Envisioning a Better Design Education: How Language Can Invite or Discourage Collaboration Angela L. Dow, Kendall College of Art and Design of Ferris State University, Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA

Susanna Kelly Engbers, Kendall College of Art and Design of Ferris State University, Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA

Abstract The possibilities for collaboration among faculty teaching in various disciplines in an art and design college are often limited by the language we use to analyze, create, and discuss our work. Although there may, in fact, be a great deal of overlap, our language sometimes obscures rather than clarifies the possibility of productive and fruitful overlap. Our paper—itself the fruit of a collaboration between a professor of graphic design and a professor of English—discusses the ways in which various constituent groups at our college talk about visuals (e.g., logos, advertisements, interiors, photographs, illustrations, etc), noting the ways in which our language limits cross-disciplinary critique and collaboration and suggesting ways in which it might be more inclusive and encouraging of both. We share the results of our surveys and interviews with members of our faculty from diverse disciplines in design, fine art, art history, art education, and general education. Using the rhetorical triangle as a tool, we then consider the implications that our results have for improving interdisciplinary dialogue among faculty at the college as well as for improving our students’ educational experiences across the curriculum so that we may better prepare them for an increasingly collaborative work environment and world.

Keywords Design Education, Rhetoric, Collaboration, Interdisciplinarity, Language

Introduction The authors of this paper are faculty members at a small college in the Midwest United States offering undergraduate BFA and BS degrees in 17 art and design disciplines, as well as an MFA in four concentrations and a Masters of Art Education. Coming from the fields of Graphic Design and Rhetoric and Composition, we have worked on various committees together to help to shape the college and its curriculum and have had many discussions and even “big debates” over the years about what we teach, how we teach, and the commonalities and differences between our two disciplines as well as among others across the college.

One theme that has emerged over the course of these conversations was the different ways in which each discipline uses language to discuss, analyze, apply, or create visual objects. After all, most instructors from across our institution—whether they teach graphic design, painting, photography, art history, interior design, visual rhetoric, aesthetics, etc—spend a great deal of time talking about visuals. That led us to wonder: Even though all major disciplines at our institution engage with visual objects, does the fact that we all have our own discipline-specific vocabulary stand in the way of valuable experiences in cross-disciplinary collaboration among both students and faculty?

The Emphasis on Collaboration at our College Institutionally, our college believes in collaboration and goes so far as to reference it in our mission, vision, and core values statements. The college has supported the development of courses and even a standalone program around the ideal of multiple disciplines working together to solve complex problems and create innovative solutions through art and design. Our mission states that we “provide an innovative, collaborative education,” and part of our vision statement is that we be “recognized for encouragement of, and opportunity for, collaboration across disciplines and throughout the college.” In our conversations, however, we found this ideal of collaboration to be the exception rather than the rule, and we wondered what factors had hindered cross-disciplinary collaboration—among studio majors and, particularly, between studio and general education courses—as well as what factors might invite collaboration more often.

As a professor of graphic design, who has had experience running interdisciplinary projects over the years and who researched interdisciplinary collaboration extensively for her graduate thesis ten years ago, Dow has learned and seen firsthand that one of the keys to effective collaboration is communication, and in her experience, this is the main area in which students, and even faculty, struggle. We often haven’t been taught how to collaborate or communicate with other disciplines, nor have we been encouraged to get outside of our disciplines to work with other artists and designers and learn how to communicate better through direct experience. One example of this came up in a survey of graphic design and interior design students that Dow conducted after the students had completed an assigned interdisciplinary project. Students that were placed in cross-disciplinary teams were asked what they felt were the worst things about the project, and the most common answers were unreliable group members, wasted time, and miscommunication.

And as a faculty member in rhetoric and composition, Engbers is always working in classrooms that are “collaborative experiences,” because her classes include students from many majors. So throughout the ten years she has been teaching at the college, she has sought ways to bring students into fuller and richer conversations with one another. In any of the classes that she teaches—whether it’s writing, visual rhetoric, or literature—she tries to find common ground through the ideas, images, and activities used. She attempts to bring students together in conversations that ask them to draw from their disciplinary expertise and apply it to a wider conversation about visual texts, narratives, or other suitable areas of common inquiry for artists and designers of various sorts. But Engbers frequently wonders how much of what she tries to do to support collaboration actually follows students out the doors of my classroom and influences the rest of their academic lives. Further, how can we encourage more collaboration among the disciplines once they’re no longer “trapped” in the same classroom?

Support for Collaboration The authors’ attempts at encouraging collaboration are supported by recommendations by U.S. accrediting agencies as well; in particular, the North American Schools of Art and Design (NASAD) and the Higher Learning Commission (HLC) both include statements on the value of collaboration, particularly as it relates to general education. NASAD recommends that General Studies programs teach students to “respect, understand, and evaluate work in a variety of disciplines” and to have an “understanding of and experience in art forms other than the visual arts and design.” In addition, the American Association of Colleges and Universities’ (AAC&U) essential learning outcomes note the need for skill in collaboration to help prepare students for 21st-century challenges. The AAC&U suggests that essential learning outcomes should include “synthesis and advanced accomplishment across generalized and specialized studies” and intellectual and practical skills such as teamwork and problem solving. Noble goals indeed, but

the realistic truth is that too often general education courses end up being ghettoized, devalued as mere hoops through which to jump and distractions from students’ “real work” in their major disciplines. With this project, the authors hope to find ways to help faculty and students see the possibilities for productive collaboration and synthesis among all the parts of their education—general education, art history, and their art/design studio work. Faculty in general education want to see this collaboration because, naturally, we want our students to appreciate the value of the material that we—in English, history, math, the social sciences, and so on—teach them and its real and vital relationships with their studio majors.

And certainly art and design faculty at the college also value this skill of getting students to think outside of their own experiences and disciplines. The well-known American design magazine Metropolis’s 2004 Survey of North American design schools, which was focused on interdisciplinary collaboration, illustrates this, as most faculty surveyed said that they believed collaboration was “an essential skill for any complex assignment requiring a deep understanding of environmental sustainability, universal access, craft and technology, and sensitivity to local cultures in a global market.” In fact, 71% of teachers surveyed said that they felt that interdepartmental collaborations were an important part of their curriculum. Conversely, when asked how often they initiate collaborations with other design departments, 50% of design professors said sometimes, 28% said never, and only the minority, 22%, said they initiated collaboration on a regular basis (Szenasy, 2004).

In that same article, when asked to describe an interdepartmental collaborative project and to comment on whether or not it was fruitful, one student said, “There was a huge learning curve for everyone at the outset because we couldn’t communicate, our vocabularies and experiences were too specialized.” The author of the article also claimed that students, when asked, spoke freely about the difficulties of collaboration and the obstacles of language use, referring to the fact that “every discipline has its own jargon.”

It seems that we all crave greater collaboration; that desire itself is not a “big debate.” But how we get to that improved collaboration is the subject of debate. With that question in mind, we decided to use the common practice of visualization as a starting point, knowing that every major program at our college used or discussed this practice of talking about visuals in some way, and that selected general education courses did so as well. We hoped to explore the ways in which the language of visualization might help our students to engage with one another through meaningful collaborative experiences.

Defining Discipline-Specific Visual Language To find out how our colleagues spoke about visuals in their classrooms, we sent an email to the entire college faculty explaining that we were investigating the ways in which the college’s faculty and our students used language when creating, applying, analyzing, or discussing visuals. We explained that we were curious to know the ways in which our use of terminology connected and/or divided us and gave them the following three questions:

1. Please list the kinds of visual objects/artifacts that your students create, choose and apply, analyze, and discuss in your class(es).

2. When you have students look at a visual object for the purpose of analysis/learning and/or application, what are some of the questions you encourage students to consider or what kinds of things do you want them to notice? (Perhaps you could tell us the top 3-5 things?)

3. What are some key phrases or words associated with visual analysis and/or application?

We received responses from about a dozen faculty from a range of disciplines including art history, drawing, visual rhetoric, graphic design, interior design, painting, and photography, to name a number. We observed a number of common threads in the responses. To cite just a few: many faculty noted the need to have students share their “first impressions” or “visceral/emotional impressions” upon first seeing a visual object. Many focused on the need to discuss the materials used to create the visual object under scrutiny and the design or artistic principles evidenced by it, such as scale, materiality, line, color, and so on. Many faculty cited the need to discuss the user’s/viewer’s/audience’s experience. And finally most respondents noted that they would want students spending time understanding or investing the image’s context—historical, geographical, cultural, artistic, and so on (see Figure 1).

Figure 1: Selected words faculty from various disciplines used to discuss visuals.

Using Language for a Specific Visual Image Although we observed some common themes and language, we theorized that we could, perhaps, get even more revealing responses if we had faculty respond to a “common visual

image.” We chose this image (see Figure 2) of the Seattle Public Library, in Seattle, Washington, because we thought it was a provocative image but not one that any faculty member would necessarily be accustomed to showing in his or her classes.

Figure 2: Seattle Public Library, Seattle, Washington, USA (photo: places.designobserver.com)

We asked faculty whether they would be able to use this image fruitfully to lead discussion in their classes. We asked “What analysis or questions could you engage in with this visual image? What would you point out to students? What could you want them to notice/ask? (Even if you are critical of this image/place, can you think of ways to engage students in a discussion of some of its features that would--perhaps--relate to the general content/focus of your course?)” We asked faculty to set aside what they might already know about the place, if anything, in order to reduce the number of very similar responses on the building’s contextual details, since those kinds of details were not our primary area of research interest.

We received responses from another dozen or so people in a similar variety of disciplines, many of whom we heard from in the first round of questions. And as we studied the responses—without even speaking to each other first—we both observed four categories of comments—namely, comments about context, audience, maker, and the object itself.

First, regarding context, an art historian said: “I would place the image into a period context, at the least note that it was done recently, say, and then, presuming the class has some background, ask what stylistic evidence is there to mark it as a "post-post-modern work (or even just plain old post-modern).” An interior designer said that she would discuss the building’s

“context in a city, with the street, with humans, with the neighboring buildings,” and so on. And drawing faculty member said that she would ask students about “What makes this structure unusual in relation to other buildings.” Similar kinds of responses were echoed by almost every other respondent.

Regarding audience, a digital media professor said that he would ask students “to find 2-5 words to describe how they think the building would make them feel if they were to walk up to it from across the street in anticipation of going inside.” An industrial design professor said that he would ask them to pick a specific market (or target consumer group) that they feel would be attracted to this visual theme. A faculty member who teaches visual rhetoric said that he would ask students “what visually attracts you about the place? What about the design makes it inviting, or might perhaps turn some people off.” Most faculty made some reference to having students share their own “first,” “visceral,” or “emotional” responses to the place.

Next, regarding comments about the “maker,” a photography professor—naturally responding more to the photo than the building as the primary object of analysis—said that she would ask students what “they thought the purpose of the photo was, what the photographer wanted to communicate.” Another faculty member who teaches visual rhetoric as well as aesthetics said that he would ask students to consider if they “believe[d] [that] the architect intended to direct [their] experience of the work in” a particular way. Other faculty talked not so much about the “maker” and his/her intentions but instead about the “personality” of the building. For example, a visual rhetoric faculty member said that she would “talk about how ethos (the character of the speaker/maker) is expressed in the design and execution of the building.” And an industrial design faculty member said that he would ask whether the building presented “a masculine theme? Does it communicate ruggedness? Durability? Safety? Aggressiveness?” (Interestingly, discussion of the “maker” was clearly the least represented element of the four we observed.)

Finally, many faculty discussed the formal properties of the object itself. Nearly all of the respondents said that they would discuss the building’s use of line, scale, pattern, use of materials, scale, color. For example, an art history professor said that she would have students discuss [w]hat is contemporary about its form, materials, use of line, color, scale.” An interior design professor said “First, I'd ask the students to identify the elements and principles of design they see (e.g., repetition, form, pattern, scale...).” A graphic design faculty noted that he would have students notice details of the building’s shape, scale, geometric angle[s],” as well as its “materials (e.g., glass, metal, landscaping),” among other formal properties that he listed. Notable about these—and most—of the responses from faculty is that they noted this formal properties first (or, at least, very early) in their responses, indicating the value they place on this aspect of the analytical process.

Mapping the Conversations We considered those four elements and looked at them as separate categories (see Figure 3),

Figure 3: The categories created to reflect faculty responses.

and we realized that they made a very natural fit with various and more inter-related models of verbal (written and/or oral) communication as they have been presented visually by communications scholars over the past century or so. Examples of such visual maps abound, but some of the most notable include the Shannon-Weaver 1949 Mathematical Model, which is a linear model that leads a message from an information source to an encoder, a channel, a decoder, then a destination; Schramm’s 1954 Model of Communication, which is a circular model that also maps a message from an encoder to a decoder; and structural linguist Roman Jakobson’s 1960 model of interpersonal verbal communication, which considers the context, contact, addresser, and addressee of a message in an inter-connected manner, to cite just three. To examine the complexities of each model would be—and has been—the subject of other articles.

We were interested to find a workable visual model that would allow us to map our findings because we were beginning to see the possibilities for showing our colleagues and students visually the points of intersection among our academic and studio disciplines. We theorized that if we could present these points of overlap visually, we could help faculty and students think about ways to transfer concepts and ideas from one realm to another and, thus, enhance understanding among disciplines and promote better conversations and collaboration.

To present our findings visually, we liked an older and simpler model that—while it surely does not capture the detail of these models—does succeed in mapping key aspects of the communications process that we see replicated in our colleagues’ discussions of visuals. The simplicity of this model, in other words, suits our purpose (see Figure 4).

Figure 4: The Rhetorical Triangle

Our model is one with roots in Aristotelian rhetoric. James Kinneavy, well-known rhetorician and author of A Theory of Discourse (1971) among many other works, developed an image (similar to the one presented here) that could be used as a visual metaphor for the so-called rhetorical situation (or communication situation). It presented visually the relationship between writer, audience, and text as well as the surrounding context. It points to the ways in which writer, audience, and text (or creator, viewer, and object, to recast it in terms more appropriate to visual objects) necessarily affect one another and shape the object’s creation and reception. For example, a speech on gun control (a text) is necessarily different (either in its creation or its reception) when given to gun owners than when presented to peace activists (audience). And a monument designed by Maya Lin (writer/creator), for example, for a specific occasion also “reads” differently to viewers than one designed by an artist unknown to the art world, freshly graduated from college. It is an image that now appears commonly in many texts on the study of composition and rhetoric; students in writing and speech classes at both the high school and colleges levels would likely see this image reproduced quite frequently. The four major elements could also be recast as: creator/encoder/author, audience/decoder/reader, text/object, and context. We embraced the simplicity of this model because, although it doesn’t get into the fine details of the communications process, it does help us point to common threads that unite our various inquiries and practices of written, oral, and visual communication (see Figure 5).

Figure 5: The rhetorical triangle with key words from faculty responses integrated.

We certainly do appreciate that discipline-specific language is vitally important to the individual majors; interior designers, painters, art historians, graphic designers, and so on, have discipline-specific vocabulary, history, and concepts that necessarily employ as part of their developed intellectual and practice expertise. We don’t intend to diminish the need for that specialized discourse. Nor do we intend to put forth a prescriptive document or image of a common language that is “necessary” to collaborate. Rather, we hope that this kind of visual map might simply illuminate some of the points of intersection among our disciplines—whether they be design, fine art, art history, or general education courses such as writing, visual rhetoric, aesthetics, and so on.

Conclusion We’re theorizing that, for our next step, if we can offer this visual tool to a few of our colleagues in various disciplines, we can learn (a) what comments they have on it, and (b) how students might start to use it to transfer knowledge and skills (and an understanding of inter-relatedness) between classes. We expect that once our colleagues see this map, they may have suggestions for how it could be revised and improved. We’re eager for that kind of criticism. If many of them would actually contribute to the writing and rewriting of this visual map, then there would naturally be more ownership of it and, correspondingly, more engagement with it and use of it.

In sum, we hope that a visual map like this one might serve first to spark conversations—and even big debates—among faculty as to the points of connection as well as key distinctions among disciplines. We are mindful of the need to do this in a positive and encouraging spirit to minimize any perceptions that we’re preaching to our colleagues or overlooking key and important distinctions that define their disciplines. From those conversations, our hope is to create positive connections and conversations among faculty, which in turn may lead to them

thinking more about how to effectively collaborate with colleagues from other disciplines and, in turn, how to help their students cross boundaries as well.

One specific result we hope to see is that students would be better equipped to transfer learning from class to class—both within and across disciplines. If students see faculty collaborating and creating connections between the disciplines and then encouraging student to do so as well, then students will surely learn better the value of all of the parts of their college education—including their general education. As a result, they will better equipped to collaborate with others outside of their disciplines once they reach the workplace, which in turn will make them a more valuable asset to organizations seeking to innovate and succeed in our widely connected global society.

References Jakobson, Roman. (1960). “Closing Statements: Linguistics and Poetics.” In Thomas A.

Sebeok, Style in Language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. 350-77.

Kinneavy, James (1971). A theory of discourse: The aims of discourse. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall.

Schramm, Wilbur (1954). “How Communication Works.” In The Process and Effects of Communication. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. 3-26.

Szenasy, S. (2004, August/September). School Survey: 2004. Metropolis. August/September 2004, 88-91.

Weaver, Warren and Claude Elwood Shannon (1963). The Mathematical Theory of Communication. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press.

Susanna Kelly Engbers Susanna Kelly Engbers, Ph.D., is Professor of English and chair of the General Education program at Kendall College of Art and Design of Ferris State University in Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA. She teaches courses in rhetoric, writing, and literature, and her research focuses on rhetorical strategies of nineteenth-century American suffragists as well as the intersections of visual rhetoric and design. Her work has been published in Rhetoric Society Quarterly, the College English Association Forum, and most recently in Art, Design, and Communication in Higher Education (forthcoming).

Angela L. Dow Angela L. Dow, M.Ed., is Professor of Graphic Design at Kendall College of Art and Design of Ferris State University in Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA. She served as Graphic Design program chair from 2001 to 2010. She has led a number of collaborative projects with other design disciplines at Kendall and co-developed a four-course concentration in Design and Innovation Management. Angela serves as a consultant evaluator for the Higher Learning Commission and has also served as President of the Board of Directors for the American Advertising Federation of West Michigan and as Mentorship Chair on the Board of the AIGA West Michigan.