Orr and Shreeve (2017) describe the studio as one of many signature pedagogies within art and design. These are core activities from the professional context translated into the university setting to equip students with essential skills needed for the real world. They postulate that ‘A space may not seem like pedagogy, but in its widest sense, the studio helps structure what can and does take place when students learn, and it has been a central part of organised learning in visual arts for more than a century.’ (p. 90)
The Fine Art studio fosters experimentation, risk-taking, dialogue, contemplation, uncertainty, and discovery. By sharing a studio, students learn to communicate their intentions, negotiate the use of space, develop their work and receive feedback, and collectively build a studio culture. In Workshop 1 of the PgCert, a colleague highlighted that their students played background music to relax while working in their digital studio. I added that on the contrary, Drawing students preferred no music. It is enshrined in our studio manifesto, partly to support neurodiverse students who may find music distracting, partly because they cannot agree on song choice. Despite their divergent preferences, one commonality emerged: the studio is a shared space underpinned by collective decision-making.
The authors highlight that the studio in academia is under threat due to increased student numbers. An interesting proposition by Prof. Peterson (2015, cited in Orr et al., 2017) was to reframing the ‘studio as a state of mind’ where students collaborate across multiple venues: virtually, onsite, and outside the university. While there are benefits to this multispatial approach what struck me was as this essential pedagogical resource within Fine Art was being eroded, it seemed new terminology had emerged in an attempt to shroud or inoculate its adverse impacts.
As a tutor, I sometimes encounter students’ and staff dissatisfaction with the diminishing student:space ratio. Some students have cited it as a reason for their absence. I work with colleagues to ensure each student has a space. We also encourage them to negotiate depending on their practice’s needs. For instance, a student filming offsite could allow another student making larger work to use their space. The constant closure of studios during breaks continues to incite petitions (Fig.1).
Similarly, there is an increasing dearth of artists’ studios in London (Chaudhuri, 2024). A key example is Acme Studios’ ongoing campaign to save the Propeller Factory in Deptford, ‘which is the largest remaining long-term studio building of its kind in the capital.’ (2024). What impact might its potential closure have on current artists and our graduating students?
Before we wrote our Drawing studio manifesto, I gave a talk on a variety of ways artists use their studios, from introspective spaces to social settings. Having spoken at Acme’s campaign launch last year, I connected the internal world of academia to the external realities. I find myself in conflicting positions: troubled by the loss of space and yet needing to encourage students to work within these constraints. As I reflect on the studio as Signature Pedagogy, I also wonder where our students’ practices will be located after UAL.
Bibliography
Acme Studios. (2024). Acme Propeller Factory Campaign. [online] Available at: https://acme.org.uk/acme-propeller-factory-campaign/
Chaudhuri, A. (2024). ‘My studio costs half my income’: can British art survive soaring rents and property developers?. The Guardian. [online] 24 Jun. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/article/2024/jun/24/studio-costs-half-income-can-british-art-survive-soaring-rents-property-developers.
Orr, S. & Shreeve, A. (2017). Teaching practices for creative practitioners. In Art and Design Pedagogy in Higher Education: Knowledge, Values and Ambiguity in the Creative Curriculum. Milton: Taylor & Francis Group.