Creative Research Methods 2e. Kara, Helen
were conducted in conditions where all confounding variables had been eliminated and the researcher was a neutral agent who did not influence the findings. Now it is readily recognised that this is only one view of research, and there are many others. For example, some kinds of research are now seen as context dependent, multifaceted endeavours in which a variety of people have influence over the process and its outcome. In particular, it is rare that social phenomena can be effectively investigated by following ‘rigorous and pre-determined rules’ for conducting research (Tenenbaum et al 2009: 118). Also, although some researchers still value the concept of objectivity, many recognise that, at least in some contexts, this is impossible to achieve. People researching death and mortality cannot avoid having some kind of personal angle on the subject matter (Woodthorpe 2011: 99). This applies to other topic areas too, such as wealth and poverty, families, or health and sickness. And it is questionable whether objectivity can be achieved by humans in any context. We all carry with us biases and prejudices that come into play, whether we are doing fieldwork or writing algorithms, working with poetry or percentages in our research.
However it is viewed, any research project is the result of many decisions. The research topic, questions, method(s) of data gathering and analysis, reporting, presentation and dissemination all have to be decided. Within each of those areas lie numerous smaller decisions. How many questions should we put in the survey instrument? This interviewee seems agitated; should I check what’s going on with him? Which of three pertinent quotes should we use in the research report? Shall I present the findings as bar graphs or pie charts? Which word can express what we’re trying to say here? Is it ethical to include this outlier? Is it ethical to leave it out?
Research as an activity is suffused with uncertainty (Weiner-Levy and Popper-Giveon 2012). Uncertainty is closely linked with creativity (Grishin 2008: 115; Galvin and Todres 2012: 114; Romanyshyn 2013: 149). There is also a lot of overlap between creativity and problem solving (Csikszentmihalyi 1996/2013: 114; Selby et al 2005: 301). This renders research a fertile arena for creativity. In Neçka’s terms, sometimes this will be fluid creativity, such as a joke shared in an interview or an effective formula chosen for use on a spreadsheet. Sometimes it will be crystallised creativity, such as an elegant research design, or buying a car to help with data gathering (Stack 1974: 17). Sometimes it will be mature creativity, such as research presented to homeless participants in the form of a graphic novel (Morris et al 2012). And sometimes it will be eminent creativity, such as the invention of action research by Kurt Lewin in the 1940s. Researchers have demonstrated that creativity is relevant for both problem solving and analytical decisions, based on multiple criteria, aiming for new and useful outcomes (Čančer and Mulej 2013). This suggests that research has always been a highly creative activity.
One of the defining features of creativity in research is that it tends to resist binary or categorical thinking. Mixed-methods research grew from people thinking “Hang on a minute, why is it qualitative or quantitative? Why not both?” Also, putting people into separate categories, when scrutinised, often seems not to work as well as it might appear. For example, researchers in Asia and the Pacific found that ‘The categories of “gatekeeper” and “vulnerable populations” are unstable, complex and often interchangeable’ (Czymoniewicz-Klippel et al 2010: 339). Some researchers are reluctant to divide people into mind and body (for example, Kershaw and Nicholson 2011: 2; Ellingson 2017: 16). For an increasing number of queer and other researchers, gender is non-binary (Barker and Iantaffi 2019: 76). And creativity is the basis for both arts and sciences, so, in this dimension, at least, they need not be separate (Csikszentmihalyi 1996/2013: 8–10; Edwards 2008: 6; Jones and Leavy 2014: 1).
All creative researchers stand astride boundaries, and this can be uncomfortable. For example, artists who are forced to squash their work into unnatural shapes required by academia may find the process agonising (Durré 2008: 35). Alternatively, those who are required to keep their art separate from their scholarly work may feel ‘the ache of false separation’ (Leavy 2010: 240). People who work within transformative frameworks, or who conduct Indigenous research, are challenging power. That can cause great discomfort, particularly when the powerful resist (Ostrer and Morris 2009: 74–5) or when researchers’ peers in their own communities are as critical as those outside (Smith 2012: 14). Mixed-methods/multi-modal research can be uncomfortable when disciplinary norms and knowledge are challenged (Lunde et al 2013: 206). Yet it is in exactly these boundary-spanning situations, where roles begin to become ambiguous, that creativity may thrive (Wang et al 2011: 211; Strange et al 2016: 413).
Some research methods are reified in the literature as if they are indisputable and fail-safe, yet any method involves decisions at every stage. We have seen that decisions are nodes for creativity. This may partly be due to the unconscious, intuitive aspect of decision making (Gauntlett 2007: 82–3; Smerek 2014: 10), which draws on processes other than conscious thought. Decisions also have implications that it is not always possible to foresee in full (Mason and Dale 2011: 1–2). For example, take the systematic review. This is intended to be a review of all research already conducted to address a particular research question. The aim is to reduce bias (Petticrew and Roberts 2005: 10) by establishing selection criteria for the inclusion of research in the review, such as methodological soundness (Petticrew and Roberts 2005: 2). However, these criteria are defined by researchers and are therefore likely to carry biases of their own because different researchers will have different views of what constitutes ‘methodologically sound’. For example, one researcher might think sample size is an important criterion, and so decide that any study with a sample of fewer than 60 participants is unsound. Another researcher might also think sample size is important, but decide that studies can be considered methodologically sound with a sample size of 40 participants. The second researcher might further decide that the findings of studies with 40 to 80 participants will be considered as indicative rather than conclusive. This could mean that the first researcher leaves out several relevant studies with 59 participants or fewer, while the second researcher doesn’t give enough weight to relevant studies with 80 participants or fewer.
This may not sound very creative compared to apple pies and graphic novels. And indeed the place of creativity in research is still contested by some people. For example, it has been demonstrated that some researchers, particularly in fields such as the physical sciences, can have negative attitudes towards creativity (Walsh et al 2013: 27). In other fields some research methods, particularly those used for studying social subjects, seem to encourage creativity (Rapport 2004: 4–5; Mason and Dale 2011: 2). And I would argue that, in any field, every research project is created by its researchers. We talk about ‘doing’ or ‘conducting’ research, but I would suggest that we ‘make’ research. Even where the method seems to be strictly prescribed, there is in fact a remarkable amount of scope for creativity, right from the setting of the research topic and questions (Robson and McCartan 2016: 64–5). Taking a creative approach helps to expand the purpose of research: from simply finding answers to questions, to enabling us to see and understand problems and topics in new ways (Law 2004: 2; Sullivan 2009: 62).
Creativity is sometimes conflated with art (Hesmondhaugh and Baker 2011: 1; Mewburn 2012: 126). We will see that the visual and performance arts have a lot to offer to research and researchers (Rapport 2004: 8–9; Jones 2012: 2; Rose 2012: 10). And, indeed, this works both ways, as a wide variety of artists need to develop and use research skills to support their creations (Hoffman 2003: 1; Jones 2012: 2). The processes involved in making art can be surprisingly similar to the processes involved in making research. ‘Higher level thinking (as we like to call it) demands connections, associations, linkages of conscious and unconscious elements, memory and emotion, past, present and future merging in the processes of making meaning. These are the very processes that poets actively seek to cultivate’ (Sullivan 2009: 121). I would argue that these are also the processes that many researchers seek to cultivate. Smith and Dean (2009: 12) write of the ‘mutual reciprocity’ of creative arts practice and research, and Gauntlett (2011: 4) says that ‘thinking and making are aspects of the same process’. For the US education researcher and ‘fiber artist’ Judith Davidson the relationship between research and art is cyclical: ‘I think, analyze, dissect, and write, and this leads to an idea that becomes an art piece ... in the making of the art piece, I am also thinking, analyzing, dissecting, and creating a new interpretation. This process and its product then become fodder – experience,