Читать книгу Creative Research Methods 2e - Kara Helen - Страница 13
ОглавлениеCreative research methods in practice
Chapter summary
This chapter gives a more in-depth introduction to arts-based research, embodied research, multi-modal research and research using technology. It also introduces autoethnography, which can include all four approaches. The aim is to show some of the opportunities offered by these methods, as well as some of the challenges they present in practice.
In the arts, the creative and the scholarly are often one and the same (Krauth and Nash 2019: 283), and this is also often the case in research. Most arts-based research methods draw on forms of creative writing and/or the visual arts: drawing, painting, collage, photography and so on. Other art forms used as the basis for research include music, drama, textile arts and sculpture. Some commentators have suggested that this could equally well be called research-based art (Gergen and Gergen 2019: 54). Research and art are natural bedfellows in some ways, because the creative process works similarly for both (Edwards 2008: 96; Salvatore 2018: 267). But there are also tensions between them. For example, ‘truth’ in art is a link between a unique artwork and a recognisable aspect of the human condition, which is acknowledged by individual producers and consumers of art (for example, Edwards 2008: 111; Raingruber 2009: 261; Gabriel and Connell 2010: 517). The ‘truth’ in an artwork is not necessarily experienced in the same way by everyone, so this formulation presents truth as multiple and contestable. Conventionally, in research, ‘truth’ is a finding that can be replicated if the research is repeated. This depicts truth as a single, shareable and indisputable viewpoint. However, some researchers have been considering that truth may be as complex as artists suggest – multiple, partial, context dependent and contingent – and, so, best explored by ‘looking intensely from multiple perspectives’ (Sameshima and Vandermause 2009: 277), such as through multi-modal research.
Embodied research is research that overturns the conventional dominance of the mind in scholarly activity by acknowledging the role of the body. In so doing, it also negates the body/mind binary, because the mind – and the emotions and senses – are encompassed within and stem from the body. Embodiment researchers point out, quite reasonably, that none of us can do research without our body (Thanem and Knights 2019: 7), although for years Euro-Western researchers aspired to ‘disembodied research’ (Ellingson 2017: 6; Thanem and Knights 2019: 10). Yet, even in the most cerebral activities, such as computer-assisted data analysis, our fingers or voice are needed to operate the computer. Then, too, the researcher will make analytic choices in part as a result of physical sensation: the increase in muscle tension when something is interesting, the yawn when boredom strikes (Ellingson 2017: 156).
Embodied research spans a wide range of academic disciplines and research fields (Thanem and Knights 2019: 1). At present only some researchers acknowledge the role of their bodies, although all research has potential elements of embodiment (Ellingson 2017: 35). To date, embodied research often focuses on topics where embodied knowledge is highly relevant, such as pregnancy and childbirth (Oparah et al 2012), cancer survivorship (Ellingson 2017: 102) or the performing arts (Snowber 2019: 252). Yet, an embodied perspective is potentially relevant to any research topic.
As the discussion of informal research in Chapter 1 suggested, physical and emotional data processing is a constant and inescapable part of our lives. This is becoming more widely recognised, with more researchers privileging the informal research of their embodied experience and using their own sensory data as the starting point for creative investigation of a wide range of subjects, such as dance (Barbour 2012) and emotion (Stewart 2012). Other researchers take a different approach, applying the concepts of embodied research more formally to topics that do not focus directly on the body or aspects of the body (Vacchelli 2018: 49).
However, embodied research – like all research – has its challenges. For example, researchers’ own embodiment can lead us into experiences that may at times be disorienting, even disturbing (Pink 2015: 52). Also, it takes effort and time to come to understand our own ‘sensorium’, let alone those of others (Pink 2015: 60). Data gathering may be particularly complex if there is a need to disentangle a participant’s embodied responses in the moment from their account of past embodied experiences (Chadwick 2017: 56). Then, too, there are challenges from potential audiences who may, for example, see embodied research as self-interested and apolitical (Thanem and Knights 2019: 9).
Specific types of embodied research methods are beginning to develop, such as sensory ethnography (Pink 2015: 28). Also, embodied research can be used in conjunction with other creative approaches, such as arts-based research (Vacchelli 2018: 37). These kinds of distinctions and connections are likely to increase over time.
Research using technology includes internet-mediated research, such as research through social media, as well as research supported by other kinds of technology, such as mobile devices or apps. Some technology is devised specifically for research purposes. This includes various types of data analysis software, such as SPSS (Statistical Package for Social Scientists) for quantitative data or NVivo for qualitative data; the online research management and sharing program Mendeley; or dedicated online survey providers such as SurveyMonkey®. It also includes more creative options such as the ‘provocatype’ (Bowles 2018: 24), a one-off artefact intended to act as a ‘research probe’ by stimulating discussion about how design choices might interact with individuals and communities in an imagined future (Bowles 2018: 24). Researchers also use technology devised for non-research purposes, such as e-mail for communicating with a team of co-researchers, a spreadsheet program for managing questionnaire data or Twitter for gathering data from all over the world.
Technology itself has an influence on people’s creativity, yet the role of technology in the creative process has not yet been fully understood or theorised (Gangadharbatla 2010: 225). Also, technology is one topic in which students are often ahead of their teachers (Paulus et al 2013: 639). Research using technology is a very fast-moving field. This poses an authorial dilemma because, on the one hand, it is not realistic to leave this topic out of a book on creative research methods but, on the other hand, writing about technology is likely to be out of date by the time it reaches readers. This book addresses that dilemma by focusing primarily on the more creative uses of technology in research, rather than, for example, rehearsing the pros and cons of different types of software or hardware.
The rapid development of technologies can be daunting for researchers. While some people are fluent in web scraping, algorithms, APIs (application programming interfaces), mash-ups, blog mining, apps and data visualisation, for others this is a foreign language. Unfamiliarity can be a deterrent; it can feel safer to stay in the well-trodden land of surveys, interviews and focus groups. But it may be reassuring to know that nobody can keep up with all the advances in technology. Even if you are a complete Luddite, I would recommend staying open to the possibilities that technology can offer your research. And you can learn one step at a time. Most researchers are happy to use e-mail, word processing and text messaging these days, and it is only one more step from there to using Skype, creating graphs from your data or tweeting. The more of this kind of thing you do, the more confident, knowledgeable and skilled you will become. Also, the great thing about using technology is that, if you get stuck, you can almost always find a solution online.
Multi-modal research involves combining different methods of data gathering and/or analysis, different types of recruitment or sampling, different theoretical and/or disciplinary perspectives and so on. It is often seen as particularly useful for investigating complex research questions (Box 2.1) (Koro-Ljungberg 2012: 814; Gidron 2013: 306).
Box 2.1: Multi-modal research by Mayoh et al
UK researchers Joanne Mayoh, Carol Bond and Les Todres conducted a multi-modal study of the experiences of UK adults with chronic health conditions who looked for health information online. This is a complex phenomenon, so the researchers decided to use several methods in an iterative design with the aim of ‘identifying and communicating both breadth and depth of information’ (Mayoh et al 2012: 22). As there was not much previous research in this area, the first phase of data gathering involved two questionnaires, mainly quantitative, to gather broad data about patients’ experiences of finding information and about the barriers perceived by non-users of the internet. The analysis of data from these questionnaires provided an appropriate focus for in-depth interviews, which could not have been achieved from the existing literature (Mayoh et al 2012: 27). Altogether, the findings gave a much clearer picture of the complex phenomenon of adults with chronic health conditions seeking health information online than could have been achieved using any single qualitative or quantitative research method (Mayoh et al 2012: 29).
Conventional research methods have been around for so long, and are so pervasive, that they can seem to be ‘right’ and ‘natural’ (Dark 2009: 176–7). However, for some researchers, conventional methods may fix and limit meaning in a reductive way, while creative methods can more accurately reflect the multiplicity of meanings that exist in social contexts (for example, Inckle 2010). This can lead to methods being creatively layered alongside each other to build a richer picture. For example, interviews have been enhanced by various other methods of data gathering, such as photographs in photo-elicitation (Smith et al 2012), diaries in diary interviews (Kenten 2010) and fixed-narrative and interactive developmental vignettes (Box 2.2) (Jenkins et al 2010). (There is more information about enhanced interviews in Chapter 6.) In each case, the researchers are confident that enhanced interviews produce richer and more insightful data than conventional interviews or the associated method(s) would do alone.
Box 2.2: Multi-modal research by Mannay
UK researcher Dawn Mannay combined interviews with photographs, mapping and collage production in her insider study of the experiences of mothers and daughters on a social housing estate. Mannay had six participants. Two were asked to take a set of photographs showing places and activities that had meaning for them; two were asked to draw maps of their physical and social environments; and two were asked to produce collages, using images and words from a range of sources, to give a visual representation of their world. Each visual output was used as a basis for an interview with its creator. For Mannay, these visual methods provided a useful way of ‘making the familiar strange’, which enabled her to gain a ‘more nuanced understanding of the mothers’ and daughters’ worlds’ (Mannay 2010: 100) than she could have done using interviews alone.
It could be argued that ethnographers are at the forefront of multi-layered methodologies. There are now many varieties of ethnography, including performative, institutional, collaborative, embodied, arts-based, participatory, virtual and narrative ethnography (Vannini 2013: 442) and sensory ethnography (Pink 2015). Ethnographers take the most eclectic approach to data gathering, using a wide range of sources, from ecstatic dance (Pickering 2009) to mobile phones with GPS (Global Positioning System) tracking technology (Christensen et al 2011: 233). Ethnographers also take a varied approach to presentation and dissemination, using methods such as publicly exhibited art installations (Degarrod 2013) and private film screenings (Franzen 2013: 422).
The same method can sometimes be used creatively at different stages of the research process. For example, vignettes have been used as part of data gathering (for example, Jenkins et al 2010), data analysis (for example, Benozzo 2011), and writing (for example, Inckle 2010) (see Chapter 6 for more on vignette methodologies).
Box 2.3: Creativity promoted by failure for McCormack et al
Even failure can promote creativity in research. UK researchers Mark McCormack, Adrian Adams and Eric Anderson were interested in how the lives of bisexual men were influenced by decreasing levels of homophobia. They obtained ethical approval to conduct in-depth face-to-face interviews with bisexual men in Los Angeles, New York and London, with participants being recruited online. However, this recruitment method proved both time consuming and ineffective; in two full days in Los Angeles the researchers managed to secure only two interviews. With time running out, they decided to try a rather drastic recruitment method. They went to Venice Beach, a crowded bohemian area of the city, and shouted to people in the street that they were looking for bisexual men to interview. Using this method, they were able to secure 14 interviews in five hours. They treated this as a pilot, and repeated the experiment in several other crowded urban spaces in each of the three cities, wearing cowboy hats, carrying brightly coloured clipboards and shouting, ‘Bisexual men, we’re paying $40 for academic research,’ at regular 20-second intervals (McCormack et al 2013: 233). Two of the three researchers did the shouting, while a third waited in a nearby location such as a cafe, ready to conduct interviews; they rotated roles throughout each day in the field. This proved a very successful recruitment strategy and they were able to secure an average of around three interviews per hour.
Conventional research aims to be value free, apparently without realising that this is in itself a value. Conventional research methods are often presented as usable, independent of context, despite being products of specific cultural contexts (Gobo 2011: 433). Creative ethical research turns this on its head by using transformative research frameworks, which are flexible enough to take account of relevant contextual factors. These frameworks are based on and intended to promote positive social values, such as equality and justice. Examples of these creative ethical research frameworks include emancipatory or activist research, feminist research, participatory research and queer research, known collectively as transformative research frameworks (Mertens 2010: 473). These will be discussed more fully in Chapter 3.
The categories of ‘arts-based’, ‘embodied’, ‘multi-modal’, ‘using technology’ and ‘transformative’ are not mutually exclusive. For example, multi-modal research may be conducted within a transformative framework (Sweetman et al 2010: 452). Transformative research may also be arts based (Box 2.4) (Blodgett et al 2013), and multi-modal research may use technology (Hesse-Biber and Griffin 2013: 43), as may embodied research (Jewitt and Mackley 2019: 90).
Box 2.4: Transformative, multi-modal, arts-based research by Blodgett et al
Amy Blodgett and her colleagues in Ontario, Canada, conducted participatory action research with a decolonising agenda in their investigation of the sport experiences of young Aboriginal athletes who were moving off reserves to take part in sport. Four academic researchers from Laurentian University in Ontario worked in partnership with three Aboriginal researchers from Wikwemikong Unceded Indian Reserve. The research team drew on the local and cultural knowledge and experience of the Aboriginal researchers and the methodological knowledge and experience of the academic researchers to ensure that the research was ‘culturally appropriate and methodologically sound’ (Blodgett et al 2013: 316). The research team decided that it would be culturally appropriate to use an arts-based method of gathering data, and chose mandala drawings because the circle is considered to be sacred in this Aboriginal culture. Participants were asked to begin by drawing a circle, and then to ‘reflect on their experiences relocating for sport and draw anything that comes to mind’ (Blodgett et al 2013: 319). Each mandala was used to facilitate an individual conversational interview, which respects the Aboriginal cultural tradition of storytelling. Both the creation of the mandalas and the conversational interviews framed participants as the experts on their experiences, which, together with the methods being culturally appropriate, speaks to the decolonising agenda. At the suggestion of the Aboriginal researchers, some of the findings were disseminated through the mandalas being printed on a community blanket and displayed publicly at the Wikwemikong Youth Centre. This enabled sport and recreation staff to use the mandalas as educational tools for young athletes considering moving off the reserve to take up sport opportunities – partly to explain what that experience is like and partly to encourage young people to pursue their dreams. Overall, the ‘knowledge production process ... reflected circular links between individuals and their community, as well as research and action’ (Blodgett et al 2013: 328).
Some transformative research is multi-modal, includes arts-based methods and uses technology. For example, Ashlee Cunsolo Willox, Sherilee Harper and Victoria Edge, conducting research into the impact of climate change with the Rigolet Inuit community in northern Labrador in Canada, gathered data through participatory digital storytelling together with concept mapping and interviews (Willox et al 2013: 132–3). This research will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 7.
Arts-based research in practice
As we have seen, a large proportion of creative research methods are arts based. Equally, a large proportion of the arts are research based. Research is a fundamental part of arts such as theatre and the performance arts (Kershaw and Nicholson 2011), scenography (McKinney and Iball 2011), fiction writing (Spencer 2013), creative non-fiction writing (Brien 2013) and poetry (Lasky 2013). Research in the arts can be conducted in many ways and for many reasons. For example, research can be conducted into the history and background of a general aspect of the arts (Davis et al 2011; Gale and Featherstone 2011) or of specific works of art (Patten 2007), in support of a work of art in progress (Hoffman 2003: 1; Atkinson 2010: 189; Coles 2013: 163) or to evaluate the audience’s response to a work of art (Atkinson 2009, cited in Dixon 2011: 55–9).
It is increasingly recognised that creative practice can be a form of research in itself (Sullivan 2009: 50; Hughes, Kidd and McNamara 2011; McNiff 2018: 24). Enquiry through creative practice privileges such things as play, intuition, serendipity, imagination and the unexpected as resources for making sense. Those engaged in creative enquiry have asked, ‘What are methods for, but to ruin our experiments?’ (Kershaw et al 2011: 65). There is increasing acceptance of the idea that artists can conduct research in the process of producing art, and that the resulting artwork can be a valid research output in itself by embodying and communicating the knowledge produced in its creation (Biggs 2009: 67). Art can contribute to research by being documented and theorised, and research, in turn, can inspire and contribute to art in an ‘iterative cyclic web’ (Smith and Dean 2009: 2). Perhaps, for these reasons, there is no agreed definition of ‘arts-based research’, although that may be more of a help than a hindrance, as it encourages us to take context and particularity into account (O’Donoghue 2015: 520). However, I am not trying to say that arts practice and research practice are entirely the same. The processes may look similar, but the practitioners’ intentions may be very different (Pool 2018: 13).
There is a vocal academic lobby suggesting that people who wish to use artistic techniques within their research should be as skilled in the arts that they wish to practice as they are in research techniques. It may seem difficult to compare skill levels across different disciplines, but arts practitioners have their own informal version of peer review (Smith and Dean 2009: 26). So, if a group of skilled musicians recognise someone else as a musician, then that person is a musician. ‘In the poetry world, many would be poets, but it is the domain itself and its tacit yet established rules of quality that move a person into being considered a poet by others’ (Piirto 1998, cited in Piirto 2009: 96). Jane Piirto, an American professor and award-winning poet and fiction writer, will permit her postgraduate students to incorporate art into their research projects only if they are either a professional artist in the relevant field or have studied the art concerned at undergraduate level, because ‘Then the art itself and its ways of knowing are respected’ (Piirto 2009: 97). This can be seen as a laudable attempt to ensure quality, and an understandable attempt to claim legitimacy for arts-based research, which is sometimes regarded as neither one thing nor another instead of being viewed as a helpful interdisciplinary step forward. However, Piirto’s approach could also be seen as a rather exclusive and excluding position. Also, we now know that professional-level arts outputs can distract from research findings (Bartlett 2015: 765).
The counter-argument suggests that arts-based methods can be used by any researcher as long as the methods are appropriate for the research and its context. For example, a researcher wanting to gather data from children could use the ‘draw and write’ method (Wetton and McWhirter 1998) without being a skilled draughtsperson (see Chapter 6 for more details of this method). Anyone can draw a picture, write a poem, make a collage – or, at least, they can ‘have a go’ (Pool 2018: 13). Creating a poor-quality artwork is not necessarily a failure, as there is scope for learning from the process; creativity involves taking risks, and some argue that failure lies in refusing to take those risks (Douglas 2012: 531; Gergen and Gergen 2012: 162). Indeed, everyone has the right to artistic activity, which is usefully experimental and promotes creative thought. Arts-based methods ‘have been used by a wide variety of researchers and professionals to assist people in expressing feelings and thoughts that ... are difficult to articulate in words’ (Blodgett et al 2013: 313). And there is no reason why people cannot learn to make art in practice while they learn to make research in practice, thereby using more of their potential (Douglas 2012: 529; Gergen and Gergen 2012: 163; Leavy 2018a: 11). This is a more inclusive position, but, as with any research methods, it is important to ensure that all aspects of the research are conducted to a high level of quality (see Chapter 5 for more on quality in research).
If researchers think that it would help, they may choose to undertake some training in an arts-based technique (Blodgett et al 2013: 317), although whether this is appropriate depends on the project and its context. Equally, it can be appropriate for some researchers to choose not to undergo training, because a researcher who is trained in an arts-based technique may be more likely, whether consciously or unconsciously, to influence the arts-based outputs of their participants (Willox et al 2013: 132). Also, the aim of using arts techniques in research is different from using them in the arts, as research quality is more important than aesthetic quality (Phillips and Kara, in press).
Another option for researchers wishing to use arts-based methods and who have little or no expertise or skill in the method concerned is to bring an arts professional onto the research team to provide advice and support. I have done this effectively and successfully in research projects with young people who wanted to present their work through drama. There is an argument that drama is one of the most complex art forms, and, without some training in and understanding of its mechanics, it is very difficult to produce good work (Salvatore 2018: 286). I have no background in theatre, so I brought in a drama professional who was experienced in working with young people and was willing to join the research team. I was responsible for ensuring the quality of the research; the drama professional was responsible for ensuring the quality of the drama. This perhaps offers a middle way between the academics who seek to ensure quality through artistic skill and the researchers who seek to use the methods most likely to help them answer their research questions.
Arts-based techniques are particularly useful for gathering and disseminating data. They also have applications in data analysis, writing and presentation (Box 2.5). These will be discussed in more detail, and examples given, in the following chapters. While this is not an exhaustive list, arts-based techniques can be particularly helpful for:
•exploring sensitive topics;
•working with participants whose native language is different from the language in which the research is being conducted;
•working with people who speak different languages from each other;
•working with people who have cognitive impairments such as mild dementia;
•working with children;
•honouring, eliciting and expressing cultural ways of knowing.
Box 2.5: Arts-based life-story research by O’Neill
UK researcher Maggie O’Neill works with transnational refugees and asylum seekers ‘in the space between ethnography and art’ (O’Neill 2008: 3). She collaborates with her participants, who come from countries such as Afghanistan and Bosnia, and with a variety of professional artists including writers, poets, photographers and performance artists. The aim is to enable refugees and asylum seekers to tell their own stories and to use these stories to inform theory, policy and practice. O’Neill’s view is that life stories, art and collaboration are all transformative – that is, they can challenge stereotypical perceptions and received wisdom. She writes: ‘Art makes visible experiences, hopes, ideas; it is a reflective space and socially it brings something new into the world – it contributes to knowledge and understanding’ (O’Neill 2008: 8).
Arts-based research is often particularly useful for investigating topics associated with high levels of emotion (Prendergast 2009a: xxii–xxiii). Emotion is linked with creativity, and some specific emotions, such as happiness and sadness, have been found to promote creativity (Hutton and Sundar 2010: 301). Happiness encourages creativity in general, while sadness promotes analytical thought, which also supports creativity (Hutton and Sundar 2010: 301). This may go some way towards explaining why a lot of autoethnographic studies focus on sad subjects such as serious illness, grief, bereavement and trauma (Pelias 2019: 25–6; see also Stone 2009; Sliep 2012).
Embodied research can be seen as a reaction to the ‘disembodied methodologies’ (Ellingson 2017: 6; Thanem and Knights 2019: 10), such as positivism, that dominated Euro-Western research in the 20th century. Thanem and Knights examined 20 methods and methodology books, running to over 8,000 pages in total, and found only 20 references to the body or embodiment (Thanem and Knights 2019: 13). Even authors who make a point of championing reflexivity express it as a primarily cognitive exercise, sometimes with a side order of emotion, but no acknowledgement of the body and its role (Thanem and Knights 2019: 12–13).
Nevertheless, we all experience the world through our bodies, and acknowledging this ‘brings new conceptual lenses to research practices’ (Lala and Kinsella 2011: 78). However, researchers using embodied methods may or may not focus on their own bodies. Some do – for example, Jonas Larsen (2014: 64) in his autoethnographic study of cycling in Copenhagen and London. Others focus primarily on participants’ bodies, particularly where there is an evident bodily dimension, as in much of disability studies, sports studies or fat studies, to give just three examples. And others still apply the techniques of embodied research to address questions where bodies are not the main focus, for example, Elena Vacchelli (2018: 49) in her research with migrants.
Box 2.6: Embodied research by Finlay
Integrative psychotherapist and phenomenological researcher Linda Finlay drew on her therapeutic skills to focus on her own body and those of her research participants in an ‘embodied intersubjective relationship’ (Finlay 2014: 5). She argues that this relationship can be used to explore participants’ experiences and lifeworlds. For Finlay, ‘the body acts as a sensor, a detector of meaning which helps us empathize with, interpret and understand participants’ experiences. If we’re alert, physical sensations and our own felt-sense arising out of the relational space between can provide crucial cues’ (Finlay 2014: 6; original emphasis). When we try to understand others, Finlay says, we use our senses in a holistic and interconnected way: sight, hearing, smell, touch, and our mental and emotional senses too, including forethought and intuition. Because of the intertwining and mirroring we experience in relation to others (touch between people is simultaneous), we come to understand ourselves through the gaze of others: we experience a ‘somatic duet’ between ourselves and our participants (Finlay 2014: 7).
Laura Ellingson (2017: 7–8) sets out what she regards as the benefits of practising embodied research.
•It enables learning about topics that cannot otherwise be known.
•It opens up new possibilities for analysis and representation.
•Attention to embodiment can help to validate research in innovative ways.
•Messages of embodiment, or embodied messages, can be more accessible, engaging and memorable for audiences.
Research explicitly using embodied methods has been criticised on various grounds such as being apolitical, narcissistic and self-interested (Thanem and Knights 2019: 9). Yet, in one sense all research that people do always has been and always will be embodied. Nevertheless, in any given research project the extent to which researchers engage with embodiment may vary. It is certainly the case with embodied methods, as with all creative research methods, that good research practice should be maintained throughout. Among other things, this means making an appropriate decision about whether – and, if so, when and how much – to focus on embodiment.
Multi-modal research in practice
Multi-modal research has increased in popularity since the late 1980s (Alasuutari 2009: 139). The term ‘multi-modal research’ covers a whole host of different approaches to the research process, which may contain both qualitative and quantitative elements. It can also be used to describe qualitative or quantitative research using more than one method (Frost et al 2010; Fielding 2012: 125; Lal et al 2012). The most common ‘mixed-methods’ research involves data gathered by more than one technique, usually questionnaires and interviews (Fielding 2012: 131). As several examples in this book show, multi-modal research can be much more complex (for example, Boxes 2.7 and 2.8).
Box 2.7: Multi-modal research by Petros
Sabela Petros studied the support needs of older South African people who care for children or grandchildren affected by HIV/AIDS. He and his colleagues surveyed 305 urban and rural carers of people living with HIV/AIDS and/or vulnerable orphaned children. They then conducted interviews with ten respondents, purposively selected because they fulfilled two conditions: (a) they had given responses to the survey that the researchers had not anticipated, and (b) they were caring for both adults with HIV/AIDS and vulnerable orphaned children. The data from these interviews was later used to construct case studies. Petros also interviewed nine purposively selected ‘key informants’ (Petros 2012: 279) – senior managers, six from the government and three from NGOs – to find out about legislation and policy on HIV/AIDS. The datasets were analysed separately before being compared to assess the level of corroborated or divergent findings, which helped to contextualise the carers’ experiences. This was the first multi-modal study of this topic in South Africa, and it enabled a number of new comparisons, including differences between urban and rural areas, and differences between carers’ and officials’ views of the situation, as well as the identification of gaps in public policy and ways in which these could be remedied (Petros 2012: 290–1).
It is also possible to combine methods in other ways, such as by conducting research that draws on more than one theoretical perspective (for example, Kaufman 2010; Macmillan 2011), or that has a team of researchers from different disciplines (for example, Sameshima and Vandermause 2009) or that analyses data in more than one way (for example, Frost et al 2010). Presentation and dissemination of research often uses more than one method.
Box 2.8: Multi-modal research by Robinson et al
Andrew Robinson and his colleagues in Australia conducted a complex piece of dementia research using a multi-modal approach. They involved patients with dementia and their family carers, gathered qualitative and quantitative data in nine different ways and worked to integrate the findings from their analysis. The research team included expertise from the fields of arts and humanities, science and neuroscience, psychology and neuropsychology, nursing, social work, counselling and education. ‘These fields span both qualitative and quantitative research traditions – we found this essential for informed decision making and functioning in all stages of our mixed methods research’ (Robinson et al 2011: 335).
The point of combining qualitative and quantitative methods is that they offer us different ways to understand the world. Quantitative methods show us how much, what, when and where, based on a theory of normality and difference: is this within the curve or outside it? Qualitative methods show us why and how, based on a theory of interactions, events and processes. But multi-modal research is not inherently ‘better’ than single-method research. As always, it depends on the research question and its context. For some questions, in some contexts, only a single method will be necessary to find an adequate answer. Other questions, in other contexts, can be fully addressed only through a multi-modal approach.
One technique for combining qualitative methods is known as ‘bricolage’, from the French word meaning to make something using whatever materials are to hand. In research terms, this means drawing on theory from any discipline or disciplines, using a combination of data-gathering methods and analytic techniques and taking a similarly eclectic approach to the presentation and dissemination of research (Kincheloe 2005: 323–4). The researcher as ‘bricoleur’ can focus on the methods or techniques they prefer, or those that they feel are best suited to their research (Broussine 2008: 79). While some find this too haphazard, advocates of bricolage suggest that it provides more opportunities for sense making than other methods (Warne and McAndrew 2009: 857), perhaps because the researcher is not fettered by a particular method or approach. It may also be because the technique of bricolage is closer to the approach that an artist might use than to that which a scientist might use, offering more scope for creativity, as well as the chance to ‘make for making sense’. Indeed, scholars writing of bricolage often use arts-based metaphors like weaving, collage or patchwork (Wibberley 2012: 6) (Box 2.9).
Box 2.9: Remix in research by Markham
US researcher Annette Markham built on the concept of bricolage to develop the technique of ‘remix’. She uses this in cross-disciplinary workshops with scholars who work online and are new to qualitative research, to help them explore creative approaches to research. There are five elements to Markham’s conceptualisation of remix.
•Generate – expanding your perception of data beyond what you purposefully gather to include field notes, early drafts, doodles, photos, uncoded transcripts, coded transcripts and so on, any of which may trigger useful ‘connections among ideas’ in a ‘wonderful chaos of inquiry’ (Markham 2013a: 74).
•Play – either guided/rule driven or free form and open, but always using your curiosity and imagination to drive exploration and experimentation.
•Borrow – ideas, approaches, perspectives, techniques and so on – from other researchers, disciplines and professions.
•Move – whether forward or backward, leading or following, move and allow yourself to be moved, maintaining awareness that research is ‘always situated, but never motionless’ (Markham 2013a: 77).
•Interrogate – constantly questioning data, literature, context, power, your own motivation and so on, and all aspects of the research project and the subject under investigation.
Markham writes, ‘The concept of remix highlights activities that are not often discussed as a part of method and may not be noticed, such as using serendipity, playing with different perspectives, generating partial renderings, moving through multiple variations, borrowing from disparate and perhaps disjunctive concepts, and so forth’ (Markham 2013a: 65). Remix also implies creative reassembly of these disparate parts, although that may or may not lead to a cohesive final output; it may simply create a new connection between two hitherto unconnected elements. The process focuses on meaning, rather than method as such, so its marker of quality is the extent to which its results have resonance with their audiences.
In combining quantitative and qualitative methods, some researchers embed qualitative methods within a quantitative framework, and some do the opposite (Plano Clark et al 2013: 220). Even some of the most reified conventional methods, such as randomised controlled trials, are now being redesigned in some contexts to incorporate, or be incorporated into, multi-modal designs (Hesse-Biber 2012: 876) (Box 2.10).
Box 2.10: Multi-modal research by Robinson and Mendelson
Sue Robinson and Andrew Mendelson, at the University of Wisconsin–Madison in the US, studied the way photographs and text interacted for readers of a non-fiction magazine article. Their research embedded qualitative methods within a quantitative framework. For data gathering they used pre- and post-test surveys including open-ended questions and a two-stage test involving a randomised experimental stage, and then a focus-group stage. In the experimental stage participants read one of three versions of the article: text only, photos only or text and photos. Each focus group contained participants who had all read the same version of the article. For data analysis, Robinson and Mendelson used inferential statistics, frequencies and textual analysis for the surveys; discourse analysis and inferential statistics for the experimental conditions; and narrative, discourse, textual or content analysis for the focus groups. This enabled them to elicit rich information about the meanings constructed by participants from their readings of the article, and also to compare the ways in which those meanings changed between the different types of media (Robinson and Mendelson 2012: 341).
Quantitative methods can be embedded within a qualitative framework using the technique of quantitisation, where aspects of qualitative data are converted into numbers for analysis. There are a variety of methods for this, including:
•counting, for example, how many participants said X and how many said Y;
•dichotomising, that is, identifying whether a participant did or did not say anything within a particular theme;
•frequencies, for example, which code was used most frequently and which least often;
•statistical analysis, which can ‘highlight patterns and relationships between groups of participants, thus helping researchers identify meaningful comparisons between contrasting cases (for example, participants, social contexts, and events)’ (Collingridge 2013: 82).
It is possible to combine other aspects of research, such as theories or disciplinary perspectives. Some researchers are working towards ‘integrated methods’, where many different aspects and viewpoints are brought together (Box 2.11).
Box 2.11: Integrated methods by Franz et al
Psychologists Anke Franz and Marcia Worrell from the UK, and Claus Vögele from Luxembourg, studied adolescent sexual behaviour in Germany and England. These multiple investigators drew on multiple theories to underpin their use of mixed methods of data gathering, which led to multiple datasets. They used Q methodology, questionnaires and measurement scales to investigate teenage sexual health, discourses about gender roles, sexual assertiveness and sexual self-efficacy. Data was at first analysed separately for each method of gathering data, then the findings were integrated ‘to provide a holistic explanation of cultural and individual influences on adolescent behaviour’ (Franz et al 2013: 383). This enabled more robust conclusions than the initial separate analyses because ‘The quantitative part could not explain the influence of discourses on young people’s behaviour, whereas the discourse research could not make inferences about the relationship of the discourses to individual characteristics’ (Franz et al 2013: 383–4). Essentially, integrating their methods allowed Franz and her colleagues to gain a more complete picture of a very complex situation.
Multi-modal research can be challenging (Hemmings et al 2013: 261–2). Joseph Teye, from his doctoral analysis of the formulation and implementation of forest policy in Ghana, identified a number of challenges. These include the following.
•Choice of sample size: quantitative researchers prefer large samples, while qualitative researchers are happy to work with a few participants in detail; this may be why the iterative approach of gathering and analysing quantitative data, then using the findings to inform qualitative investigation, is so popular.
•Mission creep: the scope of the research can end up being wider than originally planned, as new information is brought to light that is difficult or impossible to ignore; this can lead to more data being gathered than was at first envisaged, which then leads to the data analysis being more time consuming than expected.
•Resource constraints: using more than one method, for example, for data gathering and/or data analysis, takes more time and expertise than using a single method.
•Difficulty prioritising research methods: prioritisation can be dictated by mission creep or resource constraints or both, rather than by the researcher’s plans; it is hard to give equal priority to both or all methods used.
•Conflicts in data interpretation: these can happen particularly between qualitative and quantitative analyses.
•Difficulty integrating findings: this applies to analysis and reporting, and there are a range of views about the benefits or disadvantages of integrating findings at either stage or both, which means that no researcher’s solution is likely to please all their readers.
•Managing power relations: gathering data from different groups of participants can mean the researcher has to adapt quickly to changing power relations (Teye 2012: 385–8).
Box 2.12: Researching the researchers by Lunde et al
Åshild Lunde and her colleagues in Norway set out to investigate an interdisciplinary research project on knee injuries in athletes. The original research team involved researchers from different academic disciplines, including physiology and phenomenology, and physiotherapy practitioners. They gathered quantitative data about the nature and extent of knee injuries in athletes, and qualitative data about athletes’ experiences of knee injuries. The intention was to integrate these datasets, with the overall aim of predicting the outcome of rehabilitation. However, despite being highly skilled and motivated, making careful plans and trying hard, the original researchers found it impossible to integrate the datasets. The research funders decided to commission some more interpretive work from external researchers to investigate the barriers to integration. Lunde and her colleagues took on this investigation and identified a number of barriers, including different views about what constitutes good-quality research, and lack of strong project leadership to help reconcile these views. Perhaps more importantly, the findings from the qualitative and quantitative datasets contradicted each other. These contradictions could have been used as a resource for the research, in the form of a springboard for further exploration, but instead they were seen as an obstacle. Lunde et al (2013: 206) stress that this is not ‘the typical narrative of expressed prejudice and hostility between quantitative and qualitative researchers’ and that considerable collaborative efforts were made. However, the desired middle ground was not reached, perhaps because the process of reaching that middle ground would have compromised the professional identity of all researchers. There was not enough ‘external force’ or ‘internal drive’ to make this happen (Lunde et al 2013: 209), so the disciplinary status quo was maintained.
It does appear that most difficulties in multi-modal research occur when disciplines collide (Hemmings et al 2013: 262). Some researchers advocate a ‘qualitatively driven mixed-methods approach’ that is not intended to privilege qualitative over quantitative research, but to ensure a good level of interpretation (Creswell 2006, cited in Hall and Ryan 2011: 106–7). Given the findings of Lunde et al, combined with evidence that some quantitative researchers are not highly skilled in interpretation (for example, Laux and Pont 2012: 3), this would seem worthy of consideration. Either way, for good-quality and consistent multi-modal research it is important to plan which methods to use from the start, within an appropriate theoretical and methodological framework for clarity about why and how you will use those methods, rather than adding methods or devising a framework as you go along (Franz et al 2013: 386).
There are a huge number of examples of multi-modal research in the literature, and only a tiny fraction can be represented here.
Research using technology in practice
Technology can be used to support and enhance all stages of the research process. It is most commonly invoked for data gathering, transcription and analysis. For example, data can be speedily and effectively gathered online using a dedicated program such as SurveyMonkey® or by trawling social media platforms such as Twitter or Pinterest. Audio recorders can be used to record data from interviews and focus groups, and to play it back for transcription, which can be done straight into a computer by typing on a keyboard. There are a number of software packages to help with data analysis, such as SPSS for quantitative data, and NVivo for qualitative data. However, technology can also support other parts of the research process, such as dialogue, literature reviews, collaboration, co-authorship, representation of findings, ethics and reflexivity (Paulus et al 2013: 639; Barnes and Netolicky 2019: 382).
Many ethnographers have embraced the possibilities offered by technology, both for use within conventional ethnographic studies and to shift the boundaries of ethnography itself (van Doorn 2013: 392) (for example, Box 2.13).
Box 2.13: Compressed ethnography by Pope
Technology enabled New Zealand researcher Clive Pope to create a ‘compressed ethnography’ (Jeffrey and Troman 2004, cited in Pope 2010: 134) of the Maadi Regatta. This is New Zealand’s primary rowing competition, a seven-day regatta with hundreds of races. Due to the time-bounded nature of this event, Pope could not conduct a conventional ethnography, using participant observation over an extended period of time. Instead, he ‘spent 10 days and nights at the regatta site, living the everyday life of rower and rowing’ (Pope 2010: 133). This was an intense experience that did not allow for full understanding at the time, so Pope used digital photography and video to record parts of the regatta for later consideration. These enabled him to ‘rewind, revisit and reframe the setting, repeatedly seeking new learnings and understandings’ that ‘replaced the inductive and emerging discoveries that often evolve in situ during prolonged conventional ethnographies’ (Pope 2010: 135).
Doing research online can seem like a great idea in certain circumstances. For example, some geographically dispersed communities, such as distance learners and expatriates, come together in online environments. This can make it seem very appealing to study members of those communities in virtual locations (Lewis and McNaughton Nicholls 2014: 60), whether through observing them at their usual locations or by consensual interaction at a dedicated location such as a chat room or forum set up specifically for research. There are logistical advantages for the researcher: for example, you don’t have to go anywhere, and your data can simply be copied and pasted from the web. This is economical in time and cost, and can make the prospect of doing research online almost too tempting to resist.
However, it is also important to identify and address the limitations of doing research online, and the challenges it may present (Ignacio 2012: 239; Lewis and McNaughton Nicholls 2014: 58; Quinton and Reynolds 2018: 211). The following are a few of those challenges and limitations.
•Technical skills: the researcher may need a certain level of technical skill, or help from someone who has that level of skill, for example, to create a forum, or to make a web page of information about the research to use in seeking informed consent from potential participants.
•Sampling: research online throws up all sorts of problems with sampling, for various reasons – for example, that not everyone has access to online environments, or that the identity of online participants may be wholly or partly concealed, which can make it difficult to fill quotas. (This also, of course, applies to offline research, but in different ways; for example, people in some online environments routinely use misleading avatars – symbols denoting the presence online of a human – and pseudonyms.)
•Quality of data: data gathered online may not be as rich, detailed or multidimensional as data gathered in other arenas. Even ‘big data’, which can appeal because it is so plentiful, may not be good quality.
•Text from web pages: researching online text can be challenging because it is subject to change or deletion. Also, it is necessary to decide what to do with links from the researched pages: should those links also be followed and researched? And what if there are further links from the resulting pages? Screenshots can be used to preserve text from web pages, but they don’t enable the use of embedded links. The Wayback Machine (https://archive.org/web/) can be helpful here, but it doesn’t archive everything, although it does enable you to archive web pages of interest.
•Dissension in online communities: this may be caused by a researcher’s intervention into such a community. Even if it is not, members of that community may see any dissension as caused by research activity. Either way, apologies and other damage-limitation exercises are necessary.
This is not presented as an exhaustive list, but as an illustration of the need to think carefully when considering the option of doing research online. It is not simply a case of transferring offline methods to an online environment (Markham 2013b: 435). Even with questionnaires, working online offers far more flexibility than hard copy. For example, there is no need for standard formulations such as, ‘If yes, please continue with the next question; if no, please go straight to question 8’. An online questionnaire can be designed to take respondents to the next question that is relevant for them, depending on their answer to the current question. Therefore, there can be a variety of routes through an online questionnaire, which makes online questionnaire design even more complex than the offline equivalent. With qualitative methods the complexity increases, such that any researcher will need to think very carefully through all the ramifications and implications of attempting to use these methods online. For some projects a multi-modal approach, combining online and offline methods, may be best (Ignacio 2012: 244).
Smartphones offer audio and video recording and editing tools and distribution facilities (Pool 2018: 13). As a result, creatively producing and sharing media has become an everyday practice for many people, which can be very useful for researchers. From these few examples alone it is evident that advances in technology enable researchers’ methods and practices to change and develop. Our methods help to produce our reality (Law 2004: 5), and our reality also helps to produce our methods.
Autoethnography is ‘an approach to research and writing that seeks to describe and systematically analyze personal experience in order to understand cultural experience’ (Ellis et al 2011: 1). It was devised by US ethnographer Carolyn Ellis in the 1990s (Gergen and Gergen 2012: 44). ‘Auto’ comes from the Greek word for ‘self ’, ‘ethno’ from the Greek for ‘folk’ or ‘people’ and ‘graphy’ from the Greek for ‘write’. Autoethnography has huge potential for creativity, but this is not just a case of writing down your life experiences in a clever way. Autoethnographers tend to focus on specific and intense experiences such as crises and major life events, and to link them with their cultural location and identity (Ellis et al 2011: 4). Literary conventions of autoethnography link life experiences with wider concerns such as ethnicity, gender, social class and key reference points in time (Denzin 2014: 7–8), as well as with relationships, the past, cultural themes, social constructs and theory (Chang 2008: 132–7). Autoethnography ‘transcends mere narration of self to engage in cultural analysis and interpretation’ (Chang 2008: 43).
Like any research method, autoethnography needs to be linked with theory and practice or policy, although at times it can be hard to see how that could be achieved. This has led to claims that autoethnography is self-indulgent, irrelevant and unacademic (Denzin 2014: 69–70; Forber-Pratt 2015: 822). These claims are usually based on critiques that compare autoethnography with conventional ethnography, wider social science or arts disciplines and find it wanting (Ellis et al 2011: 10–11). Those who assess autoethnography in its own terms are more likely to assert that it can be a truly scholarly practice, and some have demonstrated its impact on practice and policy (Chang 2008: 52–4; Lenza 2011). However, this is all culturally specific to Euro-Western settings, and autoethnography can be even more challenging in parts of the global South (Zapata-Sepúlveda 2016b: 472).
Autoethnography has been used to focus on a diverse range of topics, such as: the emotional aspects of a teacher’s return to learning (Benozzo 2011), anorexia and psychosis (Stone 2009), cross-cultural performance (Fournillier 2010) and outward-bound activities (Tolich 2012). Autoethnography can be used by a single researcher or collaboratively (Dumitrica and Gaden 2009: 2). Also, it can be used as a stand-alone method or as part of a multi-modal study (Leavy 2009: 38). Writing is an art (Adams and Holman Jones 2018: 141), and autoethnographers often incorporate techniques such as poetry, photography and creative fiction to ‘produce aesthetic and evocative thick descriptions of personal and interpersonal experience’ (Ellis et al 2011: 5). The aim is to produce ‘accessible texts’ that ‘make personal experience meaningful and cultural experience engaging’ (Ellis et al 2011: 5) (for example, Box 2.14). For example, one classic autoethnographic textbook is written as a ‘methodological novel’ (Ellis 2004) and another is written as the story of a fictional workshop (Bochner and Ellis 2016).
Box 2.14: Autoethnography, memoir and travelogue by Cho
Grace Cho, a Korean immigrant living in the US, combined memoir and travelogue with autoethnography in Samgwangsa (the name of a temple in Busan, South Korea). She investigates the impact of displacement on herself and her family, focusing on concepts such as home, freedom, health, mobility and the American dream (Cho 2015: 59). Cho narrates the longing to return to Korea that she shared with her mother, and her attempts to return with her mother. Her poignant account questions what brings families together and what keeps them apart, what creates closeness and what creates distance.
Autoethnographic methods can also use technology (Box 2.15).
Box 2.15: Collaborative online autoethnography by Dumitrica and Gaden
Delia Dumitrica and Georgia Gaden, from the University of Calgary, Canada, spent six months collaborating on an autoethnographic project investigating ways in which gender is perceived and performed in Second Life (SL), a huge online virtual world that has tens of thousands of users at any one time. The researchers became interested in SL at an academic conference, joined SL at the same time and spent a month exploring as individuals before joining up to explore the virtual world together. Both researchers are female, but one chose a male avatar. They both experienced technical problems, which led to frustration and even despair at times, but they were able to overcome these sufficiently to complete their fieldwork. They gathered data in the form of field journals, which they reread closely and discussed at length. ‘The collaborative dimension furthered our critical self-reflexive process by allowing us to explore and compare each other’s understanding and performance of gender in the virtual world’ (Dumitrica and Gaden 2009: 8). This method enabled the researchers to take an analytical and critical approach to their research questions and to conclude that ‘How gender is “done” in SL resides not only at the intersection between our own gendered perspectives and the platform, but also in the technical skills we have’ (Dumitrica and Gaden 2009: 19).
Dumitrica and Gaden’s work demonstrates that, despite ‘auto’ meaning ‘self ’, autoethnography may also be collaborative. Indeed, collaborative autoethnography can overcome some of the methodological and ethical difficulties faced by solo researchers. For example, it can introduce more rigour through multiple perspectives that help to reduce bias and enrich analysis and interpretation (Lapadat 2017: 598).
All research is creative, at all stages of the process (Leavy 2009: ix; Saldaña 2015: 122). Creative methods are intended to extend, not replace, the tools in the researcher’s toolbox. However, creative research methods, as discussed in this book, may be particularly useful in addressing the kinds of complex contemporary research questions that conventional research methods are not able to answer (Taber 2010: 5). Also, creative research methods can be exciting and inspiring. One word of caution, though: the method(s) you use must flow from your research question, and not the other way around.
This chapter has focused mostly on methods. The next will discuss some methodologies. (See Chapter 1 if you are unclear about the distinction between methodology and method.)
1.What skills do you have? How might they link with and contribute to your research work?
2.What do you find most interesting in the world? Can you formulate a research question from that topic? (Don’t worry about whether the research would be possible or practical to do. Formulating a research question can be a useful exercise in itself.)
3.Where do you stand on the spectrum from ‘disembodied’ to ‘embodied’ research? When and why might you change your position?
4.Can you think of a research project that could be addressed using a multi-modal design involving arts-based methods and using technology? (Again, this doesn’t have to be a ‘good’ or even a possible project.)
5.If you began some autoethnographic work, which aspect of your life would you focus on?
