My super collaborative buddy, Kevin Hodgson, and I have been sharing work inside of Hypothes.is. We have been exploring the theme of gratefulness inside of some truly inspiring poetry from the anthology, Poems of Gratitude.
The gist of the project is this:
Find a poem in the anthology that is online somewhere.
Use Hypothes.is to annotate the poem any way you wish.
Make sure you tag your notes with #gratefulpoems
See what happens in the margins.
And what happened this time was response, understanding, adding to, summing up, analysis, and, mostly, riffing and creating. I have written more poetry and better poetry and had more fun with this single project than almost any other in the last year, thanks to Kevin’s most excellent sharing.
Here is an example from this morning.
An interesting observation: in writing out loud about this collaboration, the breadcrumbs only flow one way. What I mean by this is that I can look back and tell you how this particular piece was created, but I could not tell you how a creative piece might emerge from the initial set of conditions.
Here are the initial conditions
Kevin and I both agreed to share poems of gratitude.
Kevin and I both agreed to annotate using Hypothes.is and the hashtag #gratefulpoems.
Kevin and I both have a history of annotating via Hypothes.is.
Kevin and I both have a very broad definitions of what annotation means. In other words it includes text, image, gifs, and videos as a possible means of response.
Predicting with any particularity what would follow was impossible. That fits with complexity theory as I understand it in its simplest terms. The zeega above was only an indirect result of this incomplete set of initial conditions.
You can follow how the zeega came to be (Zeega<——-Soundtrap file on Soundcloud<—–Mastodon sharing with Algot Runeman<—–Hypothes.is poem annotated, call and response in the margins<——and all the initiating conditions listed above.
You will notice that the arrow of time goes backward above and into the past. As a teacher I often think that I can reverse engineer this improvised lesson plan into a functioning piece of the gears of the curriculum. But this kind of thinking just doesn’t work. You cannot imagine the breadcrumbs forward in this rigid, curricularized manner. Or I can’t. What arises from the tacit knowledge and experience that Kevin and I share in our networked worlds are too complex. We could predict that something interesting and worth doing might arise, but not what would arise. I could not have said, “You know what? I think that this project will end up in a very interesting zeega that rose up from some Hypothes.is annotations.” That’s not a failure of the imagination, but rather that, as Hamlet said to Horation, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” It is dreams created that I want. Dreams made flesh.
Any system or institution that does not explicitly acknowledge this is, as far as I am concerned, a failed system. Complexity demands improvisation, play, and the capacity to acknowledge failures both large and small in ways that allow for instructional changes in course and for personal changes in course on the fly.