represent a discourse in popular culture related to “random acts of kindness” that has been codified in various ways.)
(Lights up on a TEACHER, working at a desk, STUDENTS gathered around her, some asking questions, some making noise, and some finding ways to go unseen. The TEACHER answers some questions, ignores others, and gets caught up with a small crisis among the noisy STUDENTS.)
(The WOMAN watches this action in silence for a moment.)
(Lights down on the TEACHER and STUDENTS.)
(The WOMAN turns to the screen, as phrases such as “social justice,” “class struggles,” and “racial inequality” replace the previous images.)
(The WOMAN turns as if to address audience, but is cut off by IRIS, who breaks away from silently talking with the MAN, in order to address the audience directly. As she speaks, the lights slowly fade, until IRIS stands alone in a pool of light.)
My dad is a firefighter. He saves lives and houses, and only one person has ever thanked him. One person had a puppy, a newborn puppy stuck in a fire, and he saved all their lives. And they only said thank you, but didn’t do anything else. If we didn’t have workers who were firefighters, it would be very bad. People could get stuck in buildings, children and adults, and some of them could die.
People could do more. They could throw them a party and help them. Help them pay for equipment to fight the fires.
(Lights up.)
That’s really important, isn’t it, that equipment. Do you know where the money comes from to pay for that? And to pay for the work that the firefighters do?
(Turning away abruptly, and then back.) Sorry. I thought I saw my brother. (A smile suddenly shakes her serious demeanor and she giggles, causing the MAN and WOMAN to giggle with her.) Ummm . . . no. (Laughs) I don’t know where the money comes from.
(All three laugh. Lights out.)
Multiplicities of Analysis
The dramatization of the empirical material from Iris’s embodied performance affords several multiplicities of analysis within the approach of post-intentional phenomenology. These multiplicities include the act of writing the dramatization itself as a form of analysis, analysis of the written text that is produced by the dramatization, performing the dramatization as an act of analysis, and the analysis of the performance of the dramatized material. In each of the multiplicities of analysis, something is both produced for analysis and the analysis itself is a further act of production. Entering into the phenomenon through any of these multiplicities in an attempt to become more fully aware of the making and unmaking of the phenomenon produces different intensities through which to experience the phenomenon. Each multiplicity is now further explored.
Dramatizing the Empirical Material
The first step in the process of dramatization as analysis was to write the script. For this, I (Colleen) listened to the recorded interview of the moment in question and allowed my imagination free reign to begin to visualize what it might look like if this interaction were enacted as a moment in a play. It is important to note two things in this process. One, in so doing, I was drawing on my extensive background as a theater artist, which, for arts-based researchers, is vital to the practice of this type of inquiry, namely, to draw on artistic traditions with which one has significant history and experience. Second, the production of the script does not assume evidence of presence or givenness of a particular experience or meaning (as is often assumed in early, Husserlian phenomenology). Rather, the production of the script allows for the study of how the experience was constituted, performed, and enacted, and the ways in which we as researchers responded to that performance. As noted by Denzin (2003), “There is no essential self. . . . There are only different selves, different performances, different ways of being . . .” (p. 86). In addition to listening to the recorded interview, I allowed myself to visualize the moment as it unfolded, relying on the memory of that moment in whatever form it had taken in my mind. I also consciously conjured some of the thoughts I remember having had in the encounter with Iris, as well as some I have had since the moment in question. All of these elements were in the mix as I visualized our interaction. In other words, I gave myself license to engage creatively and without inhibition with the memory of that moment. This last point about creativity and artistic license is akin to the post-intentional phenomenological approach of delimiting ourselves as researchers as we interact with the phenomenon and allowing the empirical material to be something that is both lived through and with the participants and the researcher(s) (Vagle, 2014).
The resulting artistic production of the dramatization was itself a text that is then open to analysis and interpretation, by myself as a researcher, as well as by the co-investigators of this project. In analyzing this text, certain elements in the moment began to stand out to me. I was able to see in the writing things that had been only on the edge of my consciousness, and of which I had only partial awareness prior to writing the dramatization. In addition, it illuminated particular aspects of post-intentional phenomenological practice in that I had tasked myself with illustrating a moment of a post-intentional phenomenological study.
Once I felt I had captured the elements of the moment as I saw them in my mind’s eye, I got up off my sofa and enacted the script in my living room, with only my dog as (highly uninterested) audience. This, too, illuminated specific details, such as my physical and intellectual orientation to the empirical material of the interview. The embodied act of my one-woman play of the dramatization forced me to inhabit the bodies of each person in the script, to see what they saw, say what they said, and feel what they felt (or at least, what I imagined they had felt). Noticing where and how the focus shifted in the script helped illuminate the ways in which the phenomena are making and unmaking themselves throughout the process of analysis.
Textual Analysis of Script
Approaching the text as a product of the analysis and as material to be further analyzed, I noticed a number of things. Among these observations were the following: I noticed that the dramatization was mainly focused on my own responses to the moment as a researcher; I noticed that certain things and people were being foregrounded and backgrounded in different moments of the script; I noticed the use of light to indicate focus; and I noticed that the screen was used to communicate things to the imagined audience that were not being overtly stated in the dialogue of the dramatization. Each of these observations produced a number of questions with which to approach the moment and provided insight into analysis that otherwise might not have been possible.
One example of opportunity for such insight offered by this playful, embodied analysis is in the tentative physical manifestations being produced in me, the researcher. Writing the “scene” of our interview allowed me to unearth some of the various tensions and concerns that I felt in my body with relation to some of the discordant elements of the project and its enactment that I found to be present in the experience of the interview. In the moment that we were conducting the interview, I was less aware of the ways in which the RAK discourse was (to my mind) interfering with the emphasis of social class sensitivity in the project; whereas in the dramatized scene of the interview, it became quite clear to me the multiple discourses that were clashing inside me as I listened to Iris’s retelling of the way in which the photo-storying project was enacted. This embodied analysis illuminated the foregrounding and backgrounding of various elements of the moment, as a part of the making and unmaking of the phenomenon.
Enacting and Embodying the Empirical Material
The next steps in the process for this project took place in different contexts, one with an audience and one being captured via video for the purpose of our own analysis. The first setting was at the 2015 ICQI and included only Colleen in the enactment of the dramatization (although Mark was present); and the second was a small, neighborhood theater, which included the three of us. Each setting offered insight into the analytic process, which I will attempt to illuminate further.
The session at ICQI was one in which we were presenting on the notion of playful analysis in post-intentional phenomenology during which I was to read the dramatization of the moment in the interview that we had chosen to highlight. We had discussed ahead of time the range of possibilities this reading might take, including reading a portion of the script or the entire script from a seated position, standing up and delivering either of the aforementioned options, or possibly even enacting a sort of one-woman mini-drama, although I personally doubted that this last possibility would come to fruition. In the end, we decided to “read the room” and make a judgment call in the moment about which option would be best.
Despite my initial doubt about the more full-blown presentation, given who was in the room at our session and the response to the work leading up to the dramatization, I decided to go for it. This is not to say that I performed to the same level I would in an actual theatrical production, but I did call on my tools of expression to raise the performance a bit above a typical conference presentation. I will talk more about the audience response in the next section of this article, but in addition to the feedback from discussing the dramatization with others in the room, this performance was another form of analytic production.
The second setting in which enacting and embodying the script took place was in a small, rented theater space in which the three of us took turns “acting out” the moment, playing with various moments in the script, and improvising scenes that were not part of the script based on what was written. This exercise, too, proved to be helpful in generating discussion and insight into the empirical material of the script—and exposes how difficult it is to imagine unearthing in other forms of analysis. For instance, in one improvisation based on the moment in the script when the teacher is working with students and the woman researcher is watching the action in silence, we were able to more deeply imagine and theorize the children’s responses to the work of the RAK, as well as the challenges posed to the teacher in implementing the project amid the other demands on her time and attention. Specifically, we enacted the assignment of the RAK to the students, once as we imagined it having happened, and once in what we hoped would be in keeping with social class–sensitive pedagogy. By embodying this moment, we were able to recognize the multiple demands on the teacher, and the many ways in which she may have felt answerable to opposing, or at least conflicting, forces. Enacting the phenomenon in this way opened up a capacity for compassion with our analysis and the humans whose contributions are a part of it, enabling us to resist dominant narratives of education in which teachers are often vilified. Although we all came to this work with prior commitments to disrupt these dominant narratives, this analysis allowed us even more visceral insight into this possibility.
“Audience” Feedback
As I mentioned above, the main “audience” for this work was at the 2015 ICQI presentation, in which Mark and Colleen presented during a session entitled, Playing With Embodied Data Analysis in Post-Intentional Phenomenology. The attendees for this session were from a variety of backgrounds, with a number of arts-based researchers present, as well as scholars interested in poststructural theory, and a few with interest in “working-class” ways of being. The feedback we received after the “performance” of the script was largely in relation to the way in which dramatizing the moment in question allowed for multiplicities of exploration and understanding to coexist in real time. The use of spoken words, body language, and projections on an imagined screen afforded the expression of sometimes contradictory ideas to be layered into the analysis. In addition, because theater is a form that requires an audience to view it, there was co-construction of meaning taking place as the performance unfolded. This co-construction of meaning was also present when we “performed” our analysis in the rented theater space (see “Final Production” section), without an audience; however, the additional meaning-making created by the audience at the conference is an example of the ways in which playing with our analysis as dramatization opened up the constitutive experience of the moment to multiplicities of analyses.
Production 3
A Bit of Ontology
Although we cannot access all that has influenced where our analytic productions have gone, we do know that Bettie St. Pierre’s (2013) words below, when advocating a post-humanist qualitative inquiry, have served as a catalyst:
Importantly, this is an ethical charge. In this ontology, thinking and living are simultaneities, and we have to think possible worlds in which we might live. As long as we think the nature of being as subject/object, materiality does not matter, and we live in the world accordingly. Deeply embedded in the new ontology are ethical concerns that acknowledge the destruction of the world of humanism and what its science projects encourage with their man/nature, human/nonhuman binaries. Refusing that binary logic which pervades our language and thus our living is a priority, because if we see ourselves as always already entangled with, not separate from or superior to matter, our responsibility to being becomes urgent and constant. About the refusal of binaries, Derrida (as cited in Caputo, 1993, p. 86) wrote simply that “deconstruction is justice.” Barad (2010), taking up his charge, wrote “only in this ongoing responsibility to the entangled other, without dismissal (without ‘enough already!’), is there the possibility of justice-to-come. Entanglements are not intertwinings of separate entities, but rather irreducible relations of responsibility.” (pp. 264-265, p. 655)
As we continue to work the posts in post-intentional phenomenology (Vagle, 2010a, 2010b, 2014, 2015; Vagle & Hofsess, 2015), it has become clear that we need to not only pay attention to St. Pierre’s (2013) challenge here, but that we also need to pay particularly close attention to Barad’s (2010) caution regarding dismissiveness—especially with regard to the ontological assumption of a subject/object binary that treats subjects and objects as stable and fixed. This also means that, as post-intentional phenomenologists, we are not interested in reifying a binary between poststructuralist and phenomenological ontologies when engaging in the practice of “analysis.” That is, instead of orienting ourselves to the work of struggling toward a destination (e.g., finding phenomenological essences or themes), we use the animating, enlivening embodied entanglements to guide our analytic play (McLaren, 1999; Stucky & Wimmer, 2002). And this sort of play requires a re-imagining of how the phenomenon in phenomenology is conceived.
When re-imagining the conception of a phenomenon, we turn to the posts, first to St. Pierre (2013) for some help:
In simple terms, phenomenology is rooted in the idea of givenness (for critiques, see Bryant, 2008; Sellars, 1956/1997), the idea that there is a brute reality out there—present and fixed—with an essence that can be both immediately perceived (because it is self-evident) and brought to light and expressed in language. In this way, the phenomenological project leads to an empirical description of “actual,” primary experience and to a particular ontology that maintains a representational logic. (p. 651)
Drawing on some of Derrida’s critiques of Husserl, St. Pierre makes a compelling case for a refusal of phenomenology, to aid qualitative researchers in breaking from humanist ontologies. Given our obvious interest in phenomenology, we are sure it comes as no surprise that we are not all that interested in such a refusal, nor are we interested in lodging a full-fledged “defense” of phenomenology as this would likely lead us down a path to ontological binaries that almost certainly invokes a never-ending either-or debate. We would like to try to avoid this, and instead try to work through some of the ontological entanglements in Mark’s ongoing conception of post-intentional phenomenology.
We begin by joining St. Pierre in refusing some phenomenological concepts, but not phenomenology writ large. Like all ontological traditions, we do not read phenomenology as stable, singular, or fixed. Phenomenology itself is an entanglement of histories, desires, concepts, ideas, struggles, contexts, and so on. We think it needs to be clear that the phenomenology that Derrida critiqued was the early phenomenology of Husserl and not all the varied phenomenologies that have followed over the last century.
Although a comprehensive discussion of this point is beyond the scope of this article, it is important to very briefly note the following:
It can be argued that phenomenology, in the days of Husserl, did not necessarily focus on the subjective lived experience of a stable humanist subject (even though it is sometimes read this way), rather it focused on the intentional (meaningfully connected) relation between and among humans and the world. Husserl’s conception of “phenomena” centered on these intended meanings.
It is, indeed, the case, however, that Husserl saw a phenomenon as having an essence that made it “the thing itself,” and that a phenomenon was made present in its givenness. We do join Derrida and St. Pierre in a critique of the phenomenological concepts of essence, presence, and givenness.
Our critique, however, does not grow into a full refusal of all things phenomenological, but a refusal of essence, presence, and givenness. So we refuse Husserl’s conception of phenomena, but we do not refuse phenomenology writ large as it is has grown, developed, and shifted since the days of Husserl.
Re-imagining phenomena in post-intentional phenomenology. 2
When one practices post-intentional phenomenology (Vagle, 2014, 2015; Vagle & Hofsess, 2015), it can be said that she or he is working along the edges and margins of phenomenology using poststructural ideas (Vagle, 2015)—which is different than practicing ontological dualisms. For instance, phenomenological ontologies and poststructural concepts such as Deleuze and Guattari’s (1980/1987) lines of flight, multiplicities, and rhizome might be considered incommensurate—the former being read as just this side of postpositivism, a predominantly humanist project, and assuming a stable subject; the latter being read as a more open, complicated, playful project in which knowledge, concepts, ideas are inherently unstable. However, Mark’s post-intentional phenomenology (Vagle, 2010a, 2010b, 2014, 2015; Vagle & Hofsess, 2015) actively seeks to not only try to navigate the ruins (St. Pierre & Pillow, 2000) of that which we study using qualitative methodologies, but to do the same with the methodologies (and the philosophies/theories that undergird them) themselves. So instead of invoking either/or logic to “define” what phenomenology “is and is not” and what poststructuralism “is and is not,” Mark has aimed to craft spaces in which post ideas and phenomenological ideas can be put together to see what happens—and some of Deleuze and Guattari’s philosophical concepts provide possible spaces.
This “putting together” is hardly clean, though, as the assumptions that undergird phenomenologies and poststructural philosophies are, indeed, different. In Mark’s early conceptualizing of post-intentional phenomenology, he consistently stresses his desire to imagine a philosophical and methodological space in which all sorts of philosophies, theories, and ideas are put in conceptual dialogue with one another—creating a productive and generative cacophony of philosophies/theories/ideas that accomplishes something(s) that these same individual philosophies/theories/ideas may not be able to do, in the same way at least, on their own. Although this desire remains, Mark (Vagle, 2015) has also been recently persuaded that Deleuze and Guattari would not likely be interested in conceptual dialogues between and among philosophies/theories/ideas, rather they would want others to play with and among philosophies/theories/ideas to see what might come of such playfulness, as it is in this playfulness (as opposed to dialogue) where weeds (and flower and stalk) grow.
The particular playfulness between poststructural ideas and phenomenological ideas here needs to be carefully articulated. As continental philosophies, phenomenologies and poststructural philosophies are part of the same lineage. Again, in Vagle (2015), Mark has argued that post-intentional phenomenology works on the edge of phenomenology and in the margin of poststructuralism (Pinar, Reynolds, Slattery, & Taubman, 2002)—where conceptions of phenomena move from stable, idealized essences that are immediately “present” in time and space (Husserl) to unstable, contextualized, and historicized deconstructions (Derrida). It can be argued that although philosophers such as Heidegger, Gadamer, and Merleau-Ponty took phenomenology in different (and productive) directions than Husserl had hoped, it seems clear that it was Derrida who made the sharper turn from Husserl. And although Robert Sokolowski (2000) has lamented Derrida’s influence on phenomenology—likening him to “that” family member everyone else in the family has to tolerate—Derrida’s critiques of Husserl’s phenomenology are particularly useful to a post-intentional formulation of phenomenology.
David Allison (2005), in his discussion of Derrida’s critiques of Husserl’s notion of presence, writes, “what ‘presents’ itself in language is the representation of nonpresence, what Derrida calls ‘otherness,’ ‘difference,’ or ‘alterity’” (p. 95). By deconstructing Husserl’s notion of presence and givenness, Derrida opens up phenomenology to engage language and context. Allison goes on to stress the significance of Derrida’s contribution:
Meaning can never be isolated or held in abstraction from its context, e.g., its linguistic, semiotic, or historical context. Each such context is itself a system of reference, a system of signifiers, whose function and reality point beyond the present. What is signified in the present, then, necessarily refers to the differentiating and nonpresent system of signifiers in its very meaning. We can only assemble and recall the traces of what went before: we stand within language, not outside it. (p. 98)
Early phenomenological philosophies and long-standing formulations of phenomenological research approaches either tend to stay with Husserl or tend to use some combination of Heideggarian, Gadamerian, and Merleau-Pontean, to name a few, philosophies (Vagle, 2014). For example, both Giorgi (2009) and Moustakas (1994) stayed close to Husserl’s phenomenology, consistently arguing that phenomenological research should focus on commitments to the practices of bracketing and the reduction so that the phenomenon could be described in its pre-reflective givenness. Dahlberg, Dahlberg, and Nystrom (2008) in their configuration of reflective lifeworld research work across both Husserlian (descriptive, transcendental) and Heideggarian (interpretive, hermeneutic) phenomenologies in arguing for a commitment to immediacy and bridling so that openness (Gadamer) to the phenomenon is not compromised. In reflective lifeworld research, there is mention that lived experiences of phenomena vary contextually, signaling that phenomena are not only “presented in consciousness” as Husserl had argued, but also situated in contexts. Furthermore, and more explicit in van Manen’s (1997) hermeneutic phenomenology, phenomenological inquiries are interpretive (Heidegger, Gadamer) acts. That is, to ask phenomenological questions about the world is to engage in an interpretation of interpretations.
As van Manen (2014) carefully discusses, a number of philosophers worked to extend phenomenological philosophies in important ways with regard to, for example, ethics (Levinas), postmodernity (Ihde), critical theory (Ricoeur), gender (de Beauvoir), sociology (Schutz), and politics (Arendt). Post-intentional phenomenology, philosophically and methodologically, joins in these efforts with a focus on reconceiving, poststructurally using Deleuzoguattarian philosophical ideas, some core phenomenological concepts such as intentionality.
Posting intentionality. 3
The philosophical use of intentionality is often (almost always, it seems, in the United States at least) confused with how the word “intend” is used in U.S. English—namely, one’s purpose or plan for doing something. In phenomenological philosophy beginning with Husserl (1900/1970) and extending through Heidegger (1927/1998), Merleau-Ponty (1947/1964), and Sartre (in Moran & Mooney, 2002) to name a few, intentionality has been used to describe the way in which humans are connected meaningfully with the world. For instance, Merleau-Ponty (1947/1964) describes intentionality as the meaning threads that tie us to the world, and Sartre describes (in Moran & Mooney, 2002) it as the meaningful ways in which we burst forth toward the world. Whatever the image, phenomenologists have argued that intentionality, phenomenologically speaking, is not about the subjective intentions (as in purposes or objectives) of individuals, but the ways meanings “come-to-be” in relations. In this way, intentionality means those in-between spaces where individuals find-themselves-intentionally-in relations with others in the world. However, these in-between spaces are not objects that can be poked and prodded, nor can they be observed in the traditional sense. They must be philosophized—conceptualized, discussed, opened-up, and contemplated.
Husserl conceived of intentionality in relation to human consciousness—stressing that consciousness was always conscious of something. The preposition, “of,” became incredibly important in his work, as it turned philosophical attention toward the inseparable intentional connection between subject and the objects of the world. Consciousness was intentional in that it was always directed toward something “outside” of the human mind—and this directedness also connoted interconnectedness. In other words, there could be no conscious meaning if it were not for the world—meaning could only occur between humans and the world. Phenomenological philosophers following Husserl (e.g., Heidegger, Merleau-Ponty, Sartre) have continued to reconceive intentionality, again, as a way of finding-oneself-in relation to the world (Heidegger); bursting forth toward the world (Sartre); and being connected through intentional meaning threads (Merleau-Ponty).
Although these reconceptions have informed post-intentional phenomenology, when posting intentionality, Mark has aimed to reconceive the intentional relation in a Deleuzoguattarian sense—moving phenomenological attention away from the philosophical assumption that a phenomenon has essences, which are stable enough in their intentional connections for meanings to be found, described, and transcended (Husserl). Post-intentional connections do not “mean”; they are constituted and become plural lines of flight, assemblages—they elude, flee, entangle, and take on various intensities in and over time, across contexts.
Furthermore, a post-intentional reconception moves phenomenological attention away from Husserl’s references to ego and consciousness, as these concepts can be interpreted as reifying the very thing Husserl was trying to resist when he described his phenomenology. Aforementioned philosophers (Heidegger, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty) over time brought forth conceptions of intentionality that most certainly did important distancing. Intentionality (again, the meaningful connectedness with the world) became conceived less in terms of consciousness and more in terms of being and embodiment. In post-intentional phenomenology, intentionality is conceived as Deleuzoguattarian connections—as multiplicities. Post-intentional relations are plural, are in a constant process of being made and unmade. In this way, the phenomenon in post-intentional phenomenology is conceived as an assemblage.
Embodiment in post-intentional phenomenology
Merleau-Ponty (1964/1968) talked of the threads of intentionality as part of the ever-moving and changing embodied flesh of the world. This conception of intentionality is useful when posting intentionality, as the move from subjectivity to Merleau-Ponty’s embodiment helps us understand that bodies are our access to the world and one another and that bodies are not necessarily transcendental, but existential (Ihde, 2003).
Posting intentionality extends this point a bit further and conceives of the body as cultured, gendered (Foucault), socially classed (Jones & Vagle, 2013; Vagle & Jones, 2012), and so on. One need not go as far as Foucault, though, here in suggesting that the body is somehow fully dissolved in the social (i.e., body politic), but that an embodied intentionality exists in which the body is lived through (Merleau-Ponty) and is permeated by the social (Ihde, 2003). In this way, the Merleau-Pontean threads of intentionality connect all meaning that runs through relations and are constantly being constructed, de-constructed, blurred, and disrupted. Intentionality, then, is running all over the place, all the time—at times with clarity, but most often in the gnarliness of life (again, as an assemblage).
So, a posted intentionality suggests that intentionalities (emphasis on the plural) are not necessarily traced from origins of meanings—as Deleuze and Guattari (1980/1987) remind us that we always enter into the middle of things. From a Deleuzoguattarian perspective, one does not start with the stable subject and try to follow that subject’s intending on and with the world. That very subject is both constructed and constructing (not dissolved though). She is both agent and acted upon—what is available for that subject is both a manifestation of the social and is made possible by that subject’s intending. This both/and move is important to a post-intentional conception as it complicates the subject just enough to keep the focus on the intentionalities that are at work in all relations—the embodied, the material, the social, the political, and so on.
What results is a more destabilized notion of intentionality—one in which the threads of intentional meanings (Merleau-Ponty, 1947/1964) are not conceived as clear lines of connective tissue between subjects and objects, but as gnarly, shifting connections among things, connections that cannot be traced to origins and destinations. Post-intentional relations become. They do and undo themselves.
We think theorizing embodiment, as a concept, can help us a bit with the “problem” of analysis in post-intentional phenomenology. From a poststructural perspective, analyzing empirical material (data, in qualitative research writ large) is a problem because empirical material is often treated as stable and trace-able, as rooted. Similarly, bodies are often imagined to be stable and separate entities that might be considered distinct from the worlds, histories, and bodies around them. Deleuze and Guattari, for example, do not like roots. They like bodies without organs that move, travel, multiply, and form assemblages—not roots. An embodied analysis of empirical material requires that we try to notice when we are interpreting (and enacting or imposing) dualisms, such as mind or body, and re-focus our attention instead on mind AND body.
Furthermore, this attentiveness to bodies can help us unearth and engage with the literacies at play within them. Stephanie Jones (2013) has expressed that literacies—both those used to make sense of bodies and those “embedded in, performed through, and experienced as bodies”—need to be tended to (p. 525). Attention to our bodies in the analysis process attunes us in unexpected ways to particular moments, experiences, ideas, and literacies that may otherwise go unnoticed.
This enlivening possibility is further opened up through an engagement with the temporality and spatiality of bodies (Ahmed, 2006; Fisher, 2011). The imposed and interpreted stability or coherence of bodies produces itself, limiting possibility within a sense of inevitability or objectivity (Butler, 1993). Inquiry—from within the profoundly unstable, changing, and disruptive body—exposes the vibrant complexity of subjective and embodied research in all of its radical potential. As Phillip B. Zarrilli (2004) puts it, in his essay on Merleau-Ponty’s conception of embodiment as it relates to performance, “This notion of embodiment as a process of encounters opens up ‘the body’ not as an object, and ‘carries us past the inveterate tendency to reify what we are trying to think and understand and engage’” (p. 655).
As we recognize and engage with our own formation and participation from within histories that have attuned, read, and shaped our bodies in particular ways (Jones & Vagle, 2013), we are able to cultivate new postures toward our participants’ own embodied stories. The housing of memory within the body also has profound implications for the embodied living out of analysis. An attunement toward the ways that knowledge lives in our bodies helps us to recognize both the insights and limitations enabled through one’s particular locations, histories, and experiences. An embodied identification or resonance with the empirical material, or a lack thereof, becomes an important site of inquiry for the researcher to examine as part of the work.
The analysis of the body’s relationship to the world around it is further complicated by its “submerged” state within that world. Bodies “become the space they inhabit” (Ahmed, 2006, p. 53). One’s unique perspective is profoundly changed through an interaction with objects. One’s relationship with the front of the classroom as a researcher and as a student is significantly different. From the physical front of the room, the things in my proximity, the actions one is able to see and perceive, and the meanings one makes from those perceptions, shift as one moves through that space. As with the desk, the front of the room touches me as I touch it. Roslyn Diprose (1994) describes the phenomenological world as an “interworld,” an “open circuit” between the discerning body and all that surrounds it (p. 102). And this interworld is shaped through repetition.
Ahmed (2006) writes, “what bodies ‘tend to do’ are effects of histories rather than being originary” (p. 56). These tendencies, which reflect the repetition of particular bodies being shaped to face particular objects, are anything but neutral. As the body is oriented in particular ways toward particular objects, these histories of tending toward things, of objects and bodies working together toward actions, get inscribed into the spaces that surround them. “If spaces extend bodies, then we could say that spaces also extend the shape of the bodies that ‘tend’ to inhabit them” (p. 58). Without exploring the historical and dynamic ways that bodies and spaces interact, the ease or challenge with which bodies inhabit spaces may become naturalized as properties within the bodies themselves.
Descartes effectively cut the body off from the mind, philosophically locating consciousness in the mind alone. This Cartesian dualism presented the subject as center, privileged the idea of an “autonomous meaning-making agent,” and made objectivity thinkable (Vagle, 2014, p. 22). Part of the work of phenomenology was—and is—to undo this division, to reunite the mind and body, and “put back together what Descartes had severed” (Vagle, 2014, p. 35). We believe that a heightened attentiveness to the body in the analysis process may support this aim. We wonder in what ways might an explicit and active engagement with the embodied subjectivity of the researcher offer the research process—not as a thing to get over or solve, but instead as a living, powerful, and animating element of the research process. How might it complicate and clarify the work that we do?
Production 4
A Bit of Methodology
Although the methodological commitment in phenomenological research to the unit of analysis being the phenomenon (and not the participants’ subjective lived experiences) has the potential to turn analytic attention away from the notion of a “humanist, reasoning” self, this still leaves us with much to disrupt—as the notion of analysis seems to inevitably imply a humanistic logic, embedded and encoded within disciplined bodies of researchers.
As mentioned earlier in this article, we are playing analytically with empirical material that we have gathered in a study entitled, Social Class-Sensitive Photo Storying. One of the guiding commitments in social class–sensitive pedagogy (Jones & Vagle, 2013) is to learn to perceive classed bodies in moment-to-moment interactions. We have found that this same commitment is important when conducting our research—that we need to pay profound attention to how we experience and perceive our classed bodies as we analyze empirical material in our study.
In undertaking a close examination of embodiment in post-intentional phenomenology, we are trying to pay attention to ways that we as researchers have become positioned as docile bodies, and to disrupt the discipline imposed by the practice of academic research (Foucault, 2012). We would argue that this disciplining results in prohibiting access to certain experience and ways of knowing that may be of importance to the phenomenon under study. By turning our researchers’ eyes on our own embodied responses to the empirical material, we hope to gain access not only to a greater understanding of a meaningful element of what it means to engage in post-intentional phenomenology, we also hope to achieve a more deeply felt experience of the phenomenon being studied.
Amplifying this commitment to social class awareness in research is our belief that middle-class assumptions/beliefs/norms are implicitly and explicitly embedded within many research practices. We seek to explore these assumptions as we experience them moving through—and working on—us in our work. In addition, as capitalism is dependent upon the concealment of subjective labor through its production of things, 4 attempting to make our own labor explicit in this work aligns with our anti-classist commitments.
Guided by these concerns, in this article, we have played with the idea of embodied analysis in the social class–sensitive photo-storying study. In our productions, we explored one particular moment from the study. Although it is customary to introduce and contextualize empirical material, then perhaps include part of the direct transcript and “analyze it,” we have decided to turn this practice upside down. Instead, we started with our embodied and performed analysis and now share the empirical material we explored.
A fourth grade student, Iris (pseudonym), tells the story of a “random act of kindness” (RAK) performed and written about as a part of a teacher-directed assignment in honor of her father, who is a firefighter in her local community. She speaks about the importance and urgency of that work with emotive, embodied passion. During the interview/conversation, she variously embodies incredulity, clarity, somberness, and an almost welcoming or an embracing of talking about it. She seemed to seize upon the moment of having rapt listeners to allow her passion and concern to live and move in her body, transforming her from a young student intent on performing with precision and accuracy the role of disciplined student into a fuller, more alive and spontaneous young being, using her whole body to relate what she takes to be the underappreciated work being done by her father and his colleagues.
IRIS TRANSCRIPTION
One thing I noticed about your particular random act of kindness, and in both cases, you identified certain type of work—post office work and firefighting—as work that it sounds like deserve some type of thank you through a random act of kindness. What is it about the work of firefighters and post office workers that you think . . . makes it particularly deserving of this?
Well, firefighters save lives and houses and—mostly houses, sometimes houses, but, . . . you know firefighters risk their lives to help others. And post office people, they make sure that the letters that are very important get through to the other person. And I just thought that they do really important work.
What would happen, do you think, if we didn’t have—let’s talk first about firefighters and then about post office workers. . . . I’m asking you to imagine . . . what do you think would happen if we didn’t have people whose work it was to fight fires?
(Pause) It would be very bad. (Laughs)
OK, in what ways would it be bad?
Well, people could get stuck in buildings. Children and adults, they could get trapped and some of them could die. And if we didn’t have workers like that and the equipment to do it, then that would be the worst thing ever. If we didn’t have Benjamin Franklin inventing the firefighting job, then we wouldn’t have that.
And the fact that you wanted to thank them, specifically the firefighters and the post office workers, do you feel like maybe we don’t thank them enough or that they don’t get thanked enough?
They don’t get thanked enough, because people just say thank you and give them a cake and that’s it. That’s what my dad said, that one person only thanked him and didn’t do anything special for them.
He’s only had one person thank him?
One person, yeah.
How many years has he been a firefighter?
Uh, I think two years ago he graduated from college and, yeah, for two years he’s been a firefighter.
Mm.
I think it’s really interesting what you’re saying about the important work that they do and that they don’t often get thanked. People maybe just kind of take them for granted in a sense.
One person had their puppy stuck, they were newborn puppies, stuck in a fire. And my dad saved their lives and the person only thanked them, and that’s it.
What else do you think they could have done?
What do you mean, uh . . .
Like when you said “they thanked him, but that’s it.” It makes it sound like you think they could have done more, you think, in their thanking . . .
Yes, they could have done way more. Like thrown them a party or given them something to help them.
I know that equipment’s awfully important, right? Of course, there’s the human beings, and they’re running the equipment, making sure it’s up to date. You know, I’m not really even sure, do you know . . . where the money comes from to have the fire engines in the firehouse and to pay the workers, the firefighters?
Yeah.
Do you have any sense of that?
Um. Sorry—I thought I saw my brother.
(Laughs)
Um. (All three laugh.) I don’t know.
From the start of the research project, we have explicitly discussed how post-intentional phenomenological research is embodied for the researcher AND for the participant. So, we decided we would pay attention to our perceptions of bodies when gathering empirical material. But in our analytical “playings” with this moment, we also have been struck by the importance of treating the phenomenon as an embodied assemblage that is continually made and unmade. That is, we are coming to realize that what it was like for the students to experience using photo storying to create social class–sensitive elementary classrooms seems to centrally be about embodied intensities (Hofsess, 2013), as photographs are storied. Photographs are not merely selected, written about, and then shared—social class–sensitive photo stories are embodied by the author of those stories, by the analysts who attempt to learn more from the author about these stories, and by the concepts that make these embodiments thinkable.
In this way, our embodied analysis cannot be traced to a starting point, nor can it be conceived as something outside a myriad of entangled connections. One of the main purposes of this article was to invite you—the reader—into an entangled journey with us. We have tried to provide glimpses of important moments that have woven themselves so profoundly into our empirical material, analysis, and bodies that to speak of them as distinct or separate would dramatically diminish them and their relationship with one another. Following Deleuze and Guattari’s (1980/1987) call “to move between things, establish a logic of the AND, overthrow ontology, do away with foundations, nullify endings and beginnings” (p. 25), we spend the last pages of the article AND-ing our embodied analysis, purposefully not offering a tidy closing that attempts to tie up loose ends. As we close this article, we invite you to further complicate this entanglement, attentive to your own and-ings, embodied literacies, creative impulses, and multiplicities of analysis.
Production 5
Our And-ing Production at the American Educational Research Association (AERA) Conference, 2015
AND
AND
AND
AND
Postlude: Analytic Reflections From AERA
At our round-table discussion at AERA, during which we shared some of the ways that attentiveness to bodies were helping us think about post-intentional analysis, an interested and engaged researcher posed the question: “In your work, how do you differentiate between physicality and embodiment?” We’ve returned to this question again and again, because the dichotomy it presented was so vivid and alluring. “We don’t” was our shorthand response. That refusal has helped us deepen into the entanglement we are cultivating with our empirical material.
Part of the tension in our response can be understood in relation to our interest in avoiding a mind-body binary that the phenomenology of Merleau-Ponty also troubles. The question from the researcher outlined above can be read as presupposing a distinction between physicalizing a phenomenon and embodying a phenomenon. In drawing on Colleen’s background in theater and performance, part of our process was to seek to make the invisible visible in our analysis. This is, indeed, accomplished in part through the physicalization of a moment, and the act of physicalization is itself an act of embodiment. Merleau-Ponty “rejected mind-body dualism, and (re)claimed the centrality of the body and embodied experience as the locus for ‘experience as it is lived in a deepening awareness’” (Zarrilli, 2004, p. 655).
Final Production (for Now)
Our Collective Artistic Engagements With the Dramatized Analysis
Today, we are sitting in a circle in a small neighborhood theater. Mark is performing the role of the teacher, seated on the edge of a chair; Colleen and Angela are seated on the floor, performing fourth-grade students. The teacher speaks to the students in a deliberately expressive way as they fidget and listen and become the students they’ve been talking about for the past year.
We are not simply performing monolithic representations of characters. There is an element of the students and teacher we are studying that is living inside of each of us, and as we access those parts of ourselves—attuning ourselves to intensities that arise—unmaking and remaking the stories in ways that radically implicate ourselves and each other, our analysis becomes a new thing. Something new is being created, and all our conversations and writings and theory and empirical material are wrapped up inside of it.
We are experiencing—in/through/with our bodies—the stories we’re seeking to learn from. It feels dangerous and new and exciting. It feels like creation and memory. We are sitting here together, in a circle.
Also present in the ways we work to make the invisible visible through the process of embodiment is our own implicatedness as researchers in a historical tradition that reifies hierarchies of knowledge production in problematic ways. In addition to analyzing the empirical material through embodied practices, we are also interested in making certain invisible elements of research and knowledge production visible, as a way of disrupting hierarchies and troubling traditions that contain historical violence. By accessing and embodying others’ stories that live inside of us, we opened ourselves to experiencing the empirical material from multiple perspectives, not just intellectually. By engaging our bodies, we came into deeper contact with the phenomenon as a result of breaking down the mind/body binary.
In post-intentional phenomenological analysis, a phenomenon is explored to see what it might become—not analyzed to describe its essence. Oftentimes, we cannot plan out these becomings ahead of time. We had no way of knowing, in our mind-bodies, that we would make our way to dramatizations and poetry. In fact, when we sat down at Mark’s table in his messy office to begin to analyze our empirical material, we had planned to do some “textual” analysis—to make some sense of how our interaction with Iris might give us access to the phenomenon of social class–sensitive photo storying. However, our bodies would not allow us to do this. Our bodies knew things that we could not put into language at that point in time. We needed to perform, act, write poetry, present publicly, talk more, puzzle more, feel more, and think more to explore the unmaking and making of our assembled phenomenon.
And so we stopped (for now) at a small theater, trying to play roles as teacher and students—in ways that we found concerning and ways that we would hope would take place in social class–sensitive schools and classrooms, all of which continually make and unmake this assemblage.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The Social Class-Sensitive Photo-Storying Study was financially supported by the Office of the Vice President for Research, University of Minnesota.
