teaching philosophy

TEACHING PHILOSOPHY

Doctors don't heal patients. They are a support for their patient's own healing process. Likewise, teachers can't make their student's learn. Nobody can do that. However, teachers can be a support for their students to learn. If the conditions arise where a capable student desiring to learn, meets with a teacher who is an expert in their field who can provide the appropriate space of encouragment, then within that support learning can occur. I have found the most positive approach has been to motivate the student to benefit themselves through cultivation of the hands, head, and heart. Ideally, these three zones should function in harmony, and minimally none of them should be ignored. This method of unifying craft (hands), theory and historical consciousness (head), and uncontrived awareness (heart), can be traced back, in considerably different form, to the eighteenth century Swiss pedagogue Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi. Each student is a unique being requiring individual consideration depending on their level of maturity and personal evolution, technically, intellectually, and emotionally. With this in mind over the years I have developed a number of lectures, assignments, and critical approaches that broadly seek to bring the student to the point of generating and sustaining a coherent body of self-motivated artwork. The greatest reward of teaching is watching this process of inspiration and competence unfold.

The Hands

Technique is not an end in itself, but rather a skillful means for a possible transaction to occur. One should be careful not to separate craft from the meaning of an artwork, as is often done, because technique affects how an image looks, which in turn informs what it means. In other words, the aesthetic and formative should be considered in union. Both the medium the artist chooses and what they do or don’t do with it matters. The challenge is to become technically masterful in one’s craft without being caught by habit. Learning new techniques offers oneself a greater variety of choices from which one may make social statements, or seek to share otherwise private epiphanies.

Personally, I have attempted to master black and white fine printing, chromogenic color, Polaroid, and am currently occupied with investigating the growing gamut of digital output possibilities. I first learned to print when I was 14 years old (1972) and have never stopped trying to improve, expand, and revise my understanding. I seek to pass this attitude on to my students as much through example as information. There is no perfect camera format or exposure/development system which suits everyone’s needs and unique situation. Therefore, I teach all the methods I know of. This must be coordinated with a growing awareness of light. We photograph the light reflecting and emanating from phenomena; we do not just document things. Within that awareness, black and white photography involves a keen sensitivity to tone, contrast, and value, whereas color photography involves coordinating color balance, saturation, contrast, and value. Each mode of photographic production, be it conventional black and white, color, or digital entails specific means for accomplishing similar yet distinct ends. I teach whatever method is appropriate, depending on the needs of the class, the student, and the situation.

The Head

I take it as a responsibility to convince students that the critical analysis of photographs is both necessary and useful. There are a number of approaches to this. Firstly, I give a lot of slide lectures from my personal collection of slides from books. These lectures include both historical and contemporary work emphasizing the photographer as artist, branching out to consider the many ubiquitous uses of photographs. Through this example I seek to better inform my students historical consciousness, as well as expand awareness of just how broad the field of photography really is. Each lecture relates to a forthcoming assignment on either the beginning, intermediate, or advanced level. The complexity of critical theory I introduce increases in detail as one progresses through the stages. Ultimately, I am interested in getting the point across that the meaning of a photograph, or any image for that matter, encompasses the interface of image, observer, and culture. Formalism essentializes the image and heroifies the artist; subjectivism emphasizes the observer and mystifies the artist; whereas in postmodernism the stress is on cultural context. All of these critical inventions are incomplete and contradictory when taken independently. Provisional meaning is generated, not passively received, out of the transitory triangulation of image / observer / and culture in interdependence. It has been my endeavor as a teacher to expose my students to a variety of informed interpretations within which we can sometimes agree to disagree.

There is always something to say about a photograph, although admittedly words are not always the best currency to exchange for an image. Usually I try to begin a critique in a spirit of openness, meaning free of reification and closure. This involves a silent meditative dialogue with the image, and is an acquired skill. From there one can move the concentration to either structure, function, content, or intention. Within structure I include medium, form, technique, and display.

In examining function I look to see if the piece in question works as mimesis of nature, simulation of culture, catharsis and/or expression of emotion, exemplification of idea, escape from reality, as a heuristic tool for learning, a pragmatic device for teaching, or whether it is merely academic – art about itself and other art. I observe how these functions combine in interesting and unique ways.

The analysis of content involves semiotics in the sense that one attempts to read elements of photographs in terms of iconic, indexical, and symbolic signs. This approach primarily refers to the obvious subject matter, yet the incidental details that photographs depict should not be ignored. Very often the reveries they evoke in the viewer explode a neat semiotic analysis. Both the obvious meaning and the personal meaning should be examined not only intellectually and politically, but also emotionally and spiritually.

Analysis of intention is not always necessary in the context of a classroom when the purpose of the work is to fulfill the requirements of a clearly explained assignment. However, it is useful to know what the artist/photographer had in mind when critiquing self-motivated work. Nevertheless, when we ask why an artist did something and then compare that to their success (Marcel Duchamp’s "art coefficient") we should keep in mind that not all work is necessarily an illustration of a preconceived one-dimensional idea, but often a process through which a hidden intention is revealed. Also, in the big world the artist is just simply not always around to answer the question, so we should not stress or rely on intentionalism too heavily. For these reasons I usually ask the student who made the work to listen to what I and their peers have to say about it before hearing their response. They stand to benefit more that way. Critique is to explore meaning and enhance appreciation and understanding as much as it is to learn what one could have done perhaps better. In the end, structure, function, content, and intention all affect each other and must be placed in cultural context before returning to openness.

The Heart

The heart of photography is neither merely tracing or referencing the appearances of surfaces, nor constructing staged allegories, but rather involves cultivating an uncontrived awareness which is lyrical, in the moment, and transcends the mechanical. Photography is a discipline and technology which marks surfaces with light for the purpose of amplifying and filtering our capacity to imagine and perceive. It is within the province of the imagination and desire that the heart of photography dwells. At the threshold of that space a monologue of questions and answers presents itself.

Why make photographs?
This can only be answered through introspection. Perhaps to "celebrate the light", as William Carlos Williams put it, or to "praise shadows" as Junichiro Tanazaki would have it. There are very many good and bad reasons to make photographs.

How can one consistently make exceptional photographs?
No matter how much technique and theory one learns, this can only be accomplished through mindfulness, patience, diligence, playfulness, and a bit of luck.

How can we displace our visual habits and see freshly?
We should save our analysis for the hands and head of photography, and learn to cut through discursive thinking and opinionated aesthetic materialism.

What does our artwork contribute to the world?
Slowly we learn to understand how others might benefit from our efforts.

Do you control your camera or vice-versa?

The heart of photography involves a commitment to working out these questions and evolving one's own individual answers. It is a way of life.

Februrary, 2002

ED HECKERMAN

TEACHING PHILOSOPHY Doctors don't heal patients. They are a support for their patient's own healing process. Likewise, teachers can't make their student's learn. Nobody can do that. However, teachers can be a support for their students to learn. If the conditions arise where a capable student desiring to learn, meets with a teacher who is an expert in their field who can provide the appropriate space of encouragment, then within that support learning can occur. I have found the most positive approach has been to motivate the student to benefit themselves through cultivation of the hands, head, and heart. Ideally, these three zones should function in harmony, and minimally none of them should be ignored. This method of unifying craft (hands), theory and historical consciousness (head), and uncontrived awareness (heart), can be traced back, in considerably different form, to the eighteenth century Swiss pedagogue Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi. Each student is a unique being requiring individual consideration depending on their level of maturity and personal evolution, technically, intellectually, and emotionally. With this in mind over the years I have developed a number of lectures, assignments, and critical approaches that broadly seek to bring the student to the point of generating and sustaining a coherent body of self-motivated artwork. The greatest reward of teaching is watching this process of inspiration and competence unfold. The Hands Technique is not an end in itself, but rather a skillful means for a possible transaction to occur. One should be careful not to separate craft from the meaning of an artwork, as is often done, because technique affects how an image looks, which in turn informs what it means. In other words, the aesthetic and formative should be considered in union. Both the medium the artist chooses and what they do or don’t do with it matters. The challenge is to become technically masterful in one’s craft without being caught by habit. Learning new techniques offers oneself a greater variety of choices from which one may make social statements, or seek to share otherwise private epiphanies. Personally, I have attempted to master black and white fine printing, chromogenic color, Polaroid, and am currently occupied with investigating the growing gamut of digital output possibilities. I first learned to print when I was 14 years old (1972) and have never stopped trying to improve, expand, and revise my understanding. I seek to pass this attitude on to my students as much through example as information. There is no perfect camera format or exposure/development system which suits everyone’s needs and unique situation. Therefore, I teach all the methods I know of. This must be coordinated with a growing awareness of light. We photograph the light reflecting and emanating from phenomena; we do not just document things. Within that awareness, black and white photography involves a keen sensitivity to tone, contrast, and value, whereas color photography involves coordinating color balance, saturation, contrast, and value. Each mode of photographic production, be it conventional black and white, color, or digital entails specific means for accomplishing similar yet distinct ends. I teach whatever method is appropriate, depending on the needs of the class, the student, and the situation. The Head I take it as a responsibility to convince students that the critical analysis of photographs is both necessary and useful. There are a number of approaches to this. Firstly, I give a lot of slide lectures from my personal collection of slides from books. These lectures include both historical and contemporary work emphasizing the photographer as artist, branching out to consider the many ubiquitous uses of photographs. Through this example I seek to better inform my students historical consciousness, as well as expand awareness of just how broad the field of photography really is. Each lecture relates to a forthcoming assignment on either the beginning, intermediate, or advanced level. The complexity of critical theory I introduce increases in detail as one progresses through the stages. Ultimately, I am interested in getting the point across that the meaning of a photograph, or any image for that matter, encompasses the interface of image, observer, and culture. Formalism essentializes the image and heroifies the artist; subjectivism emphasizes the observer and mystifies the artist; whereas in postmodernism the stress is on cultural context. All of these critical inventions are incomplete and contradictory when taken independently. Provisional meaning is generated, not passively received, out of the transitory triangulation of image / observer / and culture in interdependence. It has been my endeavor as a teacher to expose my students to a variety of informed interpretations within which we can sometimes agree to disagree. There is always something to say about a photograph, although admittedly words are not always the best currency to exchange for an image. Usually I try to begin a critique in a spirit of openness, meaning free of reification and closure. This involves a silent meditative dialogue with the image, and is an acquired skill. From there one can move the concentration to either structure, function, content, or intention. Within structure I include medium, form, technique, and display. In examining function I look to see if the piece in question works as mimesis of nature, simulation of culture, catharsis and/or expression of emotion, exemplification of idea, escape from reality, as a heuristic tool for learning, a pragmatic device for teaching, or whether it is merely academic – art about itself and other art. I observe how these functions combine in interesting and unique ways. The analysis of content involves semiotics in the sense that one attempts to read elements of photographs in terms of iconic, indexical, and symbolic signs. This approach primarily refers to the obvious subject matter, yet the incidental details that photographs depict should not be ignored. Very often the reveries they evoke in the viewer explode a neat semiotic analysis. Both the obvious meaning and the personal meaning should be examined not only intellectually and politically, but also emotionally and spiritually. Analysis of intention is not always necessary in the context of a classroom when the purpose of the work is to fulfill the requirements of a clearly explained assignment. However, it is useful to know what the artist/photographer had in mind when critiquing self-motivated work. Nevertheless, when we ask why an artist did something and then compare that to their success (Marcel Duchamp’s "art coefficient") we should keep in mind that not all work is necessarily an illustration of a preconceived one-dimensional idea, but often a process through which a hidden intention is revealed. Also, in the big world the artist is just simply not always around to answer the question, so we should not stress or rely on intentionalism too heavily. For these reasons I usually ask the student who made the work to listen to what I and their peers have to say about it before hearing their response. They stand to benefit more that way. Critique is to explore meaning and enhance appreciation and understanding as much as it is to learn what one could have done perhaps better. In the end, structure, function, content, and intention all affect each other and must be placed in cultural context before returning to openness. The Heart The heart of photography is neither merely tracing or referencing the appearances of surfaces, nor constructing staged allegories, but rather involves cultivating an uncontrived awareness which is lyrical, in the moment, and transcends the mechanical. Photography is a discipline and technology which marks surfaces with light for the purpose of amplifying and filtering our capacity to imagine and perceive. It is within the province of the imagination and desire that the heart of photography dwells. At the threshold of that space a monologue of questions and answers presents itself. Why make photographs? This can only be answered through introspection. Perhaps to "celebrate the light", as William Carlos Williams put it, or to "praise shadows" as Junichiro Tanazaki would have it. There are very many good and bad reasons to make photographs. How can one consistently make exceptional photographs? No matter how much technique and theory one learns, this can only be accomplished through mindfulness, patience, diligence, playfulness, and a bit of luck. How can we displace our visual habits and see freshly? We should save our analysis for the hands and head of photography, and learn to cut through discursive thinking and opinionated aesthetic materialism. What does our artwork contribute to the world? Slowly we learn to understand how others might benefit from our efforts. Do you control your camera or vice-versa? The heart of photography involves a commitment to working out these questions and evolving one's own individual answers. It is a way of life. Februrary, 2002 HOME TEACHING