Laura Barrett is a playful polymath, an intellectual romantic and a Torontonian born and bred. She is best known as a songwriter and multi-instrumentalist with solo recordings on Paper Bag Records, but somehow she also finds time to perform in an all-female Weezer cover band appropriately dubbed Sheezer, as a sometimes member of the Hidden Cameras and (full disclosure, my band) Henri Fabergé and the Adorables. To add to her already busy schedule, she is pursuing a Master's degree in teaching at OISE, a program combining teacher certification and a qualitative research paper in a subject of her choosing. She is investigating how teachers invite their students to engage in creative work.
Henri Fabergé: What are you learning about
creativity in your research?
Laura Barrett: The research specifies two criteria
for a product or work to be considered creative: novelty and appropriateness.
And this is the thing: "novel" you can define, you know it when you
see it, something is new, no matter how mundane. But the
"appropriate" aspect, that is obviously up for debate. It has a lot
to do with issues of taste.
HF: Do you think your approach to
teaching in general has been affected by your experiences as an artist? In your
work as a songwriter and performer you challenge certain established truths...
LB: I don't think you need to run
counter to established truths to make good art, there is good art that speaks
to things that are very true and eternal. I'm specifically positioning my paper
as an extension of what Sir Ken Robinson talks about regarding divergent
thinking---how do we encourage divergent thinking and innovation,
because we don't know what our children or our students are going to need in
the future. So it's best to get them being as dynamic and resourceful as
possible, and best to give them a range of stimuli, an atmosphere of
openness, an ease of expression. Where that runs into problems is, do you have
any real authority as a teacher? What if these creative acts are antisocial,
anti-authority? Are they dissent beyond what is reasonable?
HF: So you would like to keep your
intellectual activism out of teaching.
LB: No, I think it can be part and
parcel. Granted, you are part of a public system that is funded by the
government. It's a public trust, a great honour and a great pressure to manage
thousands of micromoments, ethical and psychological and moral and cognitive
and physical. Classroom teaching may not be my final destination. I might
continue in research and get my PhD in Applied Psychology and Human
Development.
HF: And has studying to be a teacher
affected the way that you approach your artwork?
LB: I don't think music and teaching
share the same drive. Music is something that is very much for me, it's very
self-interested, and teaching is something that I have to remove my ego from as
much as possible without preventing myself from doing a good job. It's not my
attitudes that I want to be inculcating in these children; I want them to be
asking me lots of questions, I want them to be interested in exploring, I want
them to love learning. I can't even necessarily preach things that I think are
universally sound, because preaching is the surest way to get people to turn
off, unless they're already in the temple. They have to find things
themselves.
HF: I guess I meant, in terms of
communicating ideas to an audience or at least communicating ways of
understanding or modes of thinking, has that changed the way you view the music
you're writing, or the performing you're doing?
LB: I think the main distinction
between art and teaching lies in the kinds of information you're trying to
transmit, though I don't mean to use the word "transmit" to describe
my teaching practice. It implies a container model of learning: “This stuff is
in my head, and it goes to your head, and I’ve taught you.” Whereas in reality
you should be knowledge-building, you should be engaging in critical thought
and building a world of knowledge for yourself. To a certain extent you need
some mentor or guide who has more pre-existing knowledge and then the job of a
really good teacher is to get the kid to start thinking like a scientist or a
philosopher so that they can build knowledge long after you're gone. Some of
the philosophy I’m thinking about when it comes to teaching has definitely made
its way into my lyrical content, but I'm not approaching art-making in any
different way. Music becomes my escape, a refuge, not necessarily done for
money.
HF:
If it was a possibility to be a professional musician would you have
trouble with that, because it would no longer be your escape?
LB: I have a lot of difficulties
reconciling art-making with money-making. I would rather money not be the
deciding factor in my musical development. I think it's worth money, I think it
has value, and I guess I could be Laura Barrett: musician, composer, writer...
but I don't think I could ever do one thing for the rest of my life, that's
really what it comes down to. Laura Barrett: can’t keep still.
HF: As an artist would you want to have
the ear of the entire world, or are you happy to perform to whoever happens to
be in the room?
LB: Do I have a right to have a
conversation with the whole world? What do I have to say that is worth hearing
by the whole world? No one does. Maybe the Dalai Lama.
HF Well, would you prefer a large
audience that has flocked to come and see music they are already familiar with,
or a small audience where you can see that change in perception during that
creative conversation?
LB: A small audience. Because that is
me going viral very slowly. Maybe the contagion metaphor is not that pleasant.
When artists get picked up by major labels or appear on some TV show, that
results in a big leap in their audience, I find that very interesting. But building a relationship with my audience
is an organic process that I don't want to rush. Our whole conversation has been one of
size, really, the realm of influence. Teaching is like a series of small
concerts, with one crucial distinction: you certainly don't want your students
to be focused on your performance, but rather their own.
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