Mark Turpin: Aritst

I am a descendant of settlers on this land and acknowledge that I live on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territory of the ​kʷikʷəƛ̓əm First Nation. I am deeply grateful to, and offer my respect for, all Coast Salish Nations who have been stewards of the ​land where I live, work, and play. I also extend my respect to all Indigenous Nations who continue to endure and lead Canada on ​the important journey towards Truth and Reconciliation. May Indigenous cultures, languages, and traditions never disappear ​but instead serve as a beacon of light to guide all creation into the future.

I chose the aesthetic of this website intentionally. The vintage font set, beige background, and barbed wire dividers were selected ​to reflect not only my own aesthetic preferences but also my emerging views on art-making and education. As arts educators, we ​sometimes have to be conscientious disruptors, advocating for the arts in ways that challenge the status quo. Often, as artists, we ​find ourselves in exile or otherwise outcast from a society that desperately needs more art, not less. Despite all the challenges we ​face, we persist. This persistence is one of the things that makes art so beautiful. No amount of barbed wire or social rejection will ​ever stop art-making, and as long as there are passionate artists and educators, brilliant artists will continue to emerge. Just like ​those signs on houses with large dogs that read 'Beware of Dog,' this is a call of solidarity, celebration, and encouragement.

Beware of Artist!

Rhythm of life

“Celebrate that you are always called once again to your first ​love, the body you have and are.”

- Celeste Snowber, Embodied inquiry: Writing, living and being through.

the body, 2016

EDUC 843: Embodiment and Curriculum Inquiry was a ​fantastic course to start this masters program. The entire ​course was filled with wonderfully enlightening moments, but ​the “re-membering” of my body is what will likely shape my ​life and practice most profoundly in the long run. While my ​body seemed fully aware of its stored memories, my mind was ​blissfully unaware. The moments of connection between my ​body and mind were profound. It was not only an important ​discovery for me but also highlighted the significance of the ​body-mind connection for my students.

As a young lad, I was very athletic, especially in soccer. I ​competed at a fairly high level and absolutely devoured every ​opportunity to play. As I grew older and developed skills that ​set me apart from other players, I had the chance to hone these ​skills with specialized coaches in the hopes that doors would ​open and opportunities would arise. Unfortunately, by my ​senior years in high school, it became clear that my journey ​toward becoming a professional athlete was filled with ​negativity. Despite being an optimist, I became aware of the ​odds of success. I decided to pivot to my other passion: ​performing arts. I have always loved music and theater, and ​pursuing this path was far more positive for me. With a love for ​musical theater but no dance training in my childhood, I found ​that tap dancing came easiest to me. The combination of ​musical rhythms and coordinated footwork seemed natural. ​My first large-scale musical outside of school heavily featured ​tap dancing, and I was thrilled to be cast, as it allowed me to ​develop my skills further. Whether practicing soccer, ​performing music, or tap dancing, I was always aware of my ​body’s internal rhythm. I had the good fortune of being cast in ​other musicals that heavily feature tap dancing. While ​working through my undergrad, moving into teaching, and ​starting a family, I stopped listening to my rhythm. I gained a ​regrettable amount of weight, and my body no longer ​performed as it used to. When invited into a somatic practice, ​walking became the path of least resistance, both literally and ​figuratively. While walking, the internal rhythm began pulsing ​back into my consciousness. As late summer shifted into a wet ​and cold fall, my somatic practice shifted from outdoor ​walking to indoor tap dancing. It was a wonderful awakening. I ​was once again tuning my body to my internal rhythms as well ​as the external rhythms of the world around me.

bodygraphy

Promotional photograph of Royal City Musical Theatre’s production of ​42nd Street in 2007 (I am on the tall one on the right)

Projected video and soundscape used in my Bodygraphy

For my bodygraphy project, I performed a semi-improvised tap dance with a soundscape and projection. The musical ​soundscape was created using sounds that emerged from my somatic practices of walking and tap dancing. The ​performance was meant to demonstrate how our lives and bodies function when we synchronize with the rhythms of the ​world around us, and how everything can collapse when our bodies either break the rhythm or cannot keep up.

The soundscape started with a ticking clock that eventually gave way to music. The musical rhythms were consistent and ​regular, but as the piece progressed, several pieces of music overlapped with no discernible beat. This created a feeling of ​chaos and a lack of control. The dancing became very erratic until it all just collapsed into silence. The clock then ticked ​again, giving way to Claude Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.” In this section, peace was once again achieved by slowing the ​rhythm down.

When Claude Debussy’s “Clair de lune” began to play, I read a poem that I wrote for this performance:

There is a rhythm to the life inside us

And there is a rhythm to the life that surrounds us

When these two rhythms are not in sync

It is when we feel as though life

Is at its most difficult.

A clock ticks, and a second passes

A minute

An hour

86,400 seconds in a day

That is the timer of life

The BUSINESS of life.

Our heart beats to a rhythm.

The rhythm of our heart is not fixed, but rather like the blood it ​pumps, it’s rhythm is fluid.

Excitement, excursion, fear, anger, sadness, laughter… all of these ​increase our heart rate.

Relaxation, rest, breathing, pause, observation, meditation, yoga, ​these things decrease our heart rate.

That is the LIFE of life.

Observe the time, synchronize the rhythm and experience the

LIFE of life.

Rather than synchronizing our lives to the rhythm around us, ​synchronize the rhythm around us to our lives.

Invitation to create

Creating a Proposition; an inviting condition for research-creation.

Research - for - Creation

Research - from - Creation

Creation - as - Research

EDUC 848: Ideas and Issues in Aesthetic Education was a very artistically and intellectually satisfying course as an ​A/R/Tographer. Having the opportunity to engage in rich readings paired with practical activities led by our classmates really ​brought the learning to life in a meaningful way. In addition to creating my own proposition, I was fortunate to explore ​creativity with my reading group. As a theatre artist, I was particularly inspired by the research surrounding 'swarm ​intelligence' and its relevance to art making and, just as importantly, art education.

Swarm Intelligence

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Through the Creativity presentation on Swarm Intelligence, I ​was able to further understand how art can be highly ​collaborative, even in visual art disciplines that are often seen ​as solitary. In my own practice, I examined how my teachers ​and the artists I admire have significantly influenced me. ​This is the essence of swarm intelligence: we learn from and ​inspire each other. In the most literal sense of swarm ​intelligence, I think of a collaborative art like live theater, ​where many creators work towards a common goal, often ​reaching a place that none of the collaborating artists could ​have achieved or even expected to reach on their own. In a ​more abstract sense, swarm intelligence encompasses all the ​ways we are influenced by those who came before us and ​those who inspire us.

Proposition

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For my Proposition, I will allow my essay to speak for itself. ​At the time of publication of this portfolio I am still yet to ​create art based on the proposition I have presented, but my ​intention is to continue to explore abandoned places and be ​available to the stories that arise, and to create theatrical art ​as a result.

click on image above to view essay

Artist in exile

“The dealings with artists, for instance, require great prudence; ​they are acquainted with all classes of society, and for that very ​reason dangerous”

-From a letter written by King Leopold I of Belgium to his niece Queen ​Victoria of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland

EDUC 849: Artists, Society, and Arts Education provided fertile ground for emerging concepts that had an immediate and ​lasting impact on my practice as an artist, scholar, and teacher. Themes such as 'What is Art, and Who are Artists,' 'Artists in ​Open vs. Closed Societies,' 'The Importance of Liminal Spaces,' and 'The Responsibility of Art Educators to Pass on Knowledge ​and Wisdom to Future Artists' were all highly provocative and engaging. In particular, it was within this course that I ​developed the idea that artists can be, and in some ways should be, a challenge to the status quo.

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My interest in artists working in exile was originally sparked in October 2014 when I ​listened to a CBC Radio program called 'Q,' with interim host Piya Chattopadhyay. In ​this particular episode, Chattopadhyay interviewed Natalia Kaliada, the exiled artistic ​director of the Belarus Free Theatre. I was completely captivated by the story of how ​Kaliada and her husband continued to operate the theatre using Skype and other ​means while in exile in the U.K. The importance of the art and her dedication to ​producing it is inspiring.

A curiosity to continue the exploration of artists in exile inspired a ​group inquiry about Social Imaginary - Art in Closed Societies. I ​worked on this project with four other cohort colleagues: Steve, ​Veronica, Rainee, and Jasmine. Rainee and Jasmine provided ​valuable perspectives, having been raised in and later immigrating ​from communist China. Their deep insights and observations into ​the differences between art-making in Canada and China made for a ​profoundly enlightening project. The contrasts they highlighted ​between the freedoms and restrictions faced by artists in these two ​societies brought a new level of understanding to our study. This ​project not only broadened my view of art in different political ​contexts but also deepened my appreciation for the resilience and ​creativity of artists working under restrictive conditions.

Personal photo of “Phobia” by Junko Playtime taken on March 22, 2023

click on image above to access an article from Daily Hive

Another excellent example of the importance of artists challenging ​the status quo emerged in Vancouver during the spring of 2023 and ​became a highlight of our class discussions. A rogue artist known as ​'Junko Playtime' created a work called 'Phobia' underneath the ​overpass at Victoria and Broadway in Vancouver, right along the ​Skytrain line. The piece is a large spider made from industrial and ​mechanical scrap. Since this art was not sanctioned by the city of ​Vancouver, city officials immediately planned to take it down. Junko ​Playtime responded, saying, '...the city has no problem with all the ​garbage on the tracks but plans to spend money to remove artwork ​made from garbage that many people enjoy.' This rogue art piece ​calls into question civic priorities in a newsworthy way. The ​controversy surrounding 'Phobia' underscores the role of artists in ​challenging societal norms and prompting public discourse.

Our final composition was particularly challenging. We were asked to write a letter to a ​hypothetical young artist, inspired by the book Letters to a Young Artist, published by Darte ​Publishing in 2006. I felt a tremendous amount of responsibility writing this letter and put it ​off for a long time. When I finally sat down to write, I was surprised by how quickly the ideas ​flowed. I was really proud of what I had written and submitted the assignment at the end of the ​course on July 26th.

It wasn’t until June 8, 2024, that I received feedback on that letter. Michael thought it would be ​a neat exercise to provide the feedback almost a full year later, when those of us who were ​first-years when we originally wrote the letters would be back in his summer course as ​second-years. Receiving the feedback was both illuminating and gratifying, but I have to admit ​that I hadn’t looked at the piece since submitting it. The feedback prompted me to revisit the ​composition, and I was pleased to feel just as strongly about what I had written a year later. I ​was proud to read the letter to my drama classes this past semester.

Being in EDUC 868 Curriculum Theory and Art Education, with Dr. Vicki Kelly was transformative for me. As a descendant of ​European settlers on a path towards truth and reconciliation, I cannot imagine a more enlightening and hospitable course for ​arts educators to experience with regards to First Peoples ways of knowing and learning than this course.

I am very proud of the métissage I created as a summative reflection of the course. I created a website for my métissage ​assignment both as a way of practicing for this final portfolio, and as an effective way of organizing and communicating my work ​through the semester. Click the image below to arrive at that website.

Indigenous Learning Models

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conscientious Disruptor

EDUC 852: Inquiry, Creativity, and Community: Drama in Education was another prolific experience. This course set me ​on a clear pathway toward becoming the artist, teacher, and scholar I aspire to be. Influential readings, including ​Stephen Nachmanovitch’s Free Play, Lynn Fels and George Belliveau’s Exploring Curriculum: Performative Inquiry, ​Role Drama, and Learning, Tricia Hersey’s Rest is Resistance: A Manifesto, and Celeste Snowber’s Dance, Place, and ​Poetics: Site-Specific Performance as a Portal to Knowing, along with many great articles, instilled in me a desire to ​create at any and all costs and to foster that necessity in our students. It was in this course that I decided to embark on a ​lifelong journey of being a conscientious disruptor, continually challenging norms and encouraging others to do the ​same.

Stop Moment Postcards

In this course one of our tasks was to produce e-postcards during appropriate ‘stop moments’. This assignment was ​inspired by research conducted by Dr. Lynn Fels

“Our lives rebound with potential stop moments, they are elusive, temporal, often noted in reflection. Our action in response, within the ​moment, may be one of sleepwalking, habitual engagement, resistance, acceptance, wide-awakeness. A stop moment that arrests and ​engages us, may reveal multiple choices of action available or new possible interpretations and understanding. A stop moment is a gift ​of risk, a gift of opportunity. A stop moment is an invitation to vulnerability, intimacy, not-knowing, undoing.

Why are stop moments important in terms of a performative research and teaching practice? By identifying and attending to stop ​moments that call us to attention, we may reflect on why these moments matter; what issues, assumptions, perspectives and practices ​(economic, political, social, communal, personal, cultural) are embodied within the stop moment; and why we chose (or failed to ​choose) to engage in a particular choice of action. A stop moment embodies pedagogical learning that is revealed through critical and ​creative reflection.”

Fels, L. (2015). Performative inquiry: Reflection as a Scholarly Pedagogical Act. Playing in a House of Mirrors, 151-174.

I decided to create postcards that were double sided, and formatted like physical postcards. Below are the postcards I ​produced.

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an enlarged version

Understanding the child within

Stephen Nachmanovitch’s Free Play is an authoritative text that every artist should read, and re-read through out their ​journey as a performer. While I believe I will gain new insight into a variety of topics with each reading, the idea that ​stood out to me during the course that was of the utmost importance was regarding approaching art with a child-like ​innocence. I had the good fortune of working with a reading group that facilitated an activity inspired by reading Free ​Play. I collaborated with Veronica, Clara, Wahkee, and Rainee.

Our purpose as a group was to invite our peers into an exploration of play in which we would use toys to try and awaken ​the child-like playfulness within us that we all accessed frequently as children. We wanted to create a space which was ​completely open, in which anything can come into being. A space full of possibilities, in which participants choose their ​own direction. We invited our peers to play with childrens toys, many of which were provided by Veronica who retrieved ​toys from her own childhood. We then wanted to see if our peers would let go of the societal confines of the university ​classroom, and awaken their inner child by just playing with the toys and seeing what emerged.

We were inspired by our rich conversations about play, the readings we did for the course, and other knowledge that we ​have through our artistic and scholarly practice.

There is a point, or rather a long series of points, at which our innocence and free play of imagination and desire collides with reality, ​with the limits of is and is not, with the limits of what can and cannot be.

-Nachmanovitch, S. (1991). Free play: Improvisation in life and art. Penguin. Pg 124-125

It can sometimes be a heartbreaking struggle for us to arrive at a place where we are no longer afraid of the child inside us. We often ​fear that people won’t take us seriously, or that they won’t think us qualified enough. For the sake of being accepted, we can forget our ​source and put on one of the rigid masks of professionalism or conformity that society is continually offering us.

- Nachmanovitch, S. (1991). Free play: Improvisation in life and art. Penguin. Pg 51

From the initial discussions around the transitions from innocence to experience and free play of the imagination, when ​do we enter the realm of adulthood and start feeling shame? Can we navigate with ease between creativity and ​conformity, accepting play of the imagination without feelings of dread and shame?

On the whole we were very impressed by the playing that our group experienced. It was wonderful to hear laughter ​booming throughout the room during our play time and to experience the wonder of all the participants. Hopefully we ​can all continue to tap into that child-like playfulness that exists deep within us all in order to find inspiration and a ​deeper connection to our own humanity.

In theatre training, there is a tremendous focus on reawakening childlike innocence. An excellent video I encountered ​upon on YouTube features an acting teacher from Los Angeles named Harry Mastrogeorge. Sadly, Mastrogeorge passed ​away in 2023, but his wisdom lives on. He speaks about the four muscles of acting, one of which is childlike innocence. ​This quality is crucial for an actor, but it is equally important in any art form. Childlike innocence and curiosity are ​paramount in artistic pursuits and must be fostered in upcoming artists. Mastrogeorge’s teachings remind us that ​maintaining this sense of wonder and openness can lead to more authentic and impactful creative expression. ​Encouraging young artists to embrace their inner child not only enriches their work but also ensures that the essence of ​creativity remains vibrant and alive.

Performative Autobiography

“It is possible to become what you are doing; these times come when pouf! – out you go and there is only the work. The intensity of your ​focused concentration and involvement maintains and augments itself, your physical needs decrease, your gaze narrows your sense of ​time stops. You feel alert and alive; effort becomes effortless. You lose yourself in your own voice, in the handling of your tools, in your ​feeling for the rules. Absorbed in the pure fascination of the game, of the textures and resistances and nuances and limitations of that ​particular medium, you forget time and place and who you are.”

Nachmanovitch, S. (1991). Free play: Improvisation in life and art. Penguin. p. 51-52

I have become very fascinated with the idea of losing oneself in the work. I have been terrifically animated by ​Nachmanovitch’s Free Play but the chapter on disappearing really resonated with me. Having had a very visceral ​experience during a performance that was then worked out with a cognitive behavioral therapist is remembered as a ​very pivotal moment in my understanding of myself as an artist and as a human. When the invitation to create a ​performative autobiography arose, and having read this chapter of Free Play, bringing that therapy session to life ​through re-enactment first entered my imagination and the realm of possibility. At first, I had thought that perhaps I ​would play dual roles of both therapist and patient, but I could not manage how that might work and I was almost ready ​to shelve the idea altogether. Through the course readings and meaningful discussions with classmates, a stronger ​possibility emerged and I was certain that I was moving in the right direction with my original idea intact.

One Tuesday morning I was driving my children to my in-law’s house before school, and my youngest had decided to ​bring her large three-foot Teddy Bear, affectionately known as “Big Teddy” along for the ride. My wife and mother-in-​law are not particularly fond of Big Teddy seeing his presence as an inconvenience and despising traveling with him ​even though he brings my daughter a great amount of joy. Big Teddy doesn’t bother me in fact I am quite fond of him as ​he represents a rich and playful spirit that my daughter embodies. Through reading Free Play, and Rest is Resistance by ​Tricia Hersey, I started thinking about playfulness and the disruption that Big Teddy causes. I appreciate that Big Teddy ​is ridiculous. He is large, and my daughter moves much slower when carrying him, which makes him an inconvenience, ​and when he is in the car, he takes up an entire seat to himself, which is also inconvenient. My daughter reminds me ​that we cannot leave until he is buckled up. When I drive with him in the car, he sits in the passenger seat next to me, ​with his seatbelt securely fastened, while my children sit with their booster seats in the back. In a discussion with my ​wife, I asserted that Big Teddy is trying to teach us to not get too wrapped up in the day-to-day minutiae of human ​existence. Big Teddy is trying to get us to slow down our work pace and get us out of “grind mentality.” Big Teddy is ​trying to show us that life is (and should be) fun, and that we ought not take ourselves too seriously. I was tickled when a ​class check-in resulted in the brilliant idea that my scene partner for my performative autobiography should be Big ​Teddy.

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video of the performance

This performative autobiography has opened my mind to the many possibilities that can arrive in the future performing ​with Big Teddy or another large, inanimate, and stuffed scene partner. I am incredibly grateful for the experience of this ​course. I am certain that I would not have been able to arrive at this scene without the rich course readings, and ​experiences in class through activities and conversations.

Sound as Story

"Anything in our world that moves vibrates air.

If it moves in such a way that it oscillates at more than about 16 times ​a second this movement is heard as sound.

The world, then, is full of sounds. Listen.

Openly attentive to whatever is vibrating. Listen.

Sit quietly for a moment and receive.”

-R. Murray Schafer, The new Soundscape: A handbook for the modern music teacher. 1969

"EDUC 869: Music Education as Thinking in Sound is a wonderful invitation to listen and tune our ears to the world ​around us. Through class activities, curated readings, videos, listening assignments, peer presentations, and rich class ​discussions, we have been deeply engaged in listening and creating sounds on a much deeper level. This course has ​challenged us to develop a heightened awareness of the sonic environment, encouraging us to explore the nuances and ​textures of sound in ways we had not considered before. By honing our listening skills, we are better equipped to ​appreciate and create music with greater sensitivity and insight, making this experience invaluable for our growth as ​musicians, artists, and educators.

Autobiography in three songs

We were challenged to present an autobiography consisting of only three songs. I found this exercise incredibly ​difficult. As I worked through the assignment, I initially selected over twenty songs that could have fit into my personal ​narrative, but I had to narrow it down to three. In the end, I chose songs that represented musical genres important to ​me.

Musical theatre has shaped my life significantly, and Lin Manuel Miranda represents a living legacy of musical theatre ​composers dating back to Rodgers and Hammerstein. So, I chose '96,000' from In the Heights as my first song. In the ​Heights was Miranda's first Broadway musical, and '96,000' showcases much of his distinctive style. As he continues to ​write for theatre, film, and television, his music remains terrifically original and playful, yet distinctly his own, and I feel ​'96,000' exemplifies this beautifully.

My next genre is Vocal Jazz. Jazz music, particularly Vocal Jazz, has played a large role in shaping me as a musician. I ​chose 'Centerpiece' by Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, a song I sang in my high school Vocal Jazz ensemble and still sing to ​my children more than twenty years later.

For my third genre, I chose Nostalgia. I believe memory is encased within melody. From the music I grew up listening to ​with my parents on 650 AM to late '90s pop music, I can hear a song and be transported to a moment in time. Music is a ​beautiful gift that remains when we move on to the spirit world. So, I chose 'A Change Is Gonna Come' by Sam Cooke. I ​have always loved Cooke’s music and greatly appreciate the message of hope in this song, which was not released as a ​single until after his untimely death."

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Sound as Story: Reflection

Through the enlightening journey of EDUC 869 Music Education as Thinking in Sound, my ears and awareness have ​been opened to the sonic world around me. By observing and keeping track of what I've heard, engaging in class ​activities, reading rich materials, and experiencing the beautiful sharing in class, I've reached a new level of ​understanding and appreciation of sound. Aligned with the themes of my journey in this master's program, I've arrived ​at the concept of Sound as Story. Through my work as a Drama Educator, I have discovered that story is central not just ​in my work, or in my specific medium of art making, but rather in all existence on this planet and beyond. My idea of ​Sound as Story is broken down further into four emergent sub-ideas; Sound as Creation, Sound as Experience, Sound as ​Memory, and Sound as Existence. Since story is central to the concept, I will explore these sub-ideas through narratives, ​incorporating class readings and experiences where appropriate. These ideas are evolving, and I am certain they will ​continue to develop as I progress in my practice as an arts educator and as a lifelong learner..

Sound as Creation

Music has always played an important role in my life. I was exposed to many genres of music from a very young age. My ​parents would take my brother and me to concerts, the symphony, and record stores, exposing us to a wonderful variety ​of music during our car rides.. When I was about ten years old, I was enrolled in what seemed like the obligatory piano ​lessons, which I was uninterested in at the time but wished I had continued as an adult. I held onto very basic note ​reading skills, and joined the school band when I started high school playing electric bass. I was not at the skill level as ​my peers, so I went an entire semester not playing anything and found myself failing band class. My parents were ​distraught at my failing grade, so they went to the school to meet with my teachers and an arrangement was worked out ​where I would spend some additional time, one on one with a teacher to catch up on some rudimentary skills. I ended up ​passing band class that year. I had fallen in love with theatre and had signed up for a musical theatre course the ​following year. In September the following year, my teacher approached me and said he noticed my name on the list for ​Musical Theatre and asked if I had any singing experience, I said I had not, and he recommended that I join choir. I ​joined reluctantly, but it didn’t take long before I was completely hooked. After the first concert of the year I asked if I ​could join the Vocal Jazz ensemble, and I was told it was too late in the year to join, but I was welcome to sit in on ​rehearsals. I showed up to every rehearsal and was unwilling to take no for an answer and I was integrated into the ​ensemble by the Christmas concert. In my grade 12 year I was in both Concert Choir, and Vocal Jazz, as well as the ​district honour concert choir, and the provincial honours vocal jazz ensemble. I was hooked on singing. I remained ​rooted in singing and music as I pursued post-secondary education in a theatre acting program. Singing is an essential ​skill for an actor whether they strive to pursue musical theatre or not. My focus was primarily on musical theatre. I love ​being in rehearsals, working out harmony, and one of the most thrilling moments in mounting a production is a ​rehearsal called a sitzprobe which roughly translated from German means “seated practice” but in the Musical Theatre ​context it is the first rehearsal where the cast and orchestra meet. Usually the two ensembles are seated across the room ​from each other with the music director in the middle, and the rehearsal focuses exclusively on the music and the entire ​show is sung through. Acting in musicals and the broader experience of being an actor both involve a significant ​amount of musicality. Finding a particular tone, rhythm, and cadence for a character's voice requires a great deal of ​musical sensitivity. The ability to find a particular tone, rhythm, and cadence of a character's voice requires a terrific ​amount of musicality. I often find myself in situations where I am just phonating. I love making sounds with my voice. I ​am unashamed to admit that I talk to myself. No, I am not crazy; I know there is only one person living in my headspace. ​However, I enjoy the challenge of exploring different sounds and voice types, and the best way to practice is to do it ​often. During the height of the pandemic when I was regularly wearing a facemask, missing the social connections we ​would have had with people prior to the lock down, I would often talk to myself in the grocery store. I would create a ​character voice of “the other”, and carry on conversations about what was on my list. The facemask shielded the other ​masked strangers from being able to see my face and have evidence that I was in fact talking to myself in two completely ​different voices. I strive to bring this freedom to my own practice as a Drama teacher. I want to give my students what ​was given to me, and that was a place to love creating sound. Even when I am teaching students that consider themselves ​to be ‘non-singers,’ I strive to create an environment where students feel like they can step outside of their comfort ​zones, and try experimenting with the sounds they create vocally. In “Dispelling The Myth Of The Non-Singer; ​Embracing Two Aesthetics For Singing” Louise Pascale concludes by saying

“There is much to gain for everyone in the school community when cultural and societal boundaries are broken down, ​our minds are released and our creativity enlisted. For more inclusive education, we must go beyond those boundaries ​and embrace the "multiple voices and multiple realities" that our educational communities comprise. When that occurs, ​transformation is possible and teaching and learning will be shaped and driven by imagination, inclusiveness, and ​passion.” (Pascale, 2005, p.174)

Sound as Experience

My first trip to Disneyland was in 1992, and even at six years old, I was completely hooked on the incredible themed ​experiences offered by Disney parks.. One of the foundational ways that the experience is shaped is through the sonic ​experience. At the very least, sound significantly enhances the experience for guests who are often blissfully unaware of ​how or why their experience feels so visceral. At its best, it not only enhances the experience but also sparks a curiosity ​and a desire to explore 'how they do it,' along with a deep appreciation for the thought, care, and precision involved in ​shaping the sonic aspects of the visit. After one such visit to Disneyland, my brother and I brought home a CD of Disney ​park music as a souvenir. It was as much about the memory of the experience as it was about wanting to emulate the ​experience. The following Halloween, my brother and I set up speakers close to the front door of our house and put the ​Haunted Mansion organ music on a loop so that the trick-or-treating children would hear that foreboding and eerie ​music as they approached our porch. We wanted our house to have a deeper and spookier feel than the other houses on ​our block that only strung a few lights and had the usual jack-o-lanterns on display. I am enthralled at how sound can ​transport us to different worlds. Even without knowing it, every guest and cast member at a Disney park that is exposed ​to the soundscape is engaged in an act of ‘Musicking.” Christopher Small defines musicking, the verb as “To music is to ​take part, in any capacity, in a musical performance.” He even goes as far as to say “To music is to pay attention in any ​way to a musical performance, at whatever level or quality of attention, even taking in Muzak in an elevator or ​supermarket.” (Small, 1999, p.12)

From my sound experiences through the semester, one particular experience that I will hold on to for a long time was a ​trip to the Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver to take in a performance of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra performing ​Klaus Badelt’s score of the Disney film ‘The Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl.’ I recall having a ​conversation with my brother, a film score aficionado, on the worthiness of this score getting a live performance along ​with a screening at the Orpheum. Is it the greatest film score ever? That is subjective, but the score didn’t even receive a ​nomination for an Oscar in its year. I argued that it was a great film score to perform live because it is, in my humble ​opinion, epic, and fun. The night did not disappoint. The Orpheum theatre, at more than 2,500 seats, was sold out, (I was ​there on the first of two performance nights) and the audience cheered at the combination of live music and film. I ​couldn’t help myself but to allow the rhythm to flow through my body, often tapping my foot, or raping on my leg along ​with the music. When the finale was played I was keeping the rhythm with my entire body like a rocker in a mosh-pit. It ​was truly a visceral experience. The adrenaline pulsed through me for the rest of the night and into the next day. It was ​a terrific evening of musicking.

Sound as Memory

As I was working my way through my Autobiography in three songs, I had a terrific nostalgia trip. This was an ​assignment that I struggled with because I tend to live in a world of false absolutes, and while I am completely aware of ​the task, the paradigm, and the understanding that these three songs are not set in stone and that our ‘AB in 3’ can and ​likely will change over time, I really wanted to capture my personal essence, right now, in three songs. I often found ​myself reasoning over breaking the rules because if I could have four songs I could do it. Songs like ‘Boulevard of ​Broken Dreams - Green Day’ ‘Mr. Sandman - The Chordettes’ and ‘The Show Must Go On - Queen’ were included on my ​ever growing list of songs. I thought I had done myself a favour by going later in the term, but in reality I had actually put ​more pressure on myself. Week after week, experiencing others’ presentations, that were all so excellent and ​meaningful, left me feeling stuck and incapable. I would come home from class, I would turn on YouTube on my TV, ​and watch videos the people have compiled that are the chart topping songs from any particular year. I found that ​listening to ten second snippets of songs really fun, and quite soothing to help bring me down from the excitement of the ​Tuesday night class. I enjoyed these videos so much, and the nostalgia that came along, I even started watching these ​videos in my spare time. The videos that showcased music from 1998-2004 are particularly interesting to me because of ​the way they are able to transport me through time. When Turino talks about Charles Sanders Peirce’s theory of ​‘semiotics’ he refers to a sign as “anything that is perceived by an observer which stands for or calls to mind something ​else and by doing so creates an effect in the observer.” (Turino, 2008, p. 5). I experienced vivid memories from my youth ​while listening to the music, even just snippets of songs. When I watched and listened to the video of chart topping hits ​from 2003, I was instantly brought back to my senior year of high school and my grad banquet. The link between sound ​and memory is not just isolated to music; I found other ‘sonic time-capsules’ were able to evoke strong memories. In ​my History 12 class, I was teaching the students about technological advances of the 1990’s, in particular the internet ​making its way into the average household. I played the sound of dial-up internet and in that moment I experienced ​vivid memories of my first encounters with the world wide web, and other interactions I had with computers around that ​time. I am so fascinated by the way a sonic experience is able to elicit such profound indices for memories of a time in ​one's life and the stories that emerge.

Sound as Existence

“Anything in our world that moves vibrates air. If it moves in such a way that it oscillates at more than about 16 times ​a ​second this movement is heard as sound. The world, then, is full of sounds. Listen. Openly attentive to whatever is ​vibrating. Listen. Sit quietly for a moment and receive.” (Schafer, 1969 p. 5)

In my sonic experiences this semester I have tried to maintain a keen awareness of which sounds that occur as part of ​natural biological processes, versus sounds that are created by objects crafted by the hands of humanity. I live near ​ƛ̓éxətəm (tla-hut-um) Regional Park, formerly known as Colony Farm Regional Park. On a warm night when I have the ​windows open, I can hear the most beautiful symphony of frogs emanating from the park. When given the appropriate ​attention, it is really amazing how loud it actually is. I am not a herpetologist, but I can only imagine that the sound is ​being created by perhaps hundreds of frogs living in the habitat. The sound of the frogs is usually overpowered by the ​sound of a passing car, but once the car has travelled enough distance the sound of the frogs returns. In those moments ​I am deeply aware of the naturally occurring sounds of the world, and the sounds that exist because of human ​interposition. Whether it's anthropophony, biophony, or geophony, the movement of air must oscillate to create sound, ​which means something must have happened. And if something happened, then there is a story. The answer to the old ​riddle ‘if a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’ is an absolute yes. When the tree ​falls, it most certainly creates enough vibrating air to create a sound. Just because no human is around to hear the sound ​doesn’t mean it would fall silently. However, I am equally interested in the moment before the tree fell. What had to ​happen in order for the tree to have fallen? Something had to have happened, and therefore there is a story. Anytime ​you hear a siren, there is a story. If you are hearing the drone of an air conditioner, there is a story. Stories surround us, ​and sounds are the wonderful sonic evidence of the existing narratives all around us.

It has been an enlightening semester that has sparked boundless inquiry into the sonic world around us. With all the ​rich discussions, readings, presentations, and lessons, there is so much material to unpack that it is challenging to ​synthesize the entire experience into a few pages of writing. I know that this experience will have a profound effect on ​my art and my practice as an educator. In many ways, it already has. Before the semester ended, I started experimenting ​with sound in my drama classes to create different moods or influence the theatrical work of the day. I introduced a ​'sonic warm-up' at the start of class, where I would dim the lights and play music or other sounds, allowing that moment ​to set the tone for our work. Although I've only had a small sample size to work with, this is something I want to continue ​experimenting with. I also want to encourage my students to feel free from boundaries and to embrace their creativity ​and imagination in their work. I believe that sonic interactions—through creating, experiencing, existing, and unlocking ​memory—will help them achieve this.

Final Thoughts

When I think back to September 13, 2022, I recall an uneasy feeling looming over me for most of the day. I was nervous ​about starting a new program. Would I be up to the challenge? Would I be interested in the work? Would I make friends? ​Would I like my professor? Was this the right time in my life to be pursuing a Master of Education? Many more ​questions swirled through my mind as the anticipation of the evening grew. I arrived far too early and spent the better ​part of an hour in the classroom waiting for the class to start. When Celeste walked in, I immediately felt more ​comfortable. There was something about her that was familiar. She instantly created a “pedagogy of discomfort within an ​atmosphere of hospitality.” Over the evening, I realised that I had gone to elementary and high school with her eldest son ​and recognized her from seeing her walk her boys to school in Port Moody. A terrific example of synchronicity.

It wasn’t long after that I asked a question about the syllabus. I had been in a class at UBC taught by the late great Dr. Carl ​Leggo, and I noticed his name on the reading list. So I asked Celeste if she knew Carl, and she expressed that they were ​indeed very close friends and colleagues. I wasn’t surprised; Celeste's teaching style whispers echoes of Carl. We shared a ​beautiful moment reminiscing about Carl, with Celeste obviously having more stories as I was only lucky enough to be ​his student for one semester. After that evening, all my fears and anxieties disappeared, and I instantly felt at home in this ​program.

That amazing feeling of positivity carried through the entire two-year journey. Every single professor was excellent to ​work with and learn from, and I have been blessed to have been in classes with the most amazing classmates. The way we ​were able to create such incredible spaces of learning and creative expression is something I won’t soon forget.

I want to thank Dr. Celeste Snowber, Dr. Ching-Chiu Lin, Dr. Michael Ling, Dr. Vicki Kelly, and even though I didn’t get a ​chance to learn from her directly, I would also like to thank Dr. Lynn Fels. It has been such a privilege to have spent the ​last two years studying in a program that has been created and maintained with so much love and care. Tuesday quickly ​became my favourite day of the week, and I often left classes feeling as if I were floating on a cloud of knowledge and ​inspiration.

This program will certainly have an impact on my life and career. I am looking forward to continuing my journey as a ​conscientious disruptor as an artist and an educator (In a positive way of course). I will use the knowledge and ​experiences shared with professors and peers to enhance the experience for my students and colleagues, while ​continuing to be a strong advocate for arts education.

Selected References

Amenoff, G. (2006). Letters to a young artist. Darte Publishing, LLC.

Cajete, G. (1994). Look to the mountain: An ecology of Indigenous education.

Cooper, A. (2020, January 28). So what is devised theatre anyway (and why do I love it so much)? Theatre Art Life.

Donald, D. (2021). We need a new story: Walking and the wâhkôhtowin imagination. Journal of the Canadian Association ​for Curriculum Studies, 18(2), 53-63.

Dunn, A. (2015). Pen & ink drawing: A simple guide. Three Minds Press.

Fels, L. (2015). Performative inquiry: Reflection as a Scholarly Pedagogical Act. Playing in a House of Mirrors, 151-174.

Fels, L., & Belliveau, G. (2008). Exploring Curriculum: Performative Inquiry, Role Drama, and Learning. Pacific ​Educational Press.

Friedemann Hottenbacher (Director). (2015). Acting for Freedom - The Battle of Belarus Free Theatre. EuroArts Music in ​co-production with ZDF/Arte.

Hersey, T. (2022). Rest is resistance: A manifesto. Little, Brown Spark.

Kimmerer, R. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge and the teachings of plants. ​Milkweed Editions.

Nachmanovitch, S. (1991). Free play: Improvisation in life and art. Penguin.

Pascale, L. M. (2005). Dispelling the myth of the non-singer: Embracing two aesthetics for singing.

Philosophy of Music Education Review, 13(2), 165-175.

Rolling, J. H. (2016). Creative leadership. Art Education, 69(2), 4-5.

Rolling, J. H. (2016). Swarm intelligence and collaboration. Art Education, 69(5), 4-6.

Schafer, R. M. (1969). The new Soundscape: A handbook for the modern music teacher. BMI Canada.

Small, C. (1999). Musicking — the meanings of performing and listening. A lecture.

Music Education Research, 1(1), 9-22

Snowber, C. (2016). Embodied inquiry: Writing, living and being through the body. Springer.

Snowber, C. N. (2022). Dance, place, and poetics: Site-specific performance as a Portal to knowing.

Turino, T. (2008). Music as social life: The politics of participation. University of Chicago Press.

Wagamese, R. (2016). Embers: One Ojibway's meditations. D & M Publishers.

Walsh, S., Bickel, B., & Leggo, C. (2014). Arts-Based and Contemplative Practices in Research and Teaching. Routledge.

watchmeetmake.com. (n.d.). The Four Muscles of Acting Harry Mastrogeorge [Video]. YouTube. Mar 8, 2017

Why the embattled Belarus Free Theatre won't back down [TV series episode]. (2014, October 31). In CBC Radio ​(Producer), Q. CBC Radio.

Mark Turpin (He/Him) - SFU: 556001801 - mark.turpin@gmail.com

I am a descendant of settlers on this land and acknowledge that I live on the traditional, ancestral, and ​unceded territory of the kʷikʷəƛ̓əm First Nation. I am deeply grateful to, and offer my respect for, all ​Coast Salish Nations who have been stewards of the land where I live, work, and play. I also extend my ​respect to all Indigenous Nations who continue to endure and lead Canada on the important journey ​towards Truth and Reconciliation. May Indigenous cultures, languages, and traditions never ​disappear but instead serve as a beacon of light to guide all creation into the future.

2024