Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Motivations, Reflection, Research

Reflections on Professionalism and Unprofessionalism

I missed the last lecture on professionalism and unprofessionalism due to family circumstances. Ironically, missing out on topics that interest me most. But watching the recording was still a rich experience, listening to the discussions and the different perspectives people brought to the conversation. 

I read the article How to Be an Unprofessional Artist by Andrew Berardini, which Jonathan shared in the lecture. And, I think the word “unprofessional” carries a certain weight, often with negative connotations. It reminds me of how the word “steal” is used provocatively in Steal Like An Artist by Austin Kleon, or how “disabled” can be perceived in different ways, negative for some, yet embraced by others as a form of identity and empowerment. Language is powerful; it doesn’t just describe the world, it shapes it. It influences how we see ourselves, how others perceive us, and what opportunities are available to us.

A key point in the discussion was how professionalism is often framed by rigid, exclusionary standards, ones that can erase individuality, lived experience, or even care. But does professionalism have to mean conforming to a narrow, predetermined image? Many so-called unprofessional traits: honesty, vulnerability, and unconventional approaches are actually strengths. They challenge existing systems, create space for new ways of thinking, and foster deeper engagement.

The tension between professional and unprofessional seems to lie in whether professionalism is dictated by external standards or defined through integrity, care, and dedication to one’s practice. If professionalism means respect for oneself, for others, and for the work, then it doesn’t have to mean suppressing individuality or creativity. I see professionalism not as following a strict rulebook, but as a commitment to craft, ethics, and meaningful engagement.

As a mother of a child with special needs, I’m particularly aware of how language shapes perception. In different contexts, the term “disabled” can be either empowering or limiting. Could “unprofessional” also be reclaimed? Maybe, but only if doing so truly empowers rather than undermines.

My own art practice naturally resists traditional notions of professionalism. Coming from multiple backgrounds, embracing mistakes, and working in multidisciplinary ways, I see value in experimentation and non-traditional approaches. Rejecting conventional professionalism doesn’t mean rejecting care, commitment, or quality. It means refusing to be boxed into a system that wasn’t designed for people with diverse experiences and ways of working. Above all, rejecting traditional professionalism can be an act of resistance, challenging exclusionary structures that dictate who belongs and what is deemed acceptable work.

I navigate between institutional and freelance work, moving fluidly between structured and independent spaces. Working with institutions while maintaining my own perspective allows me to challenge the system from within while also creating alternative ways of working. It’s about understanding the rules but choosing when and how to break them in ways that are meaningful.

This ability to shift between spaces sometimes fitting in, sometimes disrupting gives me agency. It also allows me to act as a bridge for others who feel like they don’t fit into traditional structures. This is something I see in my work, whether through Moon Letters, Creative Peers, or other social sculpture projects.

Rather than seeing professionalism and unprofessionalism as rigid opposites, I see them as fluid. True professionalism, to me, is about care, respect, and meaningful engagement, qualities that don’t require conforming to outdated norms, but rather, reimagining them.

Somewhere in Oxford…

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Reflection, Research

Reflecting on Jonathan’s Lecture: A Messy Introduction to Practice-Based Research Methodologies for Artists

Watching Jonathan’s lecture A Messy Introduction for the second time was a completely different experience from the first. Three months ago, it felt like a relief—as though I had finally been given permission to embrace the uncertainty and messiness of my practice. I realised that nothing was wrong with how I work or feel about the creative process. Rather than viewing my approach as chaotic or unfocused, I began to see it as a form of action research—a way of learning embedded in the act of doing!

I returned to this lecture with a question that arose after last week session How to Be an Explorer: How is my practice guiding me, rather than me controlling it? Watching the lecture again allowed me to refine my thinking and embrace my process as an ongoing cycle of reflection and experimentation.

I learnt that action research isn’t about gathering knowledge and then applying it in a controlled way. Instead, it’s about researching through practice, learning as you go, and allowing discoveries to emerge through action.

The lecture reminded me of how I’ve found my most valuable insights through interaction—whether with people, materials, or space. For example, I realised that my time spent working and engaging with people in the library was far more effective than simply sitting and reading. That moment of recognition was, in itself, action research.

Jonathan introduces four key characteristics of action research:

1. Cyclical: The process is not linear; it loops back on itself, following a rhythm of planning, acting, observing, and reflecting.

2. Collaborative: Research is not done in isolation; it involves engaging with people and/or materials.

3. Qualitative: Not quantitative.

4. Reflective: The practitioner is constantly questioning, not just the work, but their own position within it.

The idea that research is cyclical resonated with me deeply. I often feel like I’m going in circles—revisiting ideas, reworking concepts, and questioning everything. But what if this isn’t a flaw, but rather the natural rhythm of research? Instead of seeing it as going backwards, I now view it as deepening my understanding.

This brings to mind the concept of social sculpture, which, like action research, does not aim for fixed outcomes. It is a living process, shaped by dialogue, participation, and continuous enquiry.

My socially engaged work as a creative producer at The Library is an example of how action research operates in real-world settings. Rather than following a rigid structure, my approach is fluid and responsive.

For instance, I’ve observed that:

• Engaging with people in the library is more valuable than just reading there.

• Learning happens through doing, not just planning.

• Reflection is not just a retrospective process, it happens in real-time.

This aligns with Jonathan’s reflection-in-action model, where the practitioner allows uncertainty and improvisation to guide their decisions. My sessions at the library are not about delivering a pre-determined programme; they are about co-creating an experience with the participants, allowing the outcomes to emerge organically.

One of the slides in the lecture included a quote by Martin A. Schwartz:

“The more comfortable we become with being stupid, the deeper we will wade into the unknown and the more likely we are to make big discoveries.”

This really stuck with me. In artistic practice, there’s often pressure to have everything figured out, to justify every decision, and to present a polished narrative. But this quote suggests that true discovery happens when we allow ourselves to feel lost and unsure.

This resonates with my experience as a member of Ghost Art School, where I always allow myself to experiment with materials freely, without the fear of losing anything or being judged. Most of the work I present at Ghost Art School exhibitions is experimental and joyful.

Instead of feeling like I have to map everything out in advance, I am learning to trust that my research is unfolding in its own way. This lecture reinforced the idea that my artistic process isn’t about arriving at answers, but about learning how to ask better questions.

Kinetic sculpture, I Made This Pet 2024 for Auchingarrich Wildlife Park Exhibition by Ghost Art School. https://www.instagram.com/p/C_x9yZsIEin/?igsh=MXdibGR2enJtMTk2Mw==

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Reflection, Research, Tutorials 2024/2025

Reflecting on the “Thinking Through Social Practice”  Online Workshop

Today, I attended an engaging online workshop, Thinking Through Social Practice, facilitated by David McGoven. The session offered a reflective space to explore social practice. What made the workshop especially rewarding was its small, interactive format, allowing participants to share their practices, collaborate on tasks, and develop manifestos that resonate with their creative values.

What Is Social Practice? Social practice, as discussed in the session, is rooted in the idea that art’s value extends beyond objects—it lies in relationships, conversations, and the transformations they inspire. Pablo Helguera, in Education for Socially Engaged Art, defines it as work dependent on social interaction as a key factor of its existence. Unlike traditional conceptions of the artist as a visionary or critic, social practice views the artist as a collaborator working with society in a professional capacity.

One of the workshop’s highlights was crafting personal manifestos to articulate our roles and responsibilities as socially engaged artists. Here’s my manifesto:

1. My work remains private while in progress and becomes public once complete.

2. I am the creator of the idea and responsible for its execution.

3. You, as a participant, are a valued contributor to this social work.

4. Your submission remains your intellectual property.

5. By contributing, you agree to its use in this project’s context.

6. This project prioritises collective learning and dialogue.

7. It is non-profit and exists as a form of social sculpture.

This manifesto reflects my ongoing exploration of collaboration, ownership, and the boundaries between individual and collective creativity.

The workshop reaffirmed my belief that social practice is about relationships—not just between people, but also between ideas, disciplines, and systems. As an artist, I am constantly navigating these relationships, finding ways to balance personal vision with community needs.

The Thinking Through Social Practice workshop was a powerful reminder that art is not just about creating—it’s about connecting. It’s about asking questions, challenging systems, and imagining new possibilities alongside others.

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Reflection, Writing

The White Pube Lecture

This week, I attended a truly inspiring lecture by The White Pube, a collective I’ve admired for their influence in the art world, especially in championing new and emerging artists. Gabrielle de la Puente and Zarina Muhammad, who started their journey as students at Central Saint Martins, have since grown into influential voices in the contemporary art scene. Their candid and relatable approach resonates deeply, and it was fascinating to learn more about their evolution.

The collective has recently released a book titled Poor Artist, and I was intrigued by their process and approach to publishing. As someone planning to create a book for our upcoming exhibition in March 2025, their journey felt particularly relevant. Gabrielle and Zarina shared how they ventured into publishing without prior experience in creative writing or the publishing industry, relying instead on the foundation of their studio practice. This reminded me of Roy Claire Potter’s words about how creative work stems from lived experience, a sentiment that deeply connects with my own artistic practice.

A highlight for me was when Gabrielle reflected on a conversation with her tutor. She had asked, “How do I become an artist?” to which her tutor replied, “Don’t stop making art.” That phrase stayed with me—not just for its simplicity but for its broader implications. Making art isn’t confined to producing physical pieces; it extends to engaging with the art world in multiple ways: reading, writing, reflecting, and staying informed about what’s happening around us.

The lecture also highlighted how The White Pube began writing for themselves, creating a voice that spoke to two audiences at once: the critical, often inaccessible world of theory, and the everyday experience of artists. They carved out a niche by addressing what they felt was missing—a relatable, conversational space in art writing that didn’t conform to traditional academic or journalistic norms.

This approach inspires me to reflect on my own work and how I can make my practice and writing more accessible, honest, and personal. Gabrielle and Zarina’s story is a reminder that starting small, writing for yourself, and embracing your voice can lead to impactful outcomes.

As I think about the book we’ll be creating for our exhibition, their journey offers a template for how to take risks and embrace the unknown. It’s not about perfection but about authenticity and a willingness to keep going.

This lecture was not only insightful but also a reminder of the power of persistence and self-expression in art. I’m grateful for their honesty and look forward to delving into Poor Artist for more inspiration.