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Artistic Research in
Performance through
Collaboration

Edited by Martin Blain · Helen Julia Minors

Artistic Research in Performance through
Collaboration
 Martin Blain • Helen Julia Minors
Editors

Artistic Research in
Performance through
Collaboration
Editors
Martin Blain Helen Julia Minors
Manchester Metropolitan University Kingston University
Manchester, UK London, UK

ISBN 978-3-030-38598-9    ISBN 978-3-030-38599-6 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-38599-6

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2020
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
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electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now
known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and informa-
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 Foreword

Creative practice as research has had a relatively short life in British univer-
sities, with the exception, one might argue, of musical composition, whose
historical acceptance as an academic activity goes back to music’s member-
ship of the medieval Quadrivium on the grounds that it was, with geom-
etry, arithmetic and astronomy, essentially a branch of mathematics.
Musical composition’s established, if anomalous, academic status,
underpinned by the role of music as guarantee for the modernist ideology
of aesthetic autonomy, has given composers in the academy a privileged
position that has often exempted them from engaging with the now
extensive debate around artistic practice as research in other fields. Some
would say just as well,1 since the intellectual rationale for creative practice
as research in UK universities was never thought through systematically.
In the tradition of British empiricism, it has simply muddled itself into
being as a series of pragmatic responses to the process by which Art
Schools and Music and Drama Conservatoires, once considered to offer
essentially skills-based training, were gradually brought into the Higher
Education system from the 1960s onwards. By the 1996 Research
Assessment Exercise (RAE), post-1992 arts institutions (often now facul-
ties within new universities) wanted a share of the research income cake,
and they made a vigorous case for the creative work of artistic practitio-
ners teaching in Higher Education Institutions to be considered as
research for the purpose of the RAE. But since then the criteria for what
constitutes research in practice have, quite rightly, become increasingly
stringent (e.g., the five-­year funded AHRB project, Practice as Research
in Performance (PARIP), running between 2001 and 2006 generated

v
vi FOREWORD

‘national frameworks for the encouragement of the highest standards in

representing practical-creative research within academic contexts’2). As a
result, many artists teaching in universities are now putting themselves
through elaborate contortions to justify their work as research according
to the new criteria. In the 1996 RAE, the quality of artistic practice was
judged largely in relation to indicators of esteem: an exhibition in a major
gallery or a BBC commission for an orchestral work being deemed pri-
mary evidence of the merit of the submitting artist’s work (with a lot of
arguably dubious ‘research’ appointments of high-profile artists being
made as a result). The 2014 Research Excellence Framework panels made
it clear that such indicators of public or professional esteem are no longer
relevant in evaluating the work that is submitted, which was supposedly
judged solely on its merit as research that followed the Research Councils’
own criteria of originality, rigour and significance. (All three criteria are
necessary; something can be original, for instance, but if it lacks method-
ological rigour or understanding of its creative or theoretical research
contexts it may lack wider significance.)
Practical experimentation is, of course, fundamental to scientific
enquiry, so is not per se at issue in the legitimation of creative practice as
research. What is at issue is the knowledge claims of artistic practice when
placed alongside those of scientific research (although anyone who has
had dealings with European Research Institutions will be familiar with the
slightly estranging terminology of ‘scientific’ in relation to humanities
research—one of the reasons, I suspect, that creative practice has taken
longer to establish itself on continental Europe).3 The argument for cre-
ative practice as research has been supported by a wide range of discus-
sions and publications drawing on new understandings of knowledge
(such as theories of embodied knowledge4 or material thinking5) that
legitimate artistic practices as modes of understanding and knowledge cre-
ation, to which this book, Artistic Research in Performance through
Collaboration, will be a valuable addition. But artists have been undertak-
ing research in their professional practice long before they were required
to engage with academic research discourses. The Italian painters of the
Quattrocento who investigated the artistic potential of the newly estab-
lished geometry of perspective; the composers who around 1600 unwit-
tingly invented opera as an outcome of scholarly research into the
performance practices of Greek classical drama; Stanislavsky’s develop-
ment of his ‘System’ for acting; Braque and Picasso working alongside
 FOREWORD vii

each other to forge Cubism; Schoenberg’s development of Serialism: all

were undoubtedly engaged in systematic projects of artistic research.
These examples all have a number of things in common: a sense of
common endeavour, sometimes collaborative and sometimes competitive
(as I will show, these are not mutually exclusive); a clear relationship
between theory and practice—whether the practice is employed to test a
theoretical hypothesis, as was the case with the composers who invented
opera in response to the theoretical speculations of Renaissance scholars
concerning classical drama, or whether the theory is parallel or post facto,
as was the case with the group of lesser Cubist artists around Picasso and
Braque who theorised Cubism as it evolved; and a belief that artistic inno-
vation involves issues of cultural meaning and value rather than merely
technical concerns (although technical research in the arts is important—
e.g., testing new techniques, technologies or materials); Schoenberg did
not develop serialism for novelty value—there was, for him, much at stake
in challenging the old tonal paradigm. Such work would certainly meet
the Arts and Humanities Research Council’s criteria for research: it was
led by ‘research questions, issues or problems’ (Jacopo Peri: ‘how might
the Greeks and Romans have sung their dramatic texts?’; Braque: how can
we paint the space between objects rather than the objects themselves?;
Schoenberg: ‘how can we reconstitute musical form on a non-hierarchical
basis?’); it was highly aware of its own creative and discursive contexts; and
it was driven by the need to find new methods for new problems. I would
like to look at two of these examples in more depth.
What we now recognise as opera came into being in Florence around
1600, the year of the publication of William Gilbert’s De magnete, which
the most recent historian of the scientific revolution, David Wootton,
boldly describes as ‘the first major work of experimental science in
600 years’.6 Ten years later, Galileo published The Starry Messenger, the
work that decisively challenged Aristotelian science and confirmed
Copernicus’s theories. The literary historian Elizabeth Spiller has sug-
gested that the epistemological approaches of literature and science were
much closer to each other in the early modern era than today, and entailed
a ‘central understanding of art as a basis for producing knowledge’,7 whilst
the art historian David Freedburg similarly argues that visual images
started to become a form of knowledge production around 1600.8 In
opera, the terms used by the composers and librettists of early opera to
explain the premises and processes that brought the first surviving opera,
Euridice (1600), into being are close to the concepts such as ‘discovery,
viii FOREWORD

‘invention’, ‘hypothesis’, ‘fact’, ‘evidence’ and ‘experiment’ that David

Wootton notes as being distinctive to the mentality of the scientific revolu-
tion.9 Wootton explains that in the Renaissance ‘there were fundamentally
two types of argument: arguments from reason and arguments from
authority’,10 and that increasingly reasoning became prevalent. In his pref-
ace in the published score for Euridice (the publication of such scores, and
their accompanying theoretical manifestos, is itself a significant marker of
practice that was entering into a field of critical discourse), Peri states that
‘for in all human activities, the principle and source must be reason, and
he who cannot readily give his reasons gives grounds for believing that he
acted on chance’.11 Although there are many examples of chance discovery
in science, Peri is following good ‘philosophical’ practice in his preface
when he states that he needs to provide a rationale for his experiment,
which is based on the evidence of Greek and Roman practice in setting
theatrical texts to music (Peri still draws on classical authority, although
historical reconstruction remains a valid research methodology to this
day). In the brief theoretical statement appended by Monteverdi to his
Fifth Book of Madrigals (1605), Monteverdi similarly insists that he does
not compose ‘by chance’ (a caso); in other words, that he has a reason for
what he does. And he concludes by justifying his practice by appeal ‘to
reason and to the senses’ rather than authority.12
In explaining how they came to produce Euridice, Rinuccini and Peri
duly articulate what we would recognise as a working ‘hypothesis’ that
they need to test in practice. As Rinuccini puts in his own preface to his
libretto: ‘It is the opinion of many […] that the ancient Greeks and
Romans sung their tragedies throughout in performance’,13 a hypothesis
that was based on some plausible evidence offered by the antiquarian
scholar Girolamo Mei and others (and which is upheld by a great many
modern scholars). Rinuccini and Peri therefore undertook some ‘experi-
ments’ to test their hypothesis: ‘Jacopo Peri, when he heard of the inten-
tion of sig. Jacopo Corsi, set to music with so much grace the favola of
Dafne, composed by me for the sole purpose of making a test/proof
[prova] of that which song can do in our era’. The ambiguity of the word
‘prova’ here is explained by Wootton when he notes that the term can be
used to refer both to a practical test and to the demonstration of the cor-
rectness of a theory, or what we would call proof,14 both of which are
implied here, for Rinuccini and Peri both tested the hypothesis rigorously,
and ‘proved’ it by demonstrating the dramatic effectivity of sung drama.
 FOREWORD ix

For evidence of the ‘proof’ provided by their experiment, Peri and

Rinuccini mention what we would recognise as a form of peer review, Peri
listing the eminent cultural figures who testified to the success of Dafne:
the composer Pietro Strozzi, a member of one of the most eminent
Florentine families, Francesco Cini, a theatre poet associated with the new
musical school, and ‘other most learned gentlemen’, as well as Vittoria
Archilei, reigning prima donna of her day, and Giovan Battista Jacomelli
(or Giacomelli), its foremost violinist (i.e., prominent representatives of
each component of operatic production). The creation of what can be
described as a ‘peer-review college’ was one of the most distinctive aspects
of the new scientific method. Bruno Latour identifies the novelty of the
Anglo-Irish scientist Robert Boyle’s public demonstration of his air pump
to a selected community of scientists: ‘Instead of seeking to ground a work
in logic, mathematics or rhetoric, Boyle relied on the parajuridical meta-
phor: credible, trustworthy, well-to-do witnesses gathered at the scene of
the action can attest to the existence of a fact, even if they do not know its
true nature’.15
As Wootton demonstrates, the early scientists were fully aware of the
newness of the new science in which they were engaged, something which,
again, the creators of opera were also cognisant of in what Monteverdi
dubbed ‘the second practice’. And one sign of this is that, like their scien-
tist contemporaries, they were a part of what Wootton identifies as ‘a new
culture of priority claims’,16 which was quite as virulent amongst musicians
as were the disputes between Galileo and his many opponents as to who
had discovered what, and when. In his introduction to his collection of
songs titled Le Nuove Musiche (1601/2), Giulio Caccini, who in fact com-
posed large sections of Euridice, and subsequently published his own ver-
sion in clear competition with his rival Peri, significantly backdates his
innovations by some years to ensure that it is understood that they pre-
ceded those by his rivals, in the new monodic style, Peri and Emilio de’
Cavalieri. Cavalieri was just as insistent that it was he who had ‘invented’
representational music, as he claimed everyone knew in a letter of 1600.17
But arguments over priority also indicate recognition of a shared set of
problems and challenges. Thus, Wootton describes how, during the seven-
teenth century, scientists and mathematicians such as Pascal, Gassendi and
Mersenne ‘competed with each other and collaborated’18—something
that is, again, evident amongst the creators of opera, who perforce worked
together, sometimes acknowledged each other’s achievements, but also
competed fiercely. The fact that the same libretti were set by different
x FOREWORD

composers (Dafne by Peri, Marco da Gagliano and possibly Caccini,

Euridice by Peri and Caccini) is another indication that competition might
still entail common purpose, for as the sociologist of knowledge Barry
Barnes suggests, any form of practice is, in effect, a form of ‘collective
action’ to the extent that it always enters into an existing field.19 The art
historian Elizabeth Cropper suggests that the claims to novelty and origi-
nality made by artists in the circles of Caravaggio and the Carracci in Rome
in the early years of the seventeenth century are indicative of a similar
revaluation of novelty amidst the ‘jealous and competitive world of scien-
tific and artistic discovery in Rome at the beginning of the century’, which
she sees as being driven by the increasing prevalence of market forces in
the production and acquisition of artworks, and the tendency for artists
and intellectuals to claim what we recognise as modern forms of author-
ship.20 Today’s academics will recognise the way in which the marketisa-
tion of Higher Education has led to similar competition over resources,
despite the official rhetoric of collaboration. But even when, as artists-­
researchers, we are not apparently working with others, we cannot escape
the fact that we are virtually collaborating to the extent that our work is
always mediated by, and engaging with, shared histories and discourses.
My other example is Arnold Schoenberg and his quest for non-tonal
musical structures. Although Schoenberg cast himself as a lonely pioneer,
he was, of course, not alone in exploring non-tonal music, nor even in
coming up with serialism (although he may have been alone in deciding
that atonality needed a ‘solution’). Schoenberg judged his musical ‘discov-
eries’ to be on a par with Einstein’s discovery of relativity, but what was
much more important in Schoenberg’s case was that there was something
at stake beyond the merely aesthetic or practical problem he had set him-
self. For Schoenberg considered the tonal system to embed social and
political hierarchies that he wanted to challenge by giving each note in the
musical scale equal weight, rather than its being subordinated as a ‘satrap’
to the authority of the ‘sovereign’ tonic (which he dubbed ‘Napoleon’).21
It may be that Schoenberg’s drawing attention to the ideological under-
pinnings of musical forms that had hitherto been declared in the ideology
of absolute music to be merely abstract was more important as a contribu-
tion to our knowledge and understanding of music in the long term (‘sig-
nificance’) than his discovery of serialism (‘originality’)—despite the
extensive impact of the latter on twentieth-century composition.
With artistic practice as research, emphasis is placed on the aptness of
the research questions, the rigour of the methodology, the thoroughness
 FOREWORD xi

of the contextual research and the acumen of the theoretical conclusions

that are adduced. Process, rather than product; generalisable knowledge
rather than specific aesthetic experience. While these are essential to the
definition and evaluation of practice as research, they may be less relevant
to creative practice that is not pursuing research aims. On the other hand,
the question of aesthetic quality is often less important in the evaluation of
creative practice as research. Indeed, let’s admit it, such practice can lead
to some dull artistic outcomes. But, perhaps this does not matter: Peri’s
Euridice is ground-breaking as a technical demonstration of the possibili-
ties of sung drama, but it is dry and, dare I say it, ‘academic’ in comparison
with Monteverdi’s Orfeo (Mantua, 1607), a passionate masterpiece that
showed the true artistic potential of Peri’s more cautious first steps. But
Orfeo, which follows the dramatic structure of Euridice closely, and in
which Monteverdi was most certainly pitting himself against his Florentine
peers in an act of competitive collaboration, almost certainly would not
have happened without Peri’s earlier experiments. And, moreover, the
methods of monodic composition developed by Peri for sung drama laid
down the principles of what we now recognise more generally as modern
music, beyond opera. Peri’s Euridice is Original, Rigorous and, above all
Significant, even if it is a little dull.

University of Sussex Nicholas Till

Brighton, UK
n.till@sussex.ac.uk

Notes
1. See John Croft, ‘Composition is not Research,’ Tempo, 69, no. 272 (2015):
6–11.
2. PARIP (n.d.), Practice as Research in Performance, http://www.bris.ac.
uk/parip/introduction.htm (last accessed 12 August 2019).
3. For more information on artistic research in continental Europe, see
Kathleen Coessens, Darla Crispin and Anne Douglas, The Artistic Turn: A
Manifesto (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 2009).
4. See Michael Polanyi, The Tacit Dimension (New York: Anchor Books,
1967); Eleanor Rosch, Evan Thompson and Francisco J. Varela, eds.,
The Embodied Mind: Cognitive science and human experience
xii Foreword

(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1991); Marie-Helene Coetzee,

‘Embodied Knowledge(s), Embodied Pedagogies and Performance,’
editor’s introduction to special volume ‘Embodied Knowledge(s),
Embodied Pedagogies and Performance,’ South African Theatre
Journal, 31, no. 1 (2018): Taylor and Francis online. https://www.
tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10137548.2018.1425527?scroll
=top&needAccess=true (last accessed 10 August 2019).
5. See Paul Carter, Material Thinking: The theory and practice of creative
research (Melbourne: Melbourne University Publishing, 2005).
6. David Wootton, The Invention of Science: A new history of the scientific revo-
lution (London: Penguin, 2018), 7.
7. Elizabeth Spiller, Science, Reading, and Renaissance Literature: The art of
making knowledge, 1580–1670 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2004), 2.
8. David Freedberg, The Eye of the Lynx: Galileo, his friends and the beginnings
of modern natural history (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 2002).
9. Wootton, The Invention of Science, 2018, 61.
10. Ibid., 297.
11. Jacopo Peri, ‘A Lettori’ Le musiche di Iacopo Peri, nobil fiorentino sopra
l’Euridice del Sig. Ottavio Rinuccini: rappresentate nello sponsalizio della
cristianissima Maria Medici, regina di Francia e di Navarra (Florence:
Giorgio Marescotti, 1600).
12. Paolo Fabbri, Monteverdi, translated by Tim Carter (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1994), 48.
13. Ottavio Rinuccini, ‘Alla cristianissima Maria Medici regina di Francia, e di
Navarra,’ L’Euridice d’Ottavio Rinuccini (Florence: Cosimo Giunti,
1600), 3.
14. Wootton, The Invention of Science, 2018, 314.
15. Bruno Latour, We Have Never Been Modern (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 1993), 18.
16. Wootton, The Invention of Science, 2018, 86.
17. Warren Kirkendale, Emilio de’ Cavalieri ‘Gentilhuomo Romano’ (Florence:
Leo S. Olschi Editore, 2001), 369.
18. Wootton, The Invention of Science, 2018, 339.
19. Barry Barnes, ‘Practice as Collective Action,’ in The Practice Turn in
Contemporary Theory, edited by Theodore R. Schatzki, Karin Knorr Cetina
and Eike von Savigny (London & New York: Routledge, 2001), 17–28.
20. Elizabeth Cropper, The Domenichino Affair: Novelty, imitation, and theft
in Seventeenth Century Rome (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005),
134.
21. Arnold Schoenberg, Theory of Harmony, translated by Roy E. Carter
(Berkeley; University of California Press, 1983), 128–129.
 Foreword  xiii

Bibliography
Barnes, Barry. 2001. Practice as Collective Action. In The Practice Turn in
Contemporary Theory, ed. Theodore R. Schatzki, Karin Knorr Cetina,
and Eike von Savigny, 17–28. London/New York: Routledge.
Carter, Paul. 2004. Material Thinking: The Theory and Practice of Creative
Research. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press.
Coessens, Kathleen, Darla Crispin, and Anne Douglas. 2009. The Artistic
Turn: A Manifesto. Leuven: Leuven University Press.
Coetzee, Marie-Helene. 2018. Embodied Knowledge(s), Embodied
Pedagogies and Performance. South African Theatre Journal 31 (1).
Taylor and Francis online. https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10
.1080/10137548.2018.1425527?scroll=top&needAccess=true.
Accessed 10 Aug 2019.
Croft, John. 2015. Composition is not Research. Tempo 69 (272): 6–11.
Doğantan-Dack, Mine. 2017. Once Again: The Page and the Stage.
Journal of Royal Music Association 142 (2): 445–460.
Cropper, Elizabeth. 2005. The Domenichino Affair: Novelty, Imitation,
and Theft in Seventeenth Century Rome. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Fabbri, Paolo. 1994. Monteverdi, Trans. Tim Carter. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Freedberg, David. 2002. The Eye of the Lynx: Galileo, his Friends and the
Beginnings of Modern Natural History. Chicago: Chicago
University Press.
Kirkendale, Warren. 2001. Emilio de’ Cavalieri ‘Gentilhuomo Romano’.
Florence: Leo S. Olschi Editore.
Latour, Bruno. 1993. We Have Never Been Modern. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Peri, Jacopo. 1600. ‘A Lettori’ Le musiche di Iacopo Peri, nobil fiorentino
sopra l’Euridice del Sig. Ottavio Rinuccini: rappresentate nello sponsal-
izio della cristianissima Maria Medici, regina di Francia e di Navarra.
Florence: Giorgio Marescotti.
PARIP. (n.d.). Practice as Research in Performance, http://www.bris.
ac.uk/parip/introduction.htm. Accessed 12 Aug 2019.
Polanyi, Michael. 1967. The Tacit Dimension. New York: Anchor Books.
Rinuccini, Ottavio. 1600. ‘Alla cristianissima Maria Medici regina di
Francia, e di Navarra’ L’Euridice d’Ottavio Rinuccini. Florence:
Cosimo Giunti.
xiv Foreword

Rosch, Eleanor, Evan Thompson, and Francisco J. Varela, eds. 1991. The
Embodied Mind: Cognitive Science and Human Experience. Cambridge,
MA: MIT Press.
Wootton, David. 2018. The Invention of Science: A New History of the
Scientific Revolution. London: Penguin.
Schoenberg, Arnold. 1983. Theory of Harmony. Trans. Roy E. Carter.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Spiller, Elizabeth. 2004. Science, Reading, and Renaissance Literature:
The Art of Making Knowledge, 1580–1670. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
 Acknowledgements

This book began like all good collaborative journeys, as a conversation

which sprouted more questions than answers, and more opportunities
than time, and as much excitement as concrete ideas. We editors were
both, at the time, leading activities in practice as research, and we decided
to co-chair a conference which would lead to developing our ideas further.
The initial conference, Creative Arts and Creative Industries: Collaborations
in Practice, was hosted at the Manchester School of Art and was jointly
funded by the Practice Research Unit, Kingston University, London and
MIRIAD at Manchester Metropolitan University. Support and conference
hosting was co-managed by the former groups as well as with the Royal
Northern College of Music. We thank our colleagues and institutions/
organisations, especially Jane Ginsborg, John Mullarkey, Peter Buse and
Richard Wistreich, for their support. We also thank especially our keynote
speakers, Mine Doğantan-Dack, Anthony Gritten and Roger McKinley.
Funding to complete this project has been granted to us by Manchester
Metropolitan University and Kingston University, to enable writing
retreats in Snowdonia, Wales and Nantwich, England.
There are many forms of collaboration represented in this book,
through co-authored chapters, or through citations of participants, co-­
creators and performers. As such we would like to thank both the ano-
nymised and named participants in the various projects which follow.
Notable for their help in accessing materials are FACTLab, Simon
Destruslais, Walter Thompson, Jane Turner and Karen Wood.
A constant mentor and inspirational figure for both of us, as editors, has
been Robin Nelson. Robin has kindly acted as a keynote presenter of the

xv
xvi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Practice Research Unit, Kingston University, during its existence and has
led the development of practice as research within the curriculum at
Manchester Metropolitan University. His guidance, mentorship and
friendship has been important to both of us, and we wish here to thank
Robin for his generosity and continued support.
Thanks also go to our publisher, Palgrave Macmillan, for their help in
bringing this project to fruition, and to the anonymous peer reviewers for
their helpful feedback in the early stages and latter stages of the project.
 Contents

Part I Critical Contexts   1

1 Introduction: Defining the Territory: Collaborative

Processes, Issues and Concepts  3
Martin Blain and Helen Julia Minors

2 The Place of Artistic Research in Higher Education 11

Martin Blain and Helen Julia Minors

Part II Collaborative Demonstrations in Practice  37

3 Why Collaborate? Critical Reflections on Collaboration in

Artistic Research in Classical Music Performance 39
Mine Doğantan-Dack

4 The Aesthetics of Artistic Collaboration 59

Andy Hamilton

5 In the Bee Hive: Valuing Craft in the Creative Industries 75

Alice Kettle, Helen Felcey, and Amanda Ravetz

xvii
xviii CONTENTS

6 The Right Thing to Play? Issues of Riff, Groove and

Theme in Freely Improvised Ensemble Music: A Case
Study 95
Adam Fairhall

7 Soundpainting: A Tool for Collaborating During

Performance113
Helen Julia Minors

8 Collaboration and the Practitioner-­Researcher: A

Composer’s Perspective139
Tom Armstrong

9 Creative Industries and Copyright: Research into

Collaborative Artistic Practices in Dance165
Mathilde Pavis and Karen Wood

10 Romance and Contagion: Notes on a Conversation

Between Drawing and Dance185
Sally Morfill

11 The Good, The God and The Guillotine: Insider/Outsider

Perspectives205
Martin Blain and Jane Turner

12 Connecting Silos: Examples of Arts Organisation and

HEI Collaborations at the Foundation for Art and
Creative Technology229
Roger McKinley and Mark Wright

Epilogue by Robin Nelson251

Author Index261

Subject Index265
 Note on Contributors

Tom Armstrong studied composition with George Nicholson and Roger

Marsh. He read music at York University, completing a DPhil in composi-
tion in 1994. Tom’s music has been performed by the Fidelio Trio, Jane
Chapman, Notes Inégales, Gemini, the New Music Players, Psappha,
the Delta Saxophone Quartet, the BBC Philharmonic and the
Feinstein Ensemble, and heard across the UK in venues such as Kings
Place, the Wigmore Hall, the Southbank Centre and the Lowry as well as
in Europe and China. He is a Senior Lecturer in Music at the University
of Surrey and in 2016 directed the AHRC-funded research network Music
Composition as Interdisciplinary Practice. Tom’s research stems from his
compositional practice and coalesces around three topics: collaboration
and the composer/performer relationship, approaches to musical borrow-
ing through processes of ‘ruination’, and revision as a compositional
tool—his chamber music CD, Dance Maze (Resonus Classics 2018), is
built around this last theme.
Martin Blain is a Reader in Music Composition at Manchester
Metropolitan University. He is a composer and performer. His work is
divided into three discrete areas: compositional practice (development of
concert works); laptop ensemble performance practice (currently explor-
ing notions of ‘liveness’ through the work of MMUle (Manchester
Metropolitan University laptop ensemble)); and developing practice a­s
research methodologies within music composition and performance
­
(developing appropriate PaR methods to disseminate research insights
from his practice). Martin was composer and performer on the project The

xix
xx NOTE ON CONTRIBUTORS

Good, the God and the Guillotine. He has worked with a variety of leading
contemporary music ensembles and soloists receiving performances of his
works both in the UK and abroad. Musicians he has worked with include
the Apollo Saxophone Quartet, BackBeat Percussion Ensemble, Equivox,
and English Northern Philharmonic Orchestra. In addition, Martin has
published on collaboration, ‘liveness’ in performance, and practice as
research as a research methodology in a variety of journals and book
publications.
Mine Doğantan-Dack is a musicologist and a concert pianist, interna-
tionally regarded as a leading figure in a new generation of artists who are
also academic researchers. Mine was born in Istanbul, and studied at the
Juilliard School (BM, MM), Princeton University (MA), and Columbia
University (PhD). She also holds a BA in Philosophy (Boğaziçi University).
Her books include Mathis Lussy: A Pioneer in Studies of Expressive
Performance (2002); the edited volumes Recorded Music: Philosophical
and Critical Reflections (2009); Artistic Practice as Research in Music
(2015); The Chamber Musician in the Twenty-First Century (2020);
Re-Thinking the Musical Instrument (forthcoming); and the co-edited
volume Music and Sonic Art: Theories and Practices (2018). Mine per-
forms as a soloist and chamber musician, and her playing has been
described as an ‘oasis’ and ‘heaven on earth’. She is the founder of the
Marmara Piano Trio and received an award from the Arts and Humanities
Research Council for her work on chamber music performance. Mine cur-
rently teaches performance and performance studies at the Faculty of
Music, University of Cambridge.
Adam Fairhall is a jazz pianist, improviser, composer and scholar based
near Manchester, England. He has released five albums as leader or co-­
leader to widespread critical acclaim; his 2012 album the Imaginary Delta
was named Album of the Year by influential website Bird is the Worm, and
he has received four-star reviews from Jazzwise, Jazz Journal and The
Guardian. He is often heard on BBC Radio; his album tracks have been
played on Radio 3’s Late Junction and Jazz Line-Up, and he has played on
sessions for Radio 1, Radio 2, Radio 3 and 6Music. Concertzender (Dutch
public radio) produced a programme dedicated to his work in 2014, and
he has been interviewed for The Wire, Jazzwise and Radio 3. Adam holds
a part-time post as Senior Lecturer in Music and Sound at Manchester
Metropolitan University. His research is practice-based.
Another random document with
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scraped out, as it is often worth more as lard than if left as meat. Its
presence greatly disfigures the meat.
Splitting.—This should be done carefully and accurately through
the backbone. A wide blade chopper is by all means preferable.
Washing.—The hog when once cleaned, and after eviscerating
and before splitting or pulling the leaf lard, should not be washed
further unless it be on the neck, since water on split backs is
detrimental to the keeping quality of pork loins.
Drying.—Few appreciate the value and importance of “skin
drying” hogs by dry-shaving and dry-scraping the surface. The
advantage to refrigerating more than overcomes the initial cost of the
labor necessary.

FIG. 105.—HOG SCRAPING GANG AT WORK.

 Care in Chill Room.—It is in this particular part of the house that
the most careful and minute attention to details is necessary in order
to turn out meats in the best marketable condition, as only a few
degree deviation in temperatures from carefully set rules in the
handling of chill rooms, shows excess per cent of sour meat found
thirty to sixty days afterward, when the meats are brought from the
curing cellar. This, therefore, is a department that should receive the
most careful attention. A wrong start here can never be righted
afterward. The rule for operation is previously given under another
chapter. (See Chapter on Coolers).

FIG. 106.—CLEANING HOG CARCASSES.

 Open Air Hanging.—It was formerly considered a necessity to
have an open-air hanging room where hogs could dry after
slaughtering, in many cases allowing them to hang over night; the
object being to save refrigeration. It is the common opinion that the
economy thus obtained is anything but economy. Past experience
has proved that there are certain conditions which must be adhered
to closely in the safe handling and curing of pork products, and
proper temperatures are among the most important of these. It is
very rare that these temperatures prevail in the outside atmosphere,
and hogs that are left on hanging floor over night are either
insufficiently chilled or over-chilled. Many packers feel it
advantageous, however, to run hogs into a hanging room, allowing
them to dry out for one or two hours prior to putting them in the chill
room. While this has no deteriorating effect on the product, the
expense of handling them and the cost of labor incurred is about
equal to the saving in refrigeration, if they are put directly into the
chill room.
 FIG. 107.—SCRAPING LEAF LARD.

Chilling Necessities.—The essential feature in a chill room is that

it be properly constructed and have sufficient refrigeration so that the
temperatures can be controlled precisely as desired. It is advisable
that the coolers be partitioned into tunnels. Into this the hogs are run
as fast as killed, providing that the temperature is not run up too
high. If the temperature goes above 45° F., the carcasses should be
run into another tunnel and placed in the first one as the temperature
goes down.
When the carcasses are to be cut after being forty-eight hours in
the chill room, the cooler should be brought down gradually to a
temperature of 28° F. If they are to be cut when seventy-two hours
old, which from the author’s experience is preferable, the cooler
should be brought down gradually to a temperature of 30° F. With a
cooler properly equipped, and a careful attendant, these instructions
can be carried out in detail, and when thus followed the safe curing
of the product will be found to be practically assured.
While there are other matters which need careful attention, if the
chilling is not done properly, the rest of the operation will never save
the product. The cooler should at all times be kept dry and clean with
dry sawdust on the floor, to absorb drippings, clots of blood, etc.,
from the carcasses; whereas, if the drippings are allowed to remain
on the floor they soon become soured and a menace to the product.
Shrinkage in Chill Rooms.—The question is often raised as to
how much hogs shrink in the cooler from dressed warm weight to
chilled weight, and many people figure this shrinkage represents a
loss. It is a variable quantity depending upon conditions such as the
dryness of the hogs, the quantity of the air circulation, its
temperature and other agents. If the hogs be sold whole plant
weights it represents a loss, but no cooler can be controlled to
prevent shrinkage if it be working properly. Aside from this quite a
proportion of the hog is passed to curing rooms for treatment in salt
or pickle and the original inherent moisture is hardly a traceable
factor here and also the shrinkage in that portion rendered into lard
is immaterial, while the portion shipped as fresh pork must be well
dried out to arrive in good condition upon shipment.
The following figures give an idea of the actual shrinkage of hogs
placed directly in the coolers. It will be noted the tests were made on
light hogs used for shipping purposes. The percentage of shrinkage
would not be as great on heavier carcasses:
TEST NO. 1 ON SHRINKAGE OF HOGS IN COOLER.
Forty-five hogs weighed in cooler direct from killing floor—
Warm weight, 6,892 pounds; average, 153 pounds;
temperature of cooler, 51° to 48° F.
Weight after hanging in cooler forty-eight hours, 6,682
pounds; shrinkage of 210 pounds or 3.04 per cent;
temperature of cooler, 35° to 36° F.
Weight after hanging cooler seventy-two hours, 6,570
pounds; shrinkage of 322 pounds or 4.67 per cent;
 temperature of cooler, 31° to 32° F.
Weight after hanging in cooler ninety-four and one-half
hours, 6,552 pounds; shrinkage of 340 pounds or 4.93 per
cent; temperature of cooler, 32° F.
TEST NO. 2.
Forty-five hogs weighed into cooler direct from killing floor
—Warm weight, 6,970 pounds; average, 155 pounds;
temperature of cooler, 54° F.
Weight after hanging in cooler forty-six hours, 6,660
pounds; shrinkage of 310 pounds or 4.45 per cent;
temperature of cooler, 36° F.
Weight after hanging in cooler seventy-two hours, 6,623
pounds; shrinkage, 347 pounds or 4.97 per cent; temperature
of cooler, 32° F.
Weight after hanging in cooler ninety-four hours, 6,613
pounds; shrinkage, 357 pounds or 5.12 per cent; temperature
or cooler, 32° F.

Hog By-Products.—These consist of the heads, plucks and

entrails, and so much ingenuity is being used to make commercial
products thereof, that nearly as much labor is expended upon these
parts as upon the dressing of the hog.
Heads.—The heads are best made free from hair before severing
from the carcass. If the loose hair is properly removed before the
head is dropped, there is far less likelihood of hair coming in contact
with cheek meat and tongues, from which parts it is difficult to hand
pick.
The heads cleaned, they are skinned, the tongue is taken out,
cheek meat cut off, jaws pulled, brains removed from skulls, skull
frame cut into, to separate the teeth section and upper part of skull,
cleansed of lithoids; snouts and ears are separated from face pieces
and prepared for food products.
Plucks.—Plucks are separated into livers, lungs and hearts. The
hearts are used as sausage meat. The livers are selected for quality
and many sold at retail. Defective livers are used for meat meal or
digester tankage.
Hog Paunches.—Thoroughly clean, strip from fat, remove lining
for sale to pepsin factories. Hog pouches are used for head cheese
stuffing or cleaned like tripe for sheep sausage.
Entrail Fats.—All entrail fats are satisfactory for use in prime
steam lard if properly cleaned.
 CHAPTER XXI
PORK CUTTINGS
Hog Cutting — Variety and Classes of Hogs — Cutting Floor — Pork
Cuts — Hams — Side Meats — Bellies — Backs — Loins — Shoulders —
Butts and Plates — Percentage of Yield — Change Cuts One Side —
Test on Five Sides — Complete Cutting Test.

Hog Cutting.—The division of a carcass into its parts for disposal

of fresh pork and for curing purposes, is a part of the expert work in
the packing house business. The cuts placed in the curing cellar for
shipment six or seven months hence and a prognostication as to
what cut will meet a favorable future market; the sale, etc. are true
problems.
There are a number of standard cuts, however, that are usually
readily disposed of. A description of the various cuts, etc. is given
herein. Use is made of much valuable data collected and published
in the Illinois State Agricultural Department Bulletin previously
referred to.
Variety and Classes of Hogs.—A day’s buying of hogs unless
selected to yield a given quality, is likely to yield the following
classes:
Carcass Weights
Smooth Heavy or Heavy Loin Hogs 240 to 400 lb.
Butcher or Light Loin Hogs 160 to 240 lb.
Packing Hogs 100 to 400 lb.
Bacon or Marked Hogs 90 to 170 lb.
Shippers 100 to 200 lb.
Pigs 20 to 100 lb.

Different styles of dressing are characteristic of the different

classes of carcasses except heavy and light loin hogs, and shippers
and pigs. Dressed hogs of all classes are cut open along the
underline and through the aitch-bone and brisket, but the method of
splitting and trimming varies with the class, as follows:
“Loin Hogs.—These are split down through the center of the back-
bone (‘loin-split’ or ‘center-split’) in order that pork loins may be cut
from the sides. They are dressed “packer style,” i. e., head off, leaf
out and hams faced.

Inside. Outside.

FIG. 108.—SMOOTH HEAVY HOGS.

 “Packing Hogs.—Are usually split like loin hogs; sometimes on
one side of the back bone, making a hard and soft side.
“Bacon Hogs.—Or those used for English meats are usually
dressed ‘marked’; that is, a knife is passed down each side of the
back bone and the backbone removed. The hogs are dressed
regular unless the ham is intended for a long cut ham.

FIG. 109.—BUTCHER HOGS. A, HEAVY. B, LIGHT.

 “Smooth Heavy or Heavy Loin Hogs.—The following description is
of the usual commercial selection of hogs: These are prime smooth
hogs, either barrows or good, clear (not seedy) sows, weighing 240
to 400 pounds, with from four to six inches of fat on the back; thick,
wide, level sides without depressions in the back; heavy hams, filled
out even with sides, full at the rump and well rounded down toward
hocks, without flabbiness. As their name indicates such hogs are
suitable for heavy loins. The remainder of the sides are being used
for heavy short clears or fat backs and bellies.
“Butcher or Light Loin Hogs.—A large proportion of the fresh pork
sold in retail markets is pork loins, which are cut into chops and
roasts; hence light loin or ‘pork loin’ hogs are those from which these
cuts can be obtained to best advantage.
 FIG. 110.—PACKING HOGS (SOWS). A, HEAVY. B, MEDIUM.

“To yield loins of the proper size and quality, a hog carcass should
weigh about 160 to 240 pounds and have the same shape,
smoothness and general quality described for heavy loin hogs. The
covering of fat should be two to four inches thick on the back. This
class is composed of barrows and smooth, clear sows. The weights
most preferred for butcher hogs are 200 to 220 pounds. They are
principally cut up by packers, the loins being sold to retail dealers or
jobbers. Besides loins, fat backs, clear bellies, extra ribs and extra
short clears are commonly made from sides of butcher hogs. The
hams are cut short and the shoulders principally made into picnics,
New York-cut shoulders and Boston butts. In some instances
carcasses of this class are sold to retail markets for fresh trade, in
which case they are dressed either ‘head on’ or ‘head off’ as
ordered. (See Fig. 109.)

FIG. 111.—CHOICE BACON HOGS.

 FIG. 112.—PORK CUTS.

English Cuts. Domestic Cuts. 8. Fat back.

A, Long cut ham. 1. Short cut ham. 9. Clear plate.
B, Long side or middle. 2. Loin. 2, 8. Back.
3. Belly. 2, 3, 8. Side.
 4. Picnic butt. 4, 7. Picnic shoulder.
5. Boston butt. 5, 9. Shoulder butt.
6. Jowl. 8, 9. Long fat back.
7. Hock. 4, 5, 7, 9. Rough shoulder.

“Quality of Packing Hogs.—This class includes mixed hogs of all

weights which are too coarse in quality, rough in shape or soft and
uneven in finish to be suitable primarily for fresh pork products or
smoked meats and are therefore principally packed in such forms as
barreled pork and dry-salt meats.
“Heavy Packing Hogs.—These are also known as Rough Heavy or
Mess Pork Hogs, consist of rough and seedy sows, coarse barrows,
boars and stags averaging 240 to 400 pounds. All heavy hogs that
are too rough to be classed as loin hogs are included in this grade.
Defects common to these carcasses are thick, rough and wrinkled
skin, dark-colored and coarse-grained flesh, soft, oil fat, large bones
and carcass bruises. (Fig. 110.) They are more largely cut into short
ribs and mess pork, and less into loins, fat backs and bellies than
Heavy Loin Hogs, and consequently are more frequently ‘marked’
and side-split although at times a large proportion of them are loin-
split and pork loins taken out. The hams are sweet pickled and
shoulders made into picnics and Boston butts.
“Marked Hogs.—Light marked hogs are those that are suitable
primarily for sugarcured breakfast-bacon bellies and ‘English’ meats.
Since such meats must be comparatively lean, firm and of good
quality, the leading features of bacon hogs are long, deep, smooth
sides with a light, even covering of fat over the entire carcass and
especially uniform on the back and sides. The hams should be full
but lean and the shoulders light and smooth. The flesh must be firm,
the fat solid and the carcass sufficiently mature to insure proper
curing. Hogs which fulfil these conditions weigh 90 to 170 pounds
dressed. The most desirable weights are 120 to 150 pounds. They
consist principally of barrows, but for most grades of bacon, smooth
clear sows that resemble barrows in general quality and finish are
used to some extent. The products principally made from them are
‘English’ middles, backs and bellies, domestic breakfast-bacon
bellies, long-cut and short-cut hams. Bacon hogs vary from choice to
common in quality, finish and shape, although no fixed grades are
universally recognized among packers. This grade is used for the
manufacture of ‘Wiltshire’ and ‘Staffordshire’ sides, ‘English’ backs
and bellies, and fancy breakfast-bacon bellies, also ‘Cumberland’
sides to some extent. They weigh about 120 to 160 pounds.”
Cutting Floors.—The hogs thoroughly chilled are ready for the
cutting room. To be safe, however, the hogs should show a
temperature of from 34° to 36° F. inside of the hams and shoulders.
If this temperature in the meat has been reached by gradual chilling,
very little trouble should be experienced in curing the meats. The
proper cutting of the hog carcass is one of the most important items
in the economical handling of hogs. The great variety of cuts and the
percentage of yield of the various cuts are given on succeeding
pages. For cutting and trimming economically it is essential that
suitable facilities be provided. A cutting floor must be laid out for the
quantity to be handled and for the style of meats to be cut. The
carcass being heavy, the use of slides, conveyor mechanical saws,
etc., are resorted to.
In hog cutting floors of large capacity the arrangement is usually
on three floors or decks, the parts gravitating in the movement
toward a finished cut. It is preferable to do the cutting in a cooled
room in most climates and where a uniform temperature of 40° to
45° can be maintained. Lower temperature would be better but it is
difficult to keep working people satisfied, particularly where female
help is employed, for trimming purposes.
Be it said that moisture and heat are not conducive to the keeping
quality of meats and it is to be avoided. The handling of cold meat in
warm rooms brings about this condition, consequently it is far better
to avoid exposure in cutting hogs into the several parts.
The usual method is to remove the ham, preferably by knife and
hand saw; to chop the shoulder, further separated by power saw; to
pull the loin and pass the side on for separation to backs and bellies.
The further finishing of the cuts, either immediately on separation
from the side or in an adjacent room, is a matter of space available.
Pork Cuts.—Fresh pork cuts are taken more or less from all
classes of hogs. Since the pork loin is by far the leading fresh cut,
light loin hogs are more extensively used for fresh pork than any
other class. The varying demand for loins determines to a
considerable extent the method of cutting other classes of hogs from
time to time. Tenderloins and spareribs are also primarily fresh cuts.
Skinned shoulders, shoulder butts, hams, bellies, fat backs, and raw
leaf fat are sold fresh to a small extent.

Skinned Ham. Second Brand. First Brand. Third Brand.

FIG. 113—SHORT CUT HAMS.

FIG. 114.—SMOKED SHORT CUT HAMS—FIRST BRAND.

The grading of pork cuts is complex since it involves their quality,

shape, proportions of fat and lean, and weight. Many of the grade
names refer merely to different methods of cutting and curing; but
since they are applied only to cuts of specified quality, thickness or
weight, the grades are in reality based on the latter factors to a large
extent. The various cuts differ considerably as to methods of
grading; consequently an adequate explanation of the factors
involved and their relative importance can be presented only by
describing the grades of each class.
Hams.—Hams are of two general kinds, short-cut and long-cut.
The former are made from comparatively fat, plump hams, trimmed
short and round at the butt, and the shank cut off at the hock joint.
They are sold either as Regular Short-Cut, Skinned, or Boneless
Rolled Hams. Long-cut hams are lean, long hams, with the butt left
full and the foot taken off at the first joint below the hock. The
principal grades are Regular Long-Cut, Stafford Cut, Manchester Cut
and Italian Cut Hams.
Short-Cut or American Cut Hams.—These are cut from the side
midway between the hench-bone and slip-bone,[A] trimmed round at
the butt, cushion[B] faced full, not undercut on the skin side, and
shank cut off in or above the hock joint. Until 1909 the Board of
Trade required that the shank be cut above the hock so as to expose
the marrow. Practically all hams are sold as sweet-pickled or smoked
meats. For regular delivery on the Chicago Board of Trade as sweet-
pickled hams, they must average, in lots, not to exceed 16 pounds,
with no ham to weigh less than 12 pounds and none to weigh over
twenty pounds. The short-cut hams is the leading ham cut and has
to a large extent taken the place of the long-cut ham in export trade.
[A] The hench-bone is the flat portion of the hip-bone that remains
attached to the socket joint of the ham when the hog is split. The slip bone
is the portion of the hip-bone that lies in contact with the back-bone near the
end of the loin.
[B] The cushion is the fat butt of the ham where the tail piece is cut off.
 FIG. 115.—BONELESS ROLLED HAMS.

Short-cut hams are graded by packers according to the brand of

smoked hams for which they are suitable. For the first brand (known
as “extra selected” or “fancy-cured” hams) they are selected for
thickness and firmness of lean meat, plump, well rounded shape,
solid, white fat or medium thickness (one to two inches on a
medium-weight ham), smooth, soft skin, bright color, small shank
and absence of bruises. The bulk of this grade weigh 10 to 16
pounds, 10 to 12 pounds being most desirable for family trade, and
14 to 16 pounds for hotels and restaurants. See Fig. 113. Second
brand or second grade hams (frequently termed No. 1’s) are
deficient in one or more of the points just mentioned, but must be
reasonably good in general quality and not exceedingly deficient in
any particular. Many of them are too fat for the first brand. The third
brand (also known as “seconds”), includes those from which a skin-
bruise has been removed, also thin, light hams and any others which
lack the shape and quality required for regular meat market trade.

Regular. Manchester. Stafford. Italian.

FIG. 116.—LONG CUT HAMS.

Short Rib. Extra Short Rib. Short Clear. Extra Short Clear.

FIG. 117.—SIDES.

Skinned Hams.—These are cut short as explained above, the skin

is removed down to the shank and the fat trimmed off within one inch
of the lean. Until 1909 the Board of Trade regulation required the fat
to be trimmed off within one-half inch of the lean. They are made
from fat hams of first and second grades, weighing from 12 to 30
pounds, but the bulk weigh 16 to 22 pounds. Many skin-bruised
hams are also skinned in order to remove bruises.