Keywords

For close to 20 years, the academic world has engaged in an intensifying debate on the place of the reflective musician in music research (e.g. Rink 1995; Strand 1998; Borgdorff and Cobussen 2007; Coessens et al. 2009; Borgdorff 2012). Sidetracked by the European academic tradition almost 200 years ago, the re-appraisal of the intellectual contribution – which in some cases can be quite distinct from the aesthetic one – of those who actually create and perform music has been at the centre of both passionately intellectual and cleverly strategic discourse. The battle has largely taken place within the sphere of higher education, where not only motives of curiosity and exploring new ground have fuelled the discussions, but also justifying workloads and addressing inequities with researchers in other disciplines in terms of acknowledging activity and rewarding excellence.

Research where the practising musician is the subject rather than the object of research is called by many names: practice-based research, creative practice as research, in research, through research …. Borgdorf argues for artistic research, which – in spite of perhaps suggesting more of a contrast with scientific research than is warranted – seems like the most sensible denominator. Whatever the exact terminology, at the core of the argument is that what reflective musicians do in pursuit of their art often consists – or at least contains elements – of research, which can be made explicit within the range of OECD definition of research and experimental development as ‘creative work undertaken on a systematic basis in order to increase the stock of knowledge, including the knowledge of man, culture and society, and the use of this stock of knowledge to devise new applications’ (OECD Factbook 2008, 42).

The case for new knowledge is relatively easy to make in relation to composition and first interpretations of new works: undeniable creative outcomes of an almost unavoidably systematic process taking into account existing knowledge (i.e. the music that already exists). But much of the OECD definition holds up for many thoughtful renditions of existing repertoire as well. For the latter, the argument is probably most clearly made from the perspective of a comparison with lab-based research: performers choose their topic (a concept or piece of music), may proceed to do literature research (into scores or historical practice), then withdraw to their lab (the rehearsal studio), to emerge after a predetermined period of time (marked by the performance or recording date) with a product that reflects hundreds or even thousands of well-thought through – or split-second – decisions, which are largely grounded in a vast frame of reference.

Some of the references are quite tangible (manuscripts, critical editions, historical sources, scholarly works on performance practice); others exist in form of raw data (discarded phrasings on the cutting floor of the studio), or in the largely under-researched principle database for any creative musician, which I have referred as the music researcher’s ‘aural library’, which, for a mature musician, would very conservatively consist of 20,000–50,000 h of listening, learning, and playing (Schippers 2007), including consulted or remembered recordings in private collection and libraries and performances; learned, acquired and developed values; and the experience and assessment of audience reactions. Such similarities challenge continuing constructs on what constitutes ‘real research’ in contrast to what musicians do. As Dewey stated almost 70 years ago, ‘the odd notion that an artist does not think and a scientific enquirer does nothing else is the result of converting a difference of tempo and emphasis into a difference in kind’ (1934, 15).

Therefore, I would argue that the fact that this type of research is only now gaining recognition is not due to any flaws in its claim to research status. It has quite straightforward historical reasons. As I have argued elsewhere, after music being closely associated with mathematics as a university discipline in the Middle Ages (Cooke Carpenter 1955), the recalibration of universities in the nineteenth century featured a somewhat contrived search for a position for music in science-based university environments. This resulted in a system placing musicology within academia, with a focus on analysis, organology, and history on one hand (cf. Adler 1885), and practice-based training outside academia, in conservatoires, Musikhochschulen and Academies de Musique. A decisive moment came with Von Humboldt cementing the artificial divide between musicology and musical practice like an early Berlin Wall in the 1820s (Krebs et al. 2005). With this binary division, the reflective musicians effectively became invisible in the research sphere for 150 years.

While the second half of the twentieth century began to put the performer on the ‘academic map’, it did so in a predominantly traditional manner, using historical research methods and disseminating its results in academic journals and books. Initially much of the focus centred on what is now commonly termed ‘historically informed performance’ (e.g. Parrott and Da Costa 2002). This raised questions of the performer’s hermeneutic relation to the musical ‘text’, and the (im)possibility of producing a truly ‘authentic performance’. Throughout the 1990s, much of the scholarly attention in this field focussed on this score/interpretation relationship – the most obvious example being Taruskin’s Text and Act (1995; cf Rink 1995). Coming full circle from Herbart’s nineteenth century view that musical sound was an almost irrelevant by-product of the score (Daverio 2003), Bowen went so far as to argue that there is ‘no way to study the structure of a musical work’ (1999, 436) (the score itself not constituting the ‘music’ as such), what can be done, however, is to ‘study the changing structure of the music in performance’ (ibid).

While some music researchers have begun to recognise and study the vital role of the performer to the practice of Western art music (e.g. Bazzana 1997; Philip 2004) and a number of musicians (e.g. Barenboim, Gardiner, Gould, Rattle; and in Australia, Grabowsky, Tognetti, Dean) have maintained a high intellectual as well as a prominent performing profile, the dichotomy between those that create music and those that perform it has hardly altered since Von Humboldt. For instance, in the most authoritative reference work for music research, Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, the category of performers hardly features in the 29 volumes of its 2001 hard copy edition, or even in its more regularly updated online version Grove Online (Root 2012). Entries labelled ‘musician’ in this resource overwhelmingly refer to composers; performers occupy only a fraction of the content, and their entries tend to be brief and lacking in academic depth.

Consequently, I would describe artistic research not as a new discipline, but rather as a correction for errant ways of the past (much as I – perhaps controversially – position, for example, gender studies and postcolonial studies primarily as efforts to adjust research approaches which lacked these perspectives for historical reasons; but that is a different discussion).

The tension of the perceived divide between scholarship and musicianship has been brought to the fore by the progressive inclusion of conservatoire training in universities over the past six decades: in the UK and the US since the Second World War (Cook 1998), increasingly across mainland Europe since the Bologna declaration (EU 1999; AEC 2010), and in Australia since the reforms by Dawkins (1988). In the UK, the Research Assessment Exercise (RAE; and its sequel the Research Excellence Framework, REF) fuelled the debate. In the EU, the discussions on shaping the second and third cycle forced a reconsideration of what conservatoires do in terms of research (AEC 2010). In Australia, after Strand’s major contribution to the debate (1998), it has intensified with the discussions on the research assessment exercises RQF and now ERA (ARC 2012).

While some of these efforts can be seen as attempts to fit the round peg of music into a square academic hole (such as Strand’s amusing equivalence of a composition of less than 20 min with a journal article, and one over 20 min with a book), for every step back, I’d say we’ve made several forwards: conceptually, strategically, and particularly in terms of coming to terms with appropriate research processes and products.

While support is growing for research products taking the form of performances and/or multimedia outputs, this presents specific challenges. Performances may represent outcomes, but do not necessarily elucidate the process, which has widely been seen as a problem in recognising artistic research for over a decade (e.g. AHRC 2003). While Strand observed that it is ‘simpler to find parallels in process than in product’ (1998, 34), this is rarely made explicit, and often obscured by a multiple agenda. Unlike conference presentations, journal articles, and academic books, most creative outputs are not produced with the sole purpose of disseminating research – performances, opera productions and compositions have different primary functions (as indeed may the work by those engaged in architecture, medicine or law).

Consequently, the research component may not be obvious prima facie. Two very similar recitals or opera performances may have very dissimilar research components: one may constitute a major innovation in terms of form or format or (re)interpretation, while the other may conform to well-established conventions. Either or both may represent high-level and critically acclaimed art. Although much music-making involves research, the latter does not necessarily qualify all music-making as research. Not every rehearsal is a research project, nor are all performances necessarily research outcomes. There is also the danger of confusing artistic quality with research quality. While we would expect a correlation, it is quite possible to imagine a thorough research process that would lead to an artistically disappointing outcome, or a highly pleasing performance where it is difficult to trace a significant research component. We can compare this to medical research: decades of excellent dedicated research has not led to cures for cancer or the common cold, while the beneficial effects of penicillin and Viagra were discovered more or less by accident.

In terms of disseminating research, the non-linear nature of the performance process lends itself well to developing innovative formats. Building on a number of DVD-ROMs highlighting musical performance aimed at a general audience, Emmerson’s Around a Rondo (2006) still stands out for its depth and honesty in connecting performances, rehearsals, annotated scores, historical sources and personal reflections into a non-linear research document on the art of interpretation which allows the reader/listener multiple pathways through 2,000 files and 5,000 hyperlinks to reconstruct the artistic process and all that entails. While initially, some in academia may frown on submissions which integrate creative product and reflection in such a way, I suspect a time may come in the near future when it becomes almost indefensible to submit text-only theses where creative practice is the focus of the research.

It is naïve to think that the progress over the past two decades is purely based on advances in insight. The increase in acknowledging artistic practice as research over the past 15 years is driven as much by political and equity reasons (i.e. resolving the problem that musicians as academics can call what they do research in environments of increasing accountability) as for intellectual reasons: out of profound curiosity to rigorously question creative processes across practices and genres.

Driven more by the latter than the former, in addition to a number of fiercely independent thinkers, three main centres for practice at the core of research have emerged over the past 5 years: the Centre for Musical Performance as Creative Practice led by John Rink from Cambridge (as a sequel to Nicholas Cook’s CHARM at Royal Holloway), funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Board, focussing primarily on research into practice rather than practice-based research; the Orpheus Institute, at the centre of a European network of institutions, with a strong intellectual approach centering around practitioners, and the international DocArtes program for practice-based research in musical arts; and Queensland Conservatorium Research Centre at Griffith University (where I am based), now in its tenth year of building material and track record for understanding what goes on ‘Behind the music’ through a cluster of research projects leading primarily to creative outputs, and hosting a strong cohort of practice-based doctoral students.

While we see excellent work emerging from each of these centres – and elsewhere – there is also much work that is still quite tentative. It is useful to realise that we are working in a sub-discipline that is still in its early years. In spite of a number of recent and forthcoming publications, the methodologies and key parameters are sketched rather than defined. This is clear from the varying quality of the growing number of doctoral programs across the globe: some barely move beyond perfecting technique and expanding repertoire, while others are celebrations of profound intellectual engagement with performance practice.

In developing responses to these challenges, there are many questions worth pursuing. Which components and ‘clusters’ of decision-making within the artistic process leading to a music performance represent research as ‘the creation of new knowledge and/or the use of existing knowledge in a new and creative way’ (ARC 2012, 10)? What is the balance between the final artistic outcomes of such processes as ‘mere’ aesthetic products, and these outcomes as ‘texts’ that express the research results per se? What formats are appropriate for the dissemination of such knowledge? How can the research components in musical practice best be approached on a par with outputs in other disciplines to measure and assess research quantity and quality at university, federal and international level? Can this lead to a single and equitable reporting format for music academics, replacing the current multitude of cumbersome and irreconcilable requirements? In which manner can greater insight into the research component of artistic processes inform the education and training of performing musicians, including professional doctorates, Masters, and undergraduate curricula?

If we are to establish artistic research as a mature and broadly respected (sub)discipline, there is a pressing need to be critical ourselves in marrying creative integrity and academic rigour, lifting our discourse and actions beyond the rhetoric that has dominated much of the recent debate for strategic reasons. There is no structural problem: the challenge is to robustly position this type of research in the academic landscape, and to define its parameters and processes more precisely. That requires self-critical, nuanced, collaborative work. Through systematic, practice-based study of artistic processes from concept to performance, there is the opportunity to test innovative methodologies and deliver frameworks that brings greater clarity in the field of artistic practice as research for the benefit of practice-based researchers, research students, and institutions. That is groundbreaking, exploratory, and exciting work: exactly what research should be all about.