My research was a participatory method of enquiry which allowed me to creatively explore young disabled people’s ideas around youth, adulthood, disability, and how we could becoming-in-the-world-together (Shildrick, 2009). In the 1970s there was a shift in ethnographic thinking; emphasis moved from participant observation, to the observation of participation (Ellis & Bochner, 2000; Tedlock, 2000). Largely feminist voices (Ellis & Bochner, 2000) argued that ethnographic observation was not enough, and ethnographers needed to participate in the cultures they were studying (Davis, 2000; Oakley, 1981). Although all my research contexts demanded different methods, the various forms of participation came together to form my larger ethnographic project. At the end of the research period, I was left with the following:
Explore:
1. Six ‘Reports from the Future’ 2. Two ‘A Day in the Life’ timelines 3. Six final art pieces
4. Four recorded and transcribed ‘newsflash’ interviews 5. Six recorded and transcribed informal interviews 6. 27 pages of my own research notes and reflections YF:
1. 139 photos from the cameras workshop
2. Five beginnings of posters from the first time travelling workshop 3. Eleven nearly-finished posters from the second time travelling workshop 4. A transcript from each workshop
5. 29 postcards of annoying things to be left in the past 6. 10 postcards of good things to take to the future 7. 14 pages of my own research notes and reflections Colin:
8. Two transcribed interviews/conversations (3 hours in total) Iceland:
9. 87 A4 pages of handwritten ethnographic research notes
10. A co-written paper between Embla, Freyja and I (Slater, Ágústsdóttir, & Haraldsdóttir, 2012)
150
Explore
Fieldwork with Explore was the first to begin. Like in all contexts, I valued to process of research, time spent imagining with and chatting to young people, as much, if not more, than their final art pieces. With Explore, the process of making final art pieces included the creation of other artwork: ‘Reports from the Future’ and ‘Day in the Life’ timelines which young people used to think-through their ideas. Like in the other two contexts, however, I also relied strongly on my research diary as a means of both creating and reflecting upon data (Richardson, 1998). Charmaz (2000, 514) writes that
“[ethnographic] data are narrative constructions (Maines, 1993). They are reconstructions of experience; they are not the original experience itself”. I used my research diary to construct narratives of my experiences in Explore.
Drawing on Glaser and Strauss (1967), Richardson (1998) suggest categorising field notes as observational notes (ONs), methodological notes (MNs), theoretical notes (TNs) and personal notes (PNs). My approach to note making was more fluid. I used my
research diary as a ‘stream of consciousness’. Thorne’s description of his field note writing process resonates:
“Field notes… have a private and intimate character; one can innovate, make false starts, flare up with emotions without feeling an anonymous audience at one’s shoulder… As I write field notes, I push for full description, avoiding sociological jargon, staying close to what I saw, while letting my imagination roam around the event, searching for patterns.”
(Thorne cited in Richardson, 1998, 345/5)
Explore took place on a Wednesday between 4pm and 6pm. I would arrive around 3pm to the café next door. Here I would buy a coffee, open my notepad and record my thoughts and feelings about the session. Although I did not ‘code’ it as such, perhaps these notes were close to Richardson’s (1998, 365) PNs: “feelings statements about the research, the people I am talking to, myself doing the process, my doubts, my anxieties, my pleasures. I do no censoring here at all.” In fact, I did no censoring at any stage of writing my research diary; the censoring came when I considered making my research diary public. As I outlined above in regards to my ethical dilemmas in Iceland, it was at this point I decided what I wanted to in/exclude (Ellis, 2007); checking the notes for anonymity; and considering how they could be made presentable to an academic audience (Ellis & Bochner, 2000).
151 After a session with Explore I would return to the café and note more thoughts. Although not coded as such, these were arguably a mixture of Richardson’s (1998) PNs and ONs. They would include ‘thick description’ (Geertz, 1993) and would be “as concrete and detailed as I [was] able to make them […] fairly accurate renditions of what I see, hear, feel, taste, and so on” (Richardson, 1998). Occasionally at this point I would begin to link things up with literature: jotting down avenues I should follow up through reading. Generally, however, it would not be until the next morning that this task would begin. Over breakfast, I would go back over my notes, recording TNs: “hunches, hypotheses, poststrucuralist connections, critiques of what I am doing/thinking/seeing” (Richardson, 1998, 365). Often, this would mean moving away from the A5 constraints of my research diary to larger pieces of paper and coloured pens which allowed physical links to be drawn. I would take both my camera and Dictaphone along to Explore sessions. When these had been used I would look back through the pictures of artwork I had taken the day before, listen to and transcribe interviews. If I thought it was useful, I would print off pictures or sections of transcription, sticking them in and amongst recordings from my fieldwork diary. Data redecorated the walls of my flat.
YF and Colin
I similarly relied on (a different) research diary with YF. The process would work along the same lines as with Explore, recording my thoughts and feelings both before and after workshops (PNs and ONs, if you like) and then going back over them the next morning to jot down theoretical links (TNs). In ethnography, analysis is an on-going, iterative process, which begins from day one (Charmaz, 2000). As there was overlap between the times I was conducting Explore and YF fieldwork links began to be made between the two projects; the pieces of paper got bigger, and the redecoration of my flat more intense.
In the two futures workshops there was a host of additional material to deal with. I found it useful to transcribe video recordings; and did this over the couple of days subsequent to workshops. Similarly, I transcribed the interviews I had with Colin. The process of transcription meant an active process of going back and forth through the data (Mason, 1996). For me, the more passive process of watching the videos back would not have achieved the same immersion in data, as my attention would have wandered. Moreover, transcription meant I was able to print out, physically cut up and move around sections of transcription as themes emerged (addressed below). In the case of the first futures
152 workshop, where the postcards activity took place (see Figure 6), I typed all the
annoyances and alternative future ideas into a word document. Although I experimented with ‘Stickynotes’ software, I found it more useful to copy the postcards onto physical ‘stickynotes’ and stick onto transcriptions.
Iceland
My research diary was relied upon most heavily in Iceland, resulting in 87 A4 pages of handwritten ethnographic research notes. My routine on a morning was to head straight to my local pool. Icelanders tell me their outdoor geothermal-heated pools are the
equivalent to the British pub; places not for swimming, but meeting and socialising; to be the public house philosopher, minus the intoxication. For me, the pool was the place to collect my thoughts on how research was going, and, on return, jot these down over breakfast. I often recorded in my research diary several times more each day, reflecting on a specific event, writing down an analytical point or link with literature that had not previously occurred. Here my recordings were most fluid and unstructured; getting messier as I drew links to both literature and UK data. Again although I did not code my notes as such, visible on reflection are a stream of PNs, ONs, TNs, and more-so than in other research contexts, also MNs: “messages to myself regarding how to collect “data,” – who to talk to […], and so on” (Richardson, 1998, 365). This can be seen in the quote from my research diary below which I have retrospectively annotated:
Charmaz (2000) tells us that data coding is a way to organise data so not to be
overwhelmed by it. Furthermore, it is a way to keep the researcher studying their data: to keep that data alive. Although I did not use coding, I was aware that valuable snippets could be lost in the vast amounts of data generated through my writing and reflections PN
TN ON
MN
“Everything’s so overwhelming… I’m learning so much, but must be missing so much too – bloody language barriers. The girls group was frustrating. But yet fascinating when Embla translated for me - should read Garland Thomson (2002) thing about inadvertent activism again . Also talk to Embla about feminist-disability theory – see what she thinks of RGT/ if shes’ read anything interesting. How different is the girls group Freyja and Embla run to YF? Both activist, but Iceland group more about role models – more chance to think outside of disability, inadvertent activism? Yet similar discussions – we’re the same as everyone else! Links with normative youth literature? – Anna’s [girl from group] comment from the other day – disabled people should do the educating OF COURSE! (look at 7th March notes)”
153 (Richardson, 1998). Each Friday in Iceland I would therefore go back through my notes from that week. On a separate piece of paper I would jot down things that remained significant, pointing myself to particular days and events, which I physically
bookmarked. This piece of paper would then be stuck into the back of my research diary. As well as a daily/hourly account running through the front was a week-by-week
recording of my time running along the back.
As already made clear, the ONs in my research diary were my versions of events, (often) recorded from memory, as I had seen them. As soon as any event is recorded is it
abstracted form its original source (Charmaz, 2000; Denzin, 1998; Silverman, 2000). In Iceland, however, stories recorded were often translated accounts. There was arguably an additional level of abstraction. In Chapters Seven and Eight you will see that sometimes my research diary included stories told to me in English by Embla or Freyja, about a conversation they had had with another person. Sometimes I wrote my own dialogues, formed out of stories I was told, as these seemed to represent situations more clearly (Richardson, 1998). Even when an event happened in my presence, I was sometimes reliant on immediate translation or subsequent retellings. This could be considered a weakness in my approach to data collection (Mr Reasonable, I am sure, would think so). However, as Denzin (1998, 319) writes: “the Other who is presented in the text is always a version of the researcher’s self”. My story of another’s story, I argue, is not so different from other ethnographical accounts, albeit that I make the process of abstraction clear. In ethnography “the researcher composes the story” (Charmaz, 2000, 522). I recorded stories as I saw and heard them. Nevertheless, as detailed in the section of ethics and friendships above, I tried to ensure representations were considered fair by Embla and/or Freyja. This was not to seek any truth or objectivity, but in order to treat stories, and participants, with the respect they deserved.