Journal of Qualitative Research in Sports Studies

Published in the UK by: University of Central Lancashire, Preston. SSTO Publications: School of Sport, Tourism and The Outdoors, in association with the Centre for Research Informed Teaching

Journal of Qualitative Research in Sports Studies Volume 5, Issue 1, December 2011 Doing and representing qualitative research: a human perspective (Part 2: textual)

ISSN: ISBN: JQRSS Article No:

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Beki Price (Cardiff Metropolitan University)

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David Gilbourne (Cardiff Metropolitan University)

1754-2375 978-0-9566270-3-2 7/16-5-1-2011-PG[26]-053

To cite this article: Price, B. and Gilbourne, D. (2011) Doing and representing qualitative research: a human perspective (Part 2: textual). Journal of Qualitative Research in Sports Studies, 5, 1, 87-100.

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Price, B. and Gilbourne, D. (2011) Doing and representing qualitative research: a human perspective (Part 2: textual). Journal of Qualitative Research in Sports Studies, 5, 1, 87-100

Doing and representing qualitative research: a human perspective (Part 2: textual) Beki Price and David Gilbourne (Cardiff Metropolitan University) (Hull University) Abstract This paper offers a personal view on some of the challenges and processes associated with undertaking postgraduate qualitative research. Representation of data is also a core theme as the research discussed here utilised multi-form art-based mediums to communicate aspects of data and to disseminate the research beyond the confines of academia. The storyline to follow is told by the first author and serves as an exploration of her own auto-ethnographic research process. Practical and pragmatic issues, to do with process, are intertwined with personal and emotionally charged recollections that shed light on the day-to-day experiences of „being‟, „living‟ and „doing‟ autoethnography.

Introduction This paper tells a story of my own (first author‟s) postgraduate qualitative research journey; a journey undertaken in association with my registration for the award of Masters of Applied Qualitative Research in Sport and Exercise (MRes). The structure of the MRes requires candidates to undertake a qualitative research project and allows for the submission of the project to embrace a range of representational mediums (such as poetry, drama, film, sketching and other artistic forms). Through this course, I came to embark upon an auto-ethnographic process to explore the notion of understanding personal experience. The research project was located within the area of sport social sciences and aspects of what might be termed, the „final product‟ was presented in a way that made use of creative mediums; film, dance, poetry and various other art installations. This tangible product was in order to disseminate research, first, for academic scrutiny and, secondly to encourage widening participation through presentation to a public audience. Thus, I had opted to explore a subjective and intra-personal approach within the wider sphere of qualitative endeavour to investigate how this approach to inquiry might allow for indepth understanding of self through a process of uncovering and communicating lived experiences. Additionally, I wondered how such a personal approach to data collection and research dissemination might enable ideas on personal experience to be presented in a manner that might encourage a sense of sharing. 87

Journal of Qualitative Research in Sports Studies 5, 1

The idea of reaching out to others by communicating outside the (arguably) restricted form of a traditional thesis allowed ideas to develop in which a performance of my own experience became the vehicle for a wider collective experience. This notion of sharing academic work may be at variance with the way a traditional thesis may be read by a small number of examiners and, as a consequence, be lost, or be less available, to the wider community more generally. These questions also led to further curiosity over how this form of qualitative research and presentation might over time, impact upon both the scope and reach of social science research. Establishing a broader rationale for auto-ethnography The above thoughts and ideas led me to frame the foundations of my project around the themes and processes of auto-ethnographic inquiry; a process that typically involves reflection on ones‟ own life experiences (Denzin and Lincoln, 2005). Whilst criticised by many as „navel gazing‟, „self indulgent‟ and „narcissistic‟ (Sparkes, 2002), I came to view auto-ethnographic processes as valid and valuable practice for researcher‟s to undertake; especially within the context of the social sciences and exploring the notion of the „human perspective‟. Building from this underlying critique I felt that it was important to find avenues in which subjectivity and personal experience could be explored and portrayed. This gave me two options in terms of participants to study: working with others, or employing myself for this role. As odd as it may seem (especially for one undertaking auto-ethnographic practice), up until this time I had felt no specific interest in exploring and writing about my own experiences, yet, I had arrived at an ethical cross-roads, one that led me to question the ethics of asking others to do what I myself was not willing to do, or had no experience of doing myself. I also felt that as a fledgling in the world of qualitative research I was not ready to delve into others lives without having first undergone the process myself. I believed that by undertaking this process of introspection, first hand so to speak, it would enhance an understanding of myself as an individual and as a researcher in terms of my biases, passions, interests and beliefs; in addition to this I also reasoned that in terms of the development of personal skills and the opening up of perspectives, it would also enable me to further understand others through a deeper understanding of self. Embracing the potential of artistic representation The auto-ethnographic phase of my research acted as a foundation from which a series of narratives were constructed and stored in what amounted to, a personal archive. With a series of stories, vignettes and poems in the archive it was clear from an early stage that I was naturally utilising creative forms of expression. For example, I initially explored and „stored‟ aspects of my own life experiences through 88

Rebecca Price and David Gilbourne

different forms of written narrative. For the purposes of academic submission, in the same sense as others might compile a thesis, I developed these foundational materials into spoken text, movement, illustration, photography and film. My primary intention was to explore my own auto-ethnographic narratives from new and more challenging perspectives. My stories made myself vulnerable, they were emotionally charged and I was interested in how a more creative exploration might somehow access a deeper more meaningful reflection of my own experiences. A cyclic interest also developed in that I wondered how, if at all, my experiences may inform the use of particular creative mediums, as well as how these finished articles, or creative representations may communicate to others; that is, how others may interpret, relate to or associate with this work. This final query led me to present the works collectively as an installation piece; which might be understood as a large-scale work of art assembled in a space, in this case a gallery, where it was available for others to see or „be part of‟. By presenting my own work (experiences of life) as an installation piece I feel I was able to make my research accessible to both academics and the wider public. Exploring the format and process of the installation As the installation was central to an academic research process, the art works were evaluated, in academic terms, by four examiners whilst simultaneously being open to the public. Both examiners and visitors were encouraged to spend time exploring the gallery space and the work contained within it. By presenting my experiences through different art forms and in the format of a gallery installation it provided a multi-faceted experience for the audience. Everyone was invited to explore the works and collect their thoughts in their own time. In anticipation that viewers‟ thoughts might be relevant data each person was provided with a notepad and pen to make notes; to document thoughts, feelings, emotions, and/or their own personal narratives in response to the works within the space. Other paper resources were also provided around the space for the same purpose. At the end of the showing a short discussion was held in order to encourage open dialogue about the audience‟s responses to the artworks. The showing ran for a total of one hour, 45 minutes for the installation and 15 minutes for the Q&A/discussion. Photography and film footage was taken during the session to document and record the different elements of the installation and capture some of the interactions with the work from the audience during the event. This, alongside their verbal feedback (later transcribed for analysis) was submitted as part of the final written MRes. Post installation the audience were invited to continue

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communication with me via email in regards to the project, if they so wished, there were no obligations placed on this offer for on-going dialogue. Further reflections on process As noted above, in terms of the research process, the first stage of this journey was the initiation of my own writing. Prior to the MRes I had little or no experience of keeping a personal record of my life experiences. So, and within the context of writing about personal experiences within a research setting, I focused upon issues, moments and events that held a strong emotional connection to me, and which I felt others would also be able to relate to. The first narratives I began work on were accounts that appeared to me as though they were „fresh in my mind‟; they held a strong emotional response for me. I wondered also whether other people might have experienced similar things, in fact, I was pretty sure that would be the case. One of these narratives was called Just Don’t!. Just Don‟t! was a narrative which explored the issue of being „touched-up‟ in public by strangers. The narratives explore the situations and occasions, in which it happens, my feelings towards the act of being touched up, how it affects me and makes me feel, and also questioning why it happens. I started by recalling these events; reliving the moments, sensations and emotions of being in these situations. I recalled the actions of the perpetrators, my immediate reactions, my thoughts, feelings and responses to the event, etc., and wrote out my thoughts. As I wrote I found that there was something about the rhythm of the text as it came out; the dialogic-like manner in which it presented itself, which drew me into a poetic format. My intention with each of the narratives was to portray honest accounts of the events and/or situations, as well as selecting communicative and writing mediums which I felt were most appropriate, or true to the nature of the narratives. In this case, this form became poetry. A brief extract follows to allow readers some grasp of this part of my work. Extract from Just Don’t! “No it‟s not alright and it‟s not okay for you to assume and start to invade my personal space. To touch me up as you‟re passing when I‟m minding my own business and I am definitely not asking. You don‟t even acknowledge me as you walk away. You pretend like nothing‟s happened to disguise your guilt as you make your escape. But the smirk on your face says it all as you puff up your chest and you stand up tall. You are about to brag to your friends about the girl you just groped when I turn on my heels before you get the chance to gloat. Time seems to slow as I go in for the

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kill. Our eyes meet and your face goes still. Your mouth contorts from a smile to a frown as the realisation sinks in. Are you so proud now?... When someone touches me up without invitation I feel overwhelmed with vulnerability at the imposed violation. When they take it upon themselves to invade my physical space; laying their hands on my body and touching me in places which are personal and private and sacred to me – how else do you expect me to react? How else do you expect me to feel? But the problem is this; that you don‟t even think about the person that you are abusing – because abuse is what it is. You violate someone else for your own gratification without a moment of thought or contemplation about how your invasion might make someone feel, why you even do it, or what your actions reveal. This happens too often, and has happened to me one too many times, which is why I will rant verse after verse, line after line. I don‟t like you touching me, groping me, or being a slime, and I definitely did not permit you to touch what is mine.”

I found working through the language of poetry both liberating and challenging simultaneously. It was challenging because, as my poetic abilities are limited to rhyme, something I was „taught‟ in my school days, I had to constantly reflect on and re-evaluate what I was trying to say to ensure I did not to stray from the point, or, so that I did not let the rhyming become the directing force of the poem. I knew what I wanted to say, but finding the poetic phrasing, coupled with rhyming, and trying to maintain truth, honesty and accuracy in the narrative was a nightmarish task and often led me down poignant but misleading, tangential paths. Conversely, it was these very challenges which brought with it liberation and catharsis. Through the constant need of reflection and re-evaluation of the text, I also had to re-live and re-engage with the events and feeling of the situations. This process led me to reflect on, analyse and process my thoughts and feelings about these situations much more deeply, leaving me with what I felt was a better understanding of my own triggers, impulses and rationales. This said, in many ways it raised more questions than provided answers about society and my place within it, but this process was as a very positive and beneficial learning experience in terms of my own critical reflective practice. With this central narrative in place (Just Don‟t!) I began to write further stories and recount moments from a life-span perspective. It took some time before I came upon a narrative which engaged me enough to just write, but when it did, I wrote for four pages and then I broke down in tears. I had obviously hit a nerve. It was at about this time that I realised what my boundaries might be, and what narratives I may or may not come to use, and also to question further some ethical implications of narrative inquiry in terms of the possible vulnerabilities associated with such studies and practices, such as those imposed through re-visiting our own stories, but also the 91


vulnerabilities of exposing these personal experiences. Whilst this narrative was withdrawn from my study (and even from completion), it spurred the writing of several other narratives, joined only by „me‟ as the connecting link or narrative element. I wrote widely of my experiences at first, uncertain of the terrain or „topic‟ I would be examining. Ideas of gender, body, embodiment and identity continuously came into question. However, the more I investigated these specific tones, the more I grew distant from the idea of a „certain kind‟ of journey, such as that of a gendered body, for example. I felt I was rebelling against the idea of a specific topic, wanting instead to use narratives which I felt people from all walks of life could relate to, but also in recognition that nobody is made up solely of one or other of its parts, but made up of the whole spectrum of experiences, be it gendered, sporting, ethnic etc., and is instead the result of a collection of compounds, experiences and relationships with others. Therefore, I chose to look at that spectrum of experiences, noting only „myself‟; the person, as the joining link between the narratives. During the writing of these later narratives ethical concerns kept cropping-up. As inter-relational, social beings, the majority of our experiences will have others interwoven in them in some way, either as a contributing factor, or a side-line of an experience, and those „others‟ form part of those experiences. Whilst I had obviously given consent for these narratives, my narratives had to be explored and even publicised to others. Consequently there were other people unavoidably tied up in my narratives who had not given their consent, and to whom I felt an overwhelming concern for by including them in my texts. I was constantly aware of this fact, and was keen to question the ethical challenges I found myself in. I questioned how we could construct stories without the inclusion of others? Or how could one ethically include others without their consent? But how could one honestly represent these narratives if they excluded these other characters? It is one thing to put ourselves out the „on the line‟ so to speak, but quite another to put someone else out there unwittingly. It seems to be a risk and potentially an unethical one at that. However, with all this in mind, I still felt that these narratives, whilst many containing sensitive material, especially if it exposed those in my story in a negative light, were important tales that might be imparted to others. I therefore had to find a resolution. With the above responsibilities at the forefront of my mind I took McFee‟s (2009) advice to „[treat] subjects as one‟s friends‟. Whilst McFee‟s advice was not intended for the auto-ethnographer specifically, this ethos helped me to overcome this ethical dilemma by bringing forth that question of how would I treat my friends, and how I might develop a method to do so. This led me to devise three interrelated strategies 92


to maintain the other characters anonymity. First, whenever someone else featured in the works I removed their titles, for example, be it family, friend, acquaintance, colleague, or whatever it might be. Secondly, when presenting the stories I removed any direct mention of the environment, such as a building or location which may have disclosed certain recognisable information which could have identified figures in my life, and finally, for those stories which I deemed too threatening to others I removed them from the narrative all together, creating a more situational piece directed towards my emotional relationship to an event. Whilst none of these techniques are fool-proof, I do feel that I made a positive effort to protect the others in my narratives, and that only those who were directly involved could actually have recognised themselves in the situational narrative. It is important to note that these ethical questions are not just questions for me, they are, and will always be, a core issue for the auto-ethnographic writer. Stories involve not only the author but others also, fathers, mothers, teachers, coaches, friends, lovers, relatives and so on and so forth, and often these characters are central to the storyline, essential to the message, yet they are being portrayed in a particular way, a way that they might not necessarily approve of, so we must endeavour to find ways of protecting them as we would our best friend. Towards a wider representational format Once I had completed the final set of narratives, I began work to convert the texts into other creative mediums. The first element I began to develop was the movement material. At first I questioned whether I would attempt to re-enact these narratives through movement, but even the thought of this felt contrived. I wanted to produce something truer than that, something which complimented the narratives, rather than just replicating them in a different form. This led me to reflect upon how I had experienced these narrative moments both physically and emotionally. I recalled how I stood, how I held myself, how I moved, even how I might have breathed or sighed. I became aware of certain movement or gestural patterns I had made which were associated with different emotional inputs and outputs, finding that certain emotions brought with them certain physical responses. I kept exploring, thinking and questioning, through which I came to think about how we relate to each other through body language; how much we can read about others by the way they stand, sit, or carry out basic gestures, and the potency that this non-verbal communication can carry. It was through this exploration that I came to realise that it was this natural body language that I needed to work on to communicate the essence of the narratives. It was this language; body language, which I felt I would be most able to honestly, truthfully and accurately reflect these narrative moments. Dance as means of non93


verbal communication, is by its very nature abstract. I felt that by utilising in a dance movement material which is recognisable to the majority of people, that I would be able to connect to the audience on a much more emotional and relational level, which is what I was hoping to do in performing my dance. However, this process was not as straight forward as it might seem. Whilst there is seemingly an infinite number of gestural possibilities each with potential of conveying a vast array of messages dependent on the dynamics used to execute the movement, I found that, coming from a dance background, it was hard not to revert into a more complex, abstract style. Whilst I live and move through my body day to day, I found it almost impossible, both physically and even intellectually, to create more than a short fragment of work which was both naturalistic in nature and which conveyed a narrative essence without re-enacting the narrative situation, or without it developing into something more abstract. In my desire to remain „honest and truthful‟ to the situations and/or narratives as possible, not wishing to convolute the messages and meanings of the works by distracting and diluting what I was producing through abstract concepts or aesthetics, I seemed to have in some ways backed myself into a corner, that, or found my creative limits, maybe? Whilst I realised that the audience would create their own meanings and interpretations of the works regardless of how far I abstracted them, I felt that I had to remain true to my intention for honesty (openness?), which meant not adding to these levels of abstraction. It was this challenge; how to create something which is abstract, without it being abstracted, which made the movement material the most complex to devise, and took the longest to develop out of all the creative mediums. Nonetheless, I did indeed manage to create a series of short movement sequences and transitional phases, which would be presented in and around the installation. One piece was „Last Man‟ (named after the piece of music I was „working‟ to at the time), which started with me lying curled up on my side on the floor, a position derived from my own lived moments of emotional numbness and/or emptiness. The piece evolved with me moving through a variety of natural positions one might relate to this emotional landscape of „feeling numb‟. The movement was minimal, small and slow, and required that I re-engaged in the emotional experiences and sensations of this mood in order to re-enforce the dynamic of the sequence. Two other of the movement works were filmed for projection which were stylised footage with various technical treatments. The transitional elements between the movement sequences involved me walking around the space, sitting, listening, and being present in the space. This again, I felt, maintained the sense of truth and honesty, but also, reflected the human aspect, rather than creating a performance of the works. My intention with all of the movement work had always been not to „perform‟ the 94


work, but to be myself, be human, in the space, and in these ways I felt I achieved this intention. The illustration work was developed next, although the timeline boundaries were not actually this clear during the process of development. The illustration works were developed in similar way to that of the movement, but this time, the use of body language and emotion was depicted through the use of lines rather than through a body. I spent much time working on preparatory sketches, which depicted bodies (one or more) in natural physical position – in moments of thought, moments of frustration, moments of intimacy etc. Again, I wanted to keep these depictions as natural and honest as possible, with images that were instantly recognisable, which explored something more foundational to personal and/or lived experience, and that would therefore potentially trigger a natural emotional response for the audience, rather than a conceptual or abstracted considered response. After some time I developed two illustrative pieces which would end up being used for the installation. One portrayed a couple embracing and the other depicted a person lying on the floor in a foetal position, with both illustrations being scaled up to fill the walls on which their outline was painted. „The Embrace‟ had no visible (or theoretical) abstraction, other than the style of the illustration, whereas the latter picture „I feel numb…‟ was slightly abstracted in its proportions, with the hand extended and enlarged at the forefront of the illustration. The reason for this abstraction, whilst only superficial, was because this illustration had derived from the starting position of the movement sequence „Last Man‟, and I wanted to create an image which drew the audience into as close a sensation of what it felt like to lie in that position, and to be in that emotional state; distant. As I continued to review each of the narratives I came across two which stood out as accounts which I felt would be enhanced by being represented through another creative medium. The narratives were both about engraving on the body; one as selfharm, and the other as body modification. I felt as body stories, they somehow needed to be brought into the foreground as text on bodies. There were several initial ideas which I had thought might worked - text projected on my body, words written into an illustration of a body form, etc., but in the end photography was chosen as the means of representation. For these pieces I had two photos taken of different perspectives of the body, one for each text, and then I embedded the text on top of the images to create an embodied story. During the session when the initial photo images were being taken, whilst looking through the images I became incredibly aware of myself in the pictures, making me feel uncomfortable and unsettled about the works. Whilst the narratives were written by me and many were actually about me, I felt uncomfortable being the focal point 95


of the artworks – they were not a form of self promotion and I felt, somehow, uncomfortable with the attention. In the same way that I sought anonymity for others in my narratives, so I wished the same for myself. But this anonymity for myself was desired because I wished for the audience to see these stories, these ideas, images etc., as possibly their own, as anybody‟s, rather than that of the researcher, or „performer‟. With this in mind, I tried out some shots out of focus, and with various other treatments, but none seemed to work. This, however, would be something I would like to look into further in any future works – how to remove the individual from the spotlight in a hope to enable others to engage further on a more personal or social level. Once each of the artworks had been refined, the task was to set the work in the gallery space. In total I had two photo images, two illustrations, three bodies of pure text, two projections (movement) and two live movement sequences, and the physical transitions in between, to fit in the space. The gallery space itself was large and open, which whilst generally appropriate left no „nooks and crannies‟ or „private places‟ to explore the more secluded aspects of my life-narrative. This led me to block off areas with fabric and furniture, directing people to investigate the space to make people have to explore, by not making all areas easily accessible. Whilst I would like to say there was some mathematical, rational equation which I utilised to map out the space, I cannot. It seemed to me that in fact, the space dictated the shape it would become in the same way it seemed to organise the layout and presentation possibilities of the works in the space. It was a matter of instinct, and some trial and error as to how to arrange things. For example, once I had worked out the locations of each of the works, I „dressed‟ empty spaces by including a variety of objects, irrelevant and relevant to my narrative, as finishing touches within the space. This created a more homely, lived in environment, which was intended to take away some of the sterility of the white space, and hopefully invited the audience to investigate the finer detail of the space, the works and the narratives. What challenges did I face? During this process there were a number of more practical challenges which occurred during the process, which I could not have foreseen having not undertaken such a project before, but which have definitely informed me for any future projects I may undertake with this method of process and practice. It may be unsurprising that money proved to be a challenge. Whilst I was aware and willing that I would need to spend money for this presentation, I had not fully taken in account the implications of this. From rent to materials, tools to petrol, the list was almost endless. Also, as this was not an externally funded project it impacted upon my own finances and may have restricted what I was able to achieve artistically. For 96


example, one of the challenges which occurred from limited funds was only a contribution to fees to hire the gallery space could be afforded which meant I had to share the space with other artists whilst preparing for the showing, rather than obtaining its sole-use to arrange the installations over a longer period. This meant that I was restricted in terms of how and when I could use the space, but also meant I could not set up the space to mould/develop the work within the space until a few days before the event. This consequently, and subsequently, impacted on what I actually produced within the space and how I developed the works in that location, as for the weeks leading up to the event I had only sketches and ideas floating around on pieces of paper and in my head, rather than working in the galley space treating it as a canvas for my work. As with any project, there was an issue of time constrains. This became a challenge on three levels. Firstly as a full-time worker I was limited to the amount of time I could spend creating and shaping the work – limited to evenings and weekends. Secondly, there was the issue of how much time could actually be spent in the space due to it being a shared as outlined above. Finally, it took a lot longer than anticipated to create, develop and edit each of the creative mediums in terms of their accuracy, honesty and quality. For example, it took considerable time to experiment with how different qualities of light affected the projection work, as well as affecting my scope to develop more technically complex ideas. Some personal challenges encountered on this journey included the fears and insecurities as to whether I was the right person for the job, whether I could manage such an undertaking both in terms of the scale of the project, but also in terms of the quality of the work. With little or no experience of the art forms, other than in my spare time at home, it was extremely daunting to undertake this scale of work for a public presentation. Whilst I had always emphasised to those involved that the proficiency of the work was not the main focus, the work did have to be of a high enough standard that others could recognise it and thus connect with the work on some level. There were also fears of no-one attending, or people getting bored because there was too little information, or over filing the space and people not having enough time to immerse themselves in the space. I worried that others would not understand what I was doing, or why I was doing, it, and on many occasions, I myself, questioned the process which did not help. I think that being so many roles in this process; researcher, subject, artist/creator, choreographer, designer, director, organiser and manager, left me no time to stand back from the work; to be the outside eye, which may have resulted in many of these anxieties. I also worried about vulnerability – mine, in terms of putting myself and my personal stories forward, but also in putting myself forward in terms of my creative 97


capabilities. I also worried for the audience – how the stories, images, elements might affect them, and whether I was putting them in a vulnerable position being amongst strangers with purposely evocative devised material, and thus what measures, as a researcher, I should have taken to cater for this. The ethics still seem an endless, almost unanswerable list. Final thoughts In spite of what must seem like an endless list of challenges, I feel that this process has been hugely beneficial and developmental for me as a researcher, providing me with much food for thought for future research practice, which is exactly what I sought when I undertook this investigation. With the presentation now over and having had time to reflect on both process and outcomes I believe the use of these different forms contributed to the narratives by providing a new insight into the work. I felt that the use of creative mediums offered more levels and more depth to the works, and the format of the works as an installation provided the audience, who were in effect research audience, with the opportunity to really engage with and digest the works, in a way that text seems limited to achieve. I also felt that by engaging the audience in enabling them to both access and feedback on the works, that there is much potential for opening dialogue and discussion in terms of both research practice and social issues, but also providing new ways of sharing knowledge. It is important for me to highlight that this study seems far from complete or even conclusive in terms of providing definitive views on the potential of the methods and practice undertaken. Rather, it feels like the first of many steps in my own on-going investigative journey.

References Denzin, N.K. and Lincoln, Y.S. (2005) Introduction: the discipline and practice of qualitative research (pp.1-32). In, Denzin, N.K. and Lincoln, Y.S. (Eds.) The Sage handbook of qualitative research - third edition. Sage Publications, Thousand Oaks, California. McFee, G. (2009) The epistemology of qualitative research: ethical and erotetic. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 1, 3, 297-311. Sparkes, A.C. (2002) Telling tales in sport and physical activity. Human Kinetics, Champagne: IL.

JQRSS: Acknowledgement Footnote 1.

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Authors reflective comment: At the time of writing Rebecca was in the last phase of her Masters of Research in Applied Qualitative Research Methods in Sports Exercise at Cardiff Metropolitan University (formally the University of Wales Institute Cardiff). Through her studies, research investigation and the writing of this


article, Rebecca has gained a great deal in terms of her development as a research practitioner, as well as it having ignited further research interests within the applied qualitative research spectrum. Rebecca would like to thank both her supervisors, David Gilbourne and Sally Varrall, for their continued support throughout this process. 2.

Author profile: Rebecca graduated with a 2:1 BA Honours Dance degree from Cardiff Metropolitan University before continuing her studies at the same university to undertake the Masters of Research in Applied Qualitative Research Methods in Sports Exercise. On completion of her MRes studies, she hopes to continue her explorations into qualitative research practice, especially within the sphere of the use of creative mediums as a means of disseminating research.

3.

Dear reader, if this article has stimulated your thoughts and you wish to find out more about this topic the authors can be contacted on: Rebecca Price: [email protected] and David Gilbourne: [email protected]

Reviewer’s comments: This paper provides an insight into some innovative ways of representing the self in ethnographic research. It is an accessible account which reflects the twists and turns of the research process for Rebecca. The use of artistic modes to provide a picture of moments in her life seems to have been both engaging and challenging for the creator and the spectator of such work. Thus, many questions are raised concerning interpretation of what might be termed „potential data‟ and how it may be represented, for example, what counts as data in autoethnographic research? That is, is it everything experienced in a life or is it just the memorable bits? (For whatever reason they may be memorable). If the latter then how are segments of that experience prioritised for attention in research? Ethical issues immediately come to the fore and affect what may be selected. The author seems patently aware of this which is very good – and a strong aspect of her attention in this writing. Once these choices about data have been made new layers of metamorphosis have occurred with their transformation into art. Such a process may actually be more revealing for the artist, but, then, the creation of art prompts some interesting issues concerning the judgement of product; how is the art to be critiqued? Again I think Rebecca seems to be very much aware of these conflicting issues by her exploring personal thoughts about the performative aspects of the gallery showing. In sum, the author is to be congratulated for formulating an accessible account of what appears to have been a very complex research process and presentation of her work. This paper helps to raise many critical issues in ethnographic research which are worthy of deeper debate than they are often given in other academic forums.

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