A Research Methodology of Interdependence through Video as Method

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ScienceDirect Computers and Composition 54 (2019) 102514

A Research Methodology of Interdependence through Video as Method Crystal VanKooten ∗ Oakland University, 300 O’Dowd Hall, 586 Pioneer Drive, Rochester, MI 48309, USA

Abstract Responding to a need in rhetoric and composition for more attention to digital methodologies and methods, this paper offers one detailed example of the interdependent, messy process of designing, conducting, and continually reconceptualizing digital writing research that uses video. I begin by reviewing research that uses video methods within the field. Then, I narrate how processes of gathering data with video cameras, analyzing data with a video editor, and presenting multimodal products have caused me to rethink and rearticulate my own methodology and methods in a way that better acknowledges the complexity of the research scene and the researcher’s interdependent role in the co-construction of meaning. I urge all digital writing researchers to more consciously participate in a similar critical reflective process about their own methodology and methods. © 2019 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. Keywords: video methods; methodology; video; digital writing research; qualitative research

I wait in the hallway outside of Kelly’s first-year writing classroom. I have camera bags and recording equipment slung over my shoulders, strapped to my back, and inside the rolling bag at my feet. As the current class adjourns, I hustle into the room and begin setting up, one camera on a tripod in the front of the room and the same in the back. Students filter in, greeting one another and unpacking their bags for the class session to come. I attach a third camera to a sound mixer and shotgun mic. I will hold this camera during class as I observe, and the mic mounted to the top will capture the sounds directly in front of it. Kelly starts class, and I point the camera toward her. Today is video workshop day, and students gather in threes. I move around the room, recording. Now I get really close, holding the camera a few feet away from students as they talk to one another. I try not to speak, and I observe and record, listening and looking through the tools on my head and in my hands. This scene occurred as I collected video data for the first-year writing study, a qualitative research project that examines the relationship between multimodal composition and meta-awareness in several classrooms at two institutions. For this study, video-recorded observations like this one were part of my methods, along with conducting and recording interviews and collecting documents. Deciding to use video to seek answers to research questions about meta-awareness and student learning, and then figuring out how best to use video toward this end, though, was a complex process. As I prepared for and recorded class sessions and interviews across several classrooms and eventually ∗

Corresponding author. E-mail address: [email protected]

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.compcom.2019.102514 8755-4615/© 2019 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

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several research sites, I was faced with a myriad of logistical and ethical questions, and I simultaneously felt a need for methodological specificity and care. How many cameras should I use, and where should I put them in order to record useful data? How might the presence of cameras affect students’ participation in class? How might I honor participant requests to abstain from the study or to participate anonymously while filming? As I considered these and other questions, my knowledge of the why and the how of my own evolving digital methodology and methods felt both theoretically and practically insufficient. The need for more attention to the specifics of digital methodology and methods that I began to feel as I collected data for the first-year writing study reflects a similar need to attend to these matters more explicitly across the computers and writing community and our field of rhetoric and composition. Methodology and methods for research are vital considerations—they foreground or obscure phenomena, emphasize or mask ways of knowing, and highlight or deemphasize ethics. Both beginning and experienced digital writing researchers would benefit from more robust, timely, and specific conversations about methodology and methods as we seek to enact valid, reliable, and ethical research. In particular, the field lacks a variety of detailed, current examples of how researchers theorize, design, enact, reflect on, and revise different kinds of digital writing research. In this article, I offer one such detailed example, narrating how conducting research in first-year writing with digital video cameras has pushed me to re-envision research methodology and methods. The research experiences I share below contain much that will speak directly to digital writing researchers who use video in their own work. These experiences, though, are also relevant to researchers who do not use video. For me, learning to pay careful attention to how and why I use video methods has pushed me to rethink explicit and tacit philosophies and assumptions that I hold about research and knowledge production. It is such a process of continual critical reflection on the various aspects of methodology and methods that I hope all readers might take from the example I offer here. While video is one tool that can be used for the formation of new knowledge that more researchers might consider using, my overall purpose is not to argue that digital writing research must use video methods. Instead, I urge digital (and all) writing researchers to more consciously participate in a critical reflective process about their own methodology and methods. Video Research as an Ecological-Rhetorical Situation Methodology is the big picture of how research is approached, conceptualized, and designed—what Gesa Kirsch and Patricia A. Sullivan (1992), citing Sandra Harding, detailed as the “underlying theory and analysis” of research (p. 2). Methodology is thus made up of beliefs about what exists and how knowledge is constructed; in other words, epistemological and ontological assumptions shape methodology, both tacitly and overtly. Methods, then, are the tangible outgrowth of a methodology: the individual research practices that represent and comprise an overarching philosophical approach. As I have learned through collecting video data for the first-year writing study, designing and enacting methodology and methods for research is a complex and continual process, one that requires careful planning and still is often in flux, improvised, and revised. Patricia Sullivan and James E. Porter’s (1997) view of writing research as “a set of critical practices” is helpful as I consider the complexity of methodology and methods, especially when video technologies are involved. For me, working with video has caused me to continually pause, question, rethink, and reconsider the underlying theories I hold and the practical choices I make that enact these theories. Sullivan and Porter’s (1997) critical practices “acknowledge the rhetorical situatedness of participants, writing technologies, and technology design” (p. 15), and they call researchers like me to methodological reflexiveness, an alert and conscious reflection over all elements of the research scene: the context, the researcher, the participants, and in particular, the technologies in use—technologies like video. This reflexiveness aligns with Kristie S. Fleckenstein, Clay Spinuzzi, Rebecca J. Rickly, and Carole C. Papper’s (2008) approach to research, what they called “ecological research enacted rhetorically” (p. 390). Conceptualizing research as an ecology assumes that “activities, actors, situations, and phenomena are conceived as interdependent, diverse, and fused through feedback” (Fleckenstein et al., 2008, p. 389); that is, each element of the research scene is linked to another and has an active part in meaning-making—including the technologies used. Considering video methods through this lens of research as an ecological-rhetorical situation highlights the interdependent nature of digital tools with actors and other texts. Each piece of the research scene influences and shapes other aspects—as well as the research findings and the knowledge produced. Within such a model, it becomes vital to pay careful attention to and reflect on video cameras as one piece of the research ecology that interacts with and influences other elements.

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There are some in the field that are already using video technologies to observe writers, writing activity, and writing pedagogy and are starting to discuss the role of video in empirical and other kinds of research. Heidi A. McKee (2008), for example, has discussed the complexities of representation, informed consent, and copyright/fair use when using video in qualitative work. Cheryl Geisler and Shaun Slattery (2007) have described using video screen capture to study computer-based writing. Ann Shivers-McNair (2017) has explored “3D interviewing,” where a hand-held or body-worn digital camera is used to examine composing within a makerspace. Bump Halbritter and Julie Lindquist (2012) have detailed a four-phase video-based interview methodology used to collect and distribute literacy narratives, and Patrick W. Berry, Gail E. Hawisher, and Cynthia L. Selfe (2012) have used excerpts of video interviews and writing process videos to inquire into digital literacies. Other writing research using video draws on genres such as documentary film (Fulwiler & Marlow, 2014), memoir (Hidalgo, Cámara, 2017; and “Creating,” 2017), remix (Arroyo & Alaei, 2013; Brown & Marback, 2011), digital storytelling (Adams, 2017) and other experimental kinds of video composition (Berry et al., 2016). Most of these scholars used video for the presentation of arguments, research data, and/or findings. Some of them also have begun to delve into the affordances and limitations of video-based methodologies and methods. Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), for example, noted that video allows them to capture scenic interview data, document emerging scenes of practice, and invite participants into the production process. Shivers-McNair (2017) explained that 3D interviewing enables her to attend to more elements involved in the interactions she observes: words, tone of voice, sounds, posture and movements of people and machines, and the researcher’s placement and gaze. Building on the work of Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), Shivers-McNair (2017), and others cited above, I now turn to discuss how my own research using video has compelled me to reconceptualize the research scene as interdependent: an ecological-rhetorical situation where participants, researcher, scene, and tools constantly influence and rely on one another. Thinking through how the many aspects of Fleckenstein et al.’s (2008) research ecology might contribute to meanings has caused me to seek answers to new questions about the intersections of methodology, methods, and technologies: what kinds of research questions might best be answered through video data? How do choices about when, where, and how to use digital video cameras affect the outcomes of research? When collecting and working with video data, what ethical responsibilities become important for a researcher to think through? What is gained with a focus on the researcher’s role in the co-construction of meaning, a focus facilitated through tools and technologies? I explore some possible answers to these questions in the sections that follow, examining in particular what is gained with more attention to a researcher’s role, selecting this focus because the video technologies I use have led me there. Gathering Data with Video Cameras: The Choice to Use Video Of course, what we study—our research topics and questions—greatly influences how and why we research. For the first-year writing study, I made the initial choice to collect video data because of my central research question: what are some observable indicators of students developing meta-awareness about composition throughout a college writing course that includes instruction in new media? As I considered ways to collect data that might answer this question, I knew that I wanted to focus on observable indicators of student learning. I hypothesized that these indicators might take the form of student talk in class with peers or instructor as well as during interviews. I also wondered if students might do something in class that the video cameras would capture that could be considered an observable indicator of learning: make notes in a notebook, for example, ask a classmate a question about a concept, make revisions to a draft, nod, gesture, or even make a facial expression. Because I wanted to be able to observe, review, and present these and other possible indicators of learning, I decided to record class sessions and interviews on video. I also decided to collect video data within several different first-year writing classrooms at two different institutions so that I could investigate learning through various kinds of student experiences. As I rented cameras and began to bring them into classrooms and interview rooms, though, I quickly realized that using video as a method wasn’t a simple act. Video now became part of the interdependent research ecology, where all elements affected one another. Halbritter and Lindquist (2012) came to a similar conclusion through their LiteracyCorps Michigan project, and they have described how using video cameras and microphones for research changes not only the tools used for data collection, but also the way a study is theorized, conceptualized, designed, and carried out. In other words, just as I experienced in the first-year writing study, different technologies cause changes to a study’s entire methodology. Halbritter and Lindquist (2012) have explained, “using audio and/or video as more than a note-taking device for the author’s sole use demands a retooling of more than the author’s office supplies. It demands a retooling of the methodology—the operation—that will make deliberate use of the pedagogical value of digital video across the study,

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from collection to presentation” (p. 185). The pedagogical value of digital video includes its ability to construct, frame, and reveal multiple representations of data to both researcher and audience. Video allows for viewing and listening to examples, for “discoverability,” and for nuance (Goldman et al., 2007); it can be indexical and evidentiary in that it represents a detailed scene through visuals and sounds, and it is a rhetorical tool for story-telling and persuasion (Halbritter & Lindquist, 2012). Of course, video recording cannot provide an objective or complete record of events or phenomena, but it does provide a persuasive multimodal reconstruction. The topic of Halbritter and Lindquist’s (2012) research—collecting literacy narratives that represent the complexities of literacy sponsorship—also led them to use video as a central part of their methodology and methods, just as my topics of meta-awareness, multimodal composition, and student learning pointed toward video. For Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), video allowed the capture of the scene of the narrative; provided a record of places, choices, events, and conversations; and highlighted less obvious forms and operations of literacy sponsorship. Researchers in the field considering the use of video or other digital tools and technologies might similarly ground their decisions in a careful consideration of research topic, questions, and goals. What kinds of evidence—oral, visual, or gestural, for example—might be useful in answering the research questions, and what digital (or non-digital) tools might be helpful in gathering such evidence? When and how might collecting data with a video camera, which captures movements, facial expressions, context/scene, and sounds along with spoken words, be more useful than other data collection methods, such as written field notes or audio-only recording? When might using a video camera be unnecessary? For me and for Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), we choose video in part because it allows us to gather more data, different kinds of data, and data from sources that are easily overlooked. Gathering Data with Video Cameras: Camera Placement in Classrooms In my work, I use cameras to record interactions between teacher and students as well as student-to-student talk during classroom observations, capturing both images and sounds from the research scene. During interviews, I use cameras to document and preserve participants’ words and voice inflections along with accompanying facial expressions, hand gestures, and bodily movements, as well as the words and movements of me as the interviewer. I use the resulting video data for multiple stages of qualitative analysis, which I conduct with written transcripts, codes, and categories, and also with a video editor, a process I discuss in more detail below. Here, though, I want to reflect on how I’ve come to see choices regarding the amount and placement of cameras as an outgrowth of epistemological values—sometimes tacit, unarticulated values—about where knowledge originates and how it is created in a research scene. In the first-year writing study, I conducted classroom observations using three cameras, as I mention in the opening.1 One camera at the back of the classroom was intended to capture the instructor’s words and movements, one camera in the front of the classroom filmed students’ faces and movements, and a third camera with shotgun microphone was in my hands, traveling with me as I moved about the room. I placed cameras in these locations in order to obtain a visual and aural record of words, movements, actions, and interactions from all parties in the research ecology. Most useful, though, as I reflect on these choices, has been footage recorded with the hand-held camera. While the stationary shots of the whole classroom provide context and show me as the researcher moving about, it is often difficult to see and hear details, especially when the class is working in groups. The hand-held camera provides close-ups focused on one, two, or three participants, has much better audio quality, and records my own movements, interactions, and choices as the researcher. Shivers-McNair (2017) noted that wearing or holding a video camera in her research into boundary-marking in a makerspace highlighted the researcher’s movements and gaze in interaction with participants and scene. Likewise, my decisions of where to move in the room, whom to film, and whether to speak or remain silent are recorded with a hand-held camera, reminding me of my own positionality as participant-observer and role in the ecological-rhetorical situation of each classroom observation. Another benefit to using a hand-held camera is that I chose which participants to record and which not to, more completely honoring some students’ requests not to participate in the study and/or not to be filmed. Other methods of honoring student requests might include asking non-participating students to sit in a certain area outside of the camera shot or recording non-participating students but not using the resulting footage.

1 I have currently conducted a total of twenty-four classroom observations within five different classrooms. For most observations, I used three cameras to collect data, gathering over ninety hours of recorded footage.

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Gathering Data with Video Cameras: Camera Placement in Interviews While I made somewhat successful decisions in advance of classroom observations regarding camera amount and placement in the first-year writing study, thinking through the same issue for one-on-one interviews has proven more complex. McKee (2008) discussed representation when using video interviews, writing that video researchers must decide how to represent themselves: not at all, as a disembodied voice, in a separate shot, or in a shot that frames both interviewee and interviewer. She indicated a personal preference for “full audiovisual representation,” where researchers “try as much as possible to situate themselves in whatever modes they also are representing participants,” noting at the same time that this choice could create new problems (McKee, 2008, p. 109). This option of including myself as researcher in the interview shot did not at first occur to me during the first-year writing study, a fact which I now understand reveals tacit and perhaps limiting assumptions I held about building knowledge through interviews. When I started the first-year writing study, I conducted one-on-one interviews with research participants where one camera was located between me as interviewer and the participant and pointed toward the interviewee.2 I made this choice mimicking documentary interviews I had seen, and I practiced this set up as I conducted interviews for pilot studies. I placed the camera in this position so that the participants’ words and faces would be the focus, but I also considered the products that might be made using the data. I wanted a clear shot of each participant’s face and upper body while speaking, and I imagined that a direct eye line between the participant’s gaze and the camera lens would produce footage in which the participant seemingly spoke directly to audiences (even as they spoke to me, the researcher, right behind the lens). I also considered that a straight-on, mid-level shot would lend itself easily to editing and visual layering as there would be room on either side of the participant to add words via titles. While of course it was possible to design alternate camera setups, nothing was nudging me to reconsider these initial plans. While footage I have collected using this camera placement was useful, appears in this article below, and has been presented in several other published manuscripts (see VanKooten “A New Composition,” “Toward a Rhetorically Sensitive Assessment Model,” and “The Music, the Movement, the Mix”), reflecting over these choices has led me to retool my methodology—in particular, to rethink my role as interviewer and the epistemological assumptions I held about the construction of knowledge during interviews. My chosen methods reflected my values as a researcher: using one camera in between researcher and participant treated participants and their spoken words as the one all-important data source. The camera placement (and my subsequent editing of footage) downplayed and even at times ignored the relationship between me as the interviewer and the interviewee and how our conversations and interactions allowed us to co-construct meanings and build knowledge together. While my interview questions were recorded through the camera’s microphone, there was no visual of me or of bodily interactions to view as I analyzed data. As Cynthia L. Selfe and Gail E. Hawisher (2012), Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), and Fleckenstein et al. (2008) have contended, narratives are influenced by factors such as genre, relationships, and recording technologies, and an interview is an ecological-rhetorical situation with constitutive parts that work together to make and express meaning. Capturing interactions between researcher and participant and exploring these interactions further, then, have become extremely important aspects of a re-tooled methodology that takes the research scene as interdependent and does not ignore the role of the researcher, aspects that demand alternate methods. These new methods require at least two cameras in the interview room: one pointed at the participant as before, along with a second camera where both the participant and researcher are in the shot. Two recordings of participants—one from the side and one straight on—also provide visual information that can be used for comparative analysis or clarification of body language, facial expressions, and gestures. It may also be possible for researchers to negotiate and decide upon camera placement with an interview participant, allowing for a shared design of the research scene. Fig. 1 shows a one-on-one interview with first-year writing student Gerry. Gerry, age 19, took Basic Writing in winter 2016, coming to the university after moving to the US from Chihuahua, Mexico. In his writing course, Gerry was tasked with completing a learning narrative essay, a primary research project that involved composing a collaborative video and a written report, an essay responding to readings, and a reflective portfolio. In this shot, the camera is focused on Gerry as research participant, and his face, upper body, and hand gestures are clearly visible and take up the majority

2 Across the study, I have conducted fifty-eight one-on-one interviews with twenty-six students and instructors from five classrooms, and most interviews were between forty-five and ninety minutes in duration. I recorded interviews from the first half of the study (conducted in 2012) with one camera, and interviews from the second half of the study (conducted in 2016) with two cameras.

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Fig. 1. Interview with Gerry – straight on view.

of the space. The shot is straight on, so a viewer sees his hand movements and his facial expressions from the front as if in conversation with him. From this point of view, I as interviewer am invisible, only entering the research scene through audio. In the moment represented in Fig. 1, Gerry gestures with an open hand extended in front of him as he talks about why he and a classmate selected jazz music for their video composition about the first-year advising center on campus. As he points his hand out from his chest, Gerry states, “We wanted to make a proper, like a serious video about what the first-year advising center was. That’s why we went with the jazzy music.” and he moves his hand down for emphasis when speaking the words proper, serious video, and first-year.3 The straight-on camera angle highlights Gerry’s interpretation of his own experiences and allows a viewer and me as the researcher to re-watch and interpret Gerry’s words in combination with his facial expressions, body language, and hand gestures. The moment when Gerry extends his hand seems more important in his narrative about the music as his emphatic hand gestures line up with key words in his sentence. While some of Gerry’s previous gestures were more circular, these gestures are straight up and down and timed with the rhythm of his speech. Gerry’s face becomes serious at the moment he extends his hand, as well, and the laughing and joking from moments before is no longer evident on this face. His speech, gestures, and facial expression combined indicate that he perceived the musical choice indeed to be a serious one, and one for which he had a carefully considered rationale. Fig. 2, however, presents a second camera angle that captures this same moment. Here Gerry is recorded in profile, and his face, upper body, and hand gestures can be seen from the side. I am also in the shot as the interviewer, seated across the desk and facing Gerry, making eye contact and taking notes on a piece of paper. My face is visible on the recording, and my expressions, body language, hand gestures, and interactions toward and with Gerry are visible as well as audible.4 This second camera angle highlights our interaction as we co-create knowledge about Gerry’s experiences. My prompting of Gerry’s responses through questions and non-verbal cues is visible and obvious. I am happy and smiling as I question Gerry about his musical choice, in part because Gerry cracked a funny joke moments before. Gerry smiles and is cheerful in response, rubbing his face in exasperation as he describes the long process of debating with his partner over composing choices such as the music. Gerry’s up and down hand gestures as he mentions the jazzy musical choice now serve not only for emphasis as he describes the purpose of his video, but also as a conversational link between interviewee and interviewer: the gesture is pointed toward me and bridges the space between us. It is now clear that Gerry’s description of the rationale for 3 Please visit https://youtu.be/6W1XunL tuA to view and listen to the unedited video footage of this interview moment with Gerry. I include a link to unedited footage here and elsewhere to allow readers to make their own interpretations of the data and to highlight how all research involves choices on the part of the researcher. Written subtitles for this and other data excerpts are also available through YouTube by clicking the Closed Captions (CC) button in the video player. 4 Please visit https://youtu.be/gWS 3bh-HfM to view and listen to the unedited video footage of this interview moment with Gerry.

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Fig. 2. Interview with Gerry – side view.

his choice and his accompanying gestures are for me, his interviewer and professor-acquaintance, with whom he has a visible (and somewhat positive) relationship. And as Gerry gestures, I shift my gaze from his face to my notes and begin to write, indicating that this moment has contained information that I want to record in writing. All of these details provided by this second camera shot are useful for analysis. As a researcher, I can more easily discuss our visual and auditory interactions (or lack thereof), I can use these moments to describe in greater detail the state of the research relationship between us, and I can more easily present data to audiences that persuades them to agree or disagree with Gerry’s claim about his music, for example, or even that allows them to draw their own conclusions about his claim’s rhetorical viability. Recording interviews with more than one camera and including myself as interviewer in the footage is one way I have retooled methods to better align with shifting philosophies about how knowledge originates. This altered methodology now seeks to better support reciprocity through self-reflexivity, what Gwen Gorzelsky (2012) might call an “experiential approach” to research that uses systematic means of incorporating reflexive material, as well using reflexive data to construct theoretical frameworks (p. 351). Gorzelsky’s (2012) experiential research methods created conditions for “a shift in the researcher’s perceptual structures” (p. 360)—the kind of methodological shift I myself have experienced through a more careful look at my own role in the research scene. It was only through the messiness of using video cameras for research and then reflecting on what I had done that I began to understand the limitations of my original methods and the need to shift and better articulate methodology. Now, my re-tooled methodology seeks to better acknowledge and present the interactional, interdependent nature of the ecological-rhetorical situation that participants like Gerry and I inhabit together. Shifted methods must then include examining, discussing, and highlighting my own role as researcher and co-creator of meaning as I listen to participants, laugh with them, prompt responses, and ask questions. This reflexive, experiential focus is not mere self-indulgence; instead, it illustrates a desire to represent the learning of participants and researchers in a research scene, the kind of learning “that revises one’s attitudes, perceptions, and behaviors as one internalizes new values” (Gorzelsky, 2012, p. 369). All researchers—and particularly those using video—might benefit from thinking through ways to revise and shift methods to better reflect a methodology of interdependence, a methodology that overtly considers factors that work together and influence one another. How might we record and reference facial expressions, gestures, and interactions within the research scene: on video, in field notes, and in our write-ups? What changes might each of us make to our methods that would help us reconsider and reshape methodology to value all aspects of the research ecology? Analyzing Data with a Video Editor: Traditional Qualitative Methods combined with Experimental Methods The move from data collection to data analysis with digital tools within the first-year writing study has also been a site for considering and revising methodology and methods with interdependence in mind. To enact analysis, I am learning

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to employ both qualitative research methods associated with a grounded theory approach and more experimental, video-based methods. Geisler and Slattery’s (2007) work with analyzing video screen captures reminds me that video data is always selective and partial, and thus “can present researchers accustomed to text-based research with significant challenges in analysis” (p. 192). In response, they developed a two-phase analytic procedure that included reviewing captured video for first-order (directly “readable”) phenomena and then inferred, less-obvious phenomena. Similarly, I have learned that taking a multi-part analytical approach is useful. Drawing on methods elaborated by Sharan B. Merriam (2009) as well as Juliet Corbin and Anselm Strauss (2008), I first take part in processes of open coding, analyzing data for concepts, and integrating categories. I try to “open up the data to all potentials and possibilities” and “[let] the data and interpretation of it guide the analysis” (Corbin & Strauss, 2008, p. 160) as I look and listen for evidence of students developing knowledge that speaks to concepts that arise from the data. For the first-year writing study, codes, concepts, and categories have included various indicators of meta-awareness about composition and different aspects of processes related to transfer across media. Established qualitative methods such as open coding and identifying concepts and categories help me to decide what portions of data might be useful to include in subsequent rounds of more experimental analysis performed with a video editor. Using a video editor for second or third rounds of data analysis then allows me to experience and play with concepts identified in earlier rounds. I have edited multiple clips from interviews together, for example, using a split screen effect, or I have composed video sequences that highlight or repeat sounds or quotations—multimodal methods that call attention to my own role as researcher and co-producer of knowledge as I shape video products that might be shared. Media scholar Jason Mittell (2017) has observed that this kind of analytical experimentation is valuable and allows for new ideas, approaches, and affective engagements. In a video analysis of the film Adaptation’s use of anomalies, for example, Mittell (2016) used the film’s own sounds and images, split screen effects, voiceover, image sizing, and sound effects to make a commentary on the film. While there are surely notable differences between my work with observational and interview-based video data and Mittell’s (2016) work analyzing studio films, I am learning to use some similar multimodal, video-based methods. For me, these include designing and reviewing visual and aural juxtapositions, assembling “multimodal quotations,” and composing captions and narration that emphasize, contextualize, or explain important pieces of data. Analyzing Data with a Video Editor: Juxtaposition The first analytical video method I have experimented with involves designing new visual and aural juxtapositions with recorded data, and then reviewing the juxtapositions repeatedly as I consider the meanings made. In his textbook for digital media writers, Sean Morey (2017) defined juxtaposition as placing two or more media elements (images, sounds, or words, for example) in close proximity to one another for effect. Research material manipulated through a video editor in this way might be juxtaposed in succession (placing one video clip before another) or concurrently (placing one video clip on top of another). One example of juxtaposition in succession can be found in an analysis video I composed for the first-year writing study about research participant Lauren.5 Lauren, a freshman, took the course “Writing and Academic Inquiry” in the fall of 2012. In the class, she completed four scholarly projects (three essays and one video composition), several reflective analysis papers, and a final reflective self-assessment essay. In the video I composed about Lauren’s learning, I took selections of interviews that were identified through open coding and concept analysis and placed them back to back. These clips were recorded over time: class observations took place across November, a first interview with Lauren occurred in December, and a second was completed in January. Video editing software allowed me to take important clips and quotations from across and after the semester, place them in close proximity to one another, and re-watch and re-listen to them in succession. This process encouraged me as a researcher to examine pieces of data in relationship to others, to think more about the big picture, and to consider quotations and statements in the context in which they were spoken as well as within the entirety of a course and semester. Juxtaposition can also be composed concurrently, as Fig. 3 illustrates. In this example, I placed a clip of Lauren speaking about her video composition overtop of a portion of her video composition itself, reducing the size of the interview shot and including it visually in the bottom right corner of the screen. This act of concurrent juxtaposition 5

To view this video in its entirety, please visit https://youtu.be/zomH42jvwwo.

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Fig. 3. Footage from an interview with Lauren placed in concurrent juxtaposition with her video composition “Saving the Arts”.

allowed me to listen to Lauren’s comments about her work and view her facial expressions and body language while simultaneously viewing and listening to her work itself, the subject of her spoken narrative. The resulting video contains several purposeful aural and visual juxtapositions, points where an interpretation of Lauren’s comments during the interviews might shift or be extended due to what is seen and heard at a particular moment in her video composition. Altering the alignment of Lauren’s interview with her video composition could also affect what meanings might be made from the combinations of these two data sources. One moment of purposeful concurrent juxtaposition occurs as Lauren describes her use of a “shift” from a logical appeal to an emotional appeal in her video “Saving the Arts.” In the interview footage, Lauren states, I shifted it towards, instead of having logos, I switched it to pathos [. . .] having it go from like, oh, upbeat music, kind of like, doo-wah-yeah, sonata, whatever, from the logical parts, and then have it be silent while they’re just talking. It’s a minor change, but for me, I’m like, oh yeah, that makes sense. I really like my shift. That was the best part of my video. As part of the analysis process, I took footage of Lauren speaking this quotation and juxtaposed it concurrently with the video sequence where the aural shift from sonata (logos) to silence (pathos) occurs. The juxtaposition is timed so that Lauren verbally gives the description of the shift as viewers watch images from the logos sequence that includes piano sonata music. As Lauren completes her comment, I removed the visual of her speaking and turned up the volume of her video “Saving the Arts.” Audiences can then hear the move to a pathos appeal she just described as the music fades to silence and her interviewees continue speaking without accompanying background music, and they can hear, see, and judge for themselves whether the aural shift to solemn silence that Lauren intended is indeed persuasive and “the best part of [the] video” or if there might be alternate interpretations of her authorial moves.6 Concurrent and successive juxtapositions like these examples from Lauren’s material make patterns and moments of triangulation in the data visible and audible. These methods provide a way to group and categorize that is functionally similar to print-based data analysis techniques such as organizing coded material or making conceptual maps. Composing juxtapositions with a video editor, though, is a more obvious multimodal process that uses words, sounds, images, sequences, facial expressions, and gestures and does not limit analysis to the printed word. The multiple juxtapositions made possible with a video editor remind me how important it is for all researchers to reflect on how methods for data analysis might foreground or obscure certain types of data and phenomena: spoken, written, image-based, or sound-based, for example. One affordance of using a video editor is that the software enables the researcher to hear and see multiple pieces of data, even simultaneously.

6

To view and listen to this sequence, please visit https://youtu.be/zomH42jvwwo?t=207.

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Fig. 4. A view from the video editing timeline showing a concurrent juxtaposition of Lauren’s video “Saving the Arts,” a “rough cut” of Lauren’s interview, and a “basic lower third” title.

My own role as a member of the ecological-rhetorical situation that this multimodal analysis process is part of is important to reflect on, as well, and the video editing software itself highlights my role as co-creator of meaning. As a researcher within the ecology at this stage of analysis, I review transcripts, videos, codes, and categories; select clips and quotations; make cuts and splices; place clips in an order; add narration or other pieces of data (such as the student’s own video composition), rearrange the pieces again and again, and decide how many times to re-watch and re-listen until I arrive at an insight or decide to keep tinkering. With this kind of multimodal analysis through a video editor, my choices become visible and audible through the timeline in the software, and each time I return to the timeline to make more changes, I see and am reminded of prior moves and decisions represented visually (see Fig. 4). And just as the video editing timeline nudges me to reflect on my own role in the research ecology, so might all researchers choose to reflect on how digital and non-digital analysis tools highlight or deemphasize actors and parts of the ecologicalrhetorical research situation. Some qualitative coding software, for example, might also highlight researcher moves and decisions through visually displaying researcher-authored codes within written transcripts. Researcher decisions to label or code certain pieces of data are then visible and might even be color-coded, rearranged, and purposefully reflected upon. Analyzing Data with a Video Editor: Multimodal Quotations Another kind of juxtaposition I am learning to use as part of the analysis process is a multimodal, layered quotation. To compose a multimodal quotation, portions of interviews can be combined with other data sources such as a student’s video product, written quotations from a student essay, or music from a student composition. One clear example of what a multimodal quotation might look and sound like is another sequence from the video about Lauren where I reference her written reflection essay. In this sequence, I type out three sentences from Lauren’s essay and animate them to appear one after the other on a slide (see Fig. 5). While the quotations appear, the audio track includes my voice as spoken narration exploring the significance of the written quotes, as well as a free-for-reuse recording of Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 16 in C, the same song that Lauren used in parts of her own video composition “Saving the Arts.”7 The sequence thus contains four simultaneous “mini-quotations” rolled into one larger multimodal quotation: three pieces from Lauren’s written reflection essay given through sentences and one piece from her video given through music. This layered quotation is visually represented through the editing timeline, where each aspect of the multimodal quotation is visible via a colored horizontal bar (see Fig. 6). The researcher’s role in composing these kinds of multimodal quotations again becomes important to pay attention to. Similar to a researcher who works solely with codes, categories, and quotations in print, the researcher using video must decide which pieces of a participant’s recorded narrative to include, as well as make decisions about how to 7

To view and listen to this multimodal quotation, please visit https://youtu.be/zomH42jvwwo?t=306.

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Fig. 5. Written quotations from Lauren’s reflection essay, presented on video.

Fig. 6. The video editing timeline for the sequence represented in Fig. 5, including written quotations (at the top), my own narration (in the middle) and Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 16 in C (at the bottom).

transcribe a participant’s speech, where to begin and end the quotation, and if any material from the quotation might be excerpted—a complex process that Halbritter and Lindquist (2012) have discussed in their own work and the work of Deborah Brandt. For Halbritter and Lindquist (2012), the desire to “value not only the hesitations and misstarts, but also the embodied performances of those we interview” (p. 183) led them to “pick up some video cameras” (p. 184). Doing so, however—picking up cameras—and then composing multimodal quotations with the resulting footage, requires even more choices on the part of the researcher: how many layers might be included? Which parts of what data elements might be combined, and why? When might the researcher literally speak during the quotation (as I do through narration in the example above), when might the researcher speak through editing only, and when might the researcher “step away”? Because composing multimodal quotations in a video editor allows for more presentational options, the researcher’s role in the production of meaning is essential. McKee (2008) addressed similar issues in her discussion of representing participants, urging video researchers to “balance their desires to give participants voice while at the same time trying to provide interpretative, analytic frames because for the research community, researchers do have a responsibility to provide analysis” (p. 109). Offering only unedited video quotations, then, most likely would not provide needed analysis and interpretation, but too much editing might also be unhelpful. McKee (2008) concluded that digital writing research multiplies decisions and raises ethical

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Fig. 7. A caption used for emphasis with Lauren’s interview footage.

stakes, suggesting that video researchers would be wise to proceed with “extra care” (p. 110). As I am learning through my own work, such extra care involves a continual reflective consideration of all elements within the ecologicalrhetorical situation, including the needs of the researcher and research community (which may require the presentation of a persuasive, polished product), as well as a willingness to rethink and revise methods and methodology accordingly. Analyzing Data with a Video Editor: Captions and Narration A third analytical method I use is to compose and revise captions and narration to combine with data to create a persuasive and logical research story. This method involves viewing and re-viewing portions of data and other footage I have already composed such as juxtaposed sequences or multimodal quotations and deciding where my own commentary might knit elements of the research scene together. As Fleckenstein et al. (2008) have reminded me, “researchers relate what they experience—the things-in-themselves—in a mode that is both meaningful and coherent, while recognizing that other (although not infinite) meanings and coherences are possible” (p. 404). Video captions and narration are tools for co-constructing and presenting one possible meaning with the data. I use captions in various ways, combining them with classroom, interview, and student-authored video clips: to direct attention, to pair with audio narration and provide summary, to emphasize, and to help audiences identify portions of the audio-visual data they see and hear. Fig. 7 provides one example of captions used for emphasis. The written sentence on the screen draws attention to a key phrase from Lauren’s spoken narrative, making clear that this is the part I as researcher want to point to. The use of voice-over narration is another method of analysis, one that often has been used in more complex ways than written captions. While captions allow the researcher to emphasize or add shorter written (and usually “voiceless”) commentary, voice-over allows for lengthier linguistic analysis that is delivered more quickly through the researcher’s (or another) voice. With voice-over, too, the researcher becomes present aurally in the scene, along with his or her voice qualities that include pitch, timbre, and accent, highlighting the human and embodied nature of the researcher in a more obvious way. Much like written analysis, information presented through this human voice can include contextual information, summary of data, analysis, explanation, synthesis, questions, and more. A researcher must consider how much and what type of information to provide in a voice-over, including how much direct interpretation and commentary. For my video about Lauren, I chose to open and close with information delivered in my own voice. To begin, I introduce Lauren and the topic of her video composition. After showing a bit of her video, I then introduce the over-arching concept of my analysis: Lauren’s development of meta-awareness about composition. Using voice-over allowed me to introduce this scholarly concept that isn’t found within the data itself, but that the data points toward and illustrates. I then close the video with summary statements about Lauren’s learning that can be extrapolated from the data shown. Engaging in these processes of multimodal analysis with video editing software again helps me to acknowledge and forefront my own role in shaping the findings presented, thus reshaping methodology. In seeing my choices represented in the video editing timeline through written captions or hearing my own voice alongside student participant voices, I

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am reminded more often of my embodied role in the ecological-rhetorical situation, and I proceed with the work more aware of our interdependent dance as we co-construct and co-present the meanings made. It was only through processes of making video products with collected data, though, that I began to more specifically reflect over the importance of my own role in the analytic process and the ways a video editor provides a visual and aural reminder of analytical choices. I encourage researchers in the field to likewise examine their own analytic processes and look for places for deeper reflection or further inquiry. Do certain digital analytical tools highlight aspects of the research ecology that might be overlooked or under-analyzed? How are the roles of the researcher, participants, and other elements in the research ecology represented through the analytic process? Presenting Video Data: Ethics and Identification of Participants When researchers collect video data and perform processes of qualitative and multimodal analysis, they can then present research in multiple modes and formats: in print, on video in an online publication, or in both print and video in online journals that allow for both formats. Fleckenstein et al. (2008) argued for these kinds of “diverse discourse options” within their ecological research model, stating that more presentational options are necessary “so that descriptions of reality—descriptions that in part create that reality—are appropriate for that reality” (p. 411). While research involving student learning with digital media such as my own work is published in print journals, digital publishing allows for multiple (and perhaps more appropriate) representations. Online, research participants and student videos can be watched and listened to, multimodal video products can present layered arguments about research data, and researchers can also present written findings. I have learned, however, that the presentation of video data raises significant ethical questions, questions that again place the interdependent nature of the research scene at the forefront of methodology. I have also found that questions of ethics continually arise throughout a research process, not just during a project’s inception and design. Thus it is important for all researchers to keep in mind the ethical implications of the choices they make about data presentation, whether choosing to present work on video or not. One question that has come up repeatedly in relation to conducting interview and classroom research with video cameras is the possibility and utility of allowing participants to be identified through the presentation of the data. In other qualitative classroom studies, it is common practice to assign pseudonyms to participants so that they cannot be identified, as well as for a researcher to provide a pseudonym for the school where the research takes place. When presenting research using video data, though, participants can be seen and heard, and often student participants wear clothing that bears their school colors and name. Some students appear visually in their own video compositions, shoot footage in recognizable campus locations, or include narration using their own voice. These factors make the choice to identify participants and a research site or not much more complicated as a researcher must consider what is included in the data itself, participants’ preferences, the researcher’s own preferences, and the most apt and persuasive format for presentation. One way I have negotiated these complexities is to give participants more information about how and why collected video material will be used, as well as greater choice about how they might be identified. During recruitment and interviews, I speak with participants about what kinds of video products I might make with the data I collect and who might see and hear these products, a choice that aligns with McKee’s (2008) advice to provide participants with information about potential publication venues and any risks of the work being appropriated online. I tailor informed consent documents to include language that explains options for choosing to be identified or not to students (see Fig. 8), and participants indicate how they would like to be identified within the study and their preference for the use of recordings (see Fig. 9). Offering this information aligns with the CCCC Guidelines for the Ethical Conduct of Research in Composition Studies, which recommend that researchers make clear to participants if they will be identifiable and honor any requests that reports contain no identifiable information. The Guidelines also acknowledge that there are ethical complexities related to this aspect of research, stating that “sometimes a conflict may emerge when some participants want to remain anonymous and others want to be recognized,” and CCCC encourages researchers to “resolve” such issues early on during the research before reporting findings. The language of resolution used in the CCCC Guidelines might suggest that ethical issues related to identifying participants are easily dealt with—once—and then solved. I have found that such situations are often much messier than anticipated, and a researcher is rarely presented with a situation that has an easy or simple answer. One complicated situation, for example, occurs when a participating student who has stipulated that her recorded image not be used appears within classroom footage alongside another participant who has given permission. Can this footage be used?

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Fig. 8. Language from an IRB-approved Informed Consent Document for Student Participants.

Fig. 9. Additional language from an IRB-approved Informed Consent Document for Student Participants.

I have learned that there is no one-size-fits-all answer. In the first-year writing study, I have chosen not to use certain portions of data because students who are not participating in the study or who wish not to be identified appear. In other cases, I have chosen to zoom in or crop the shot to focus on only one or two students. Another ethically complex situation related to data presentation might involve a student participant who have given permission to be identified, but observable or audible aspects of identity or behavior (such as voice, accent, body, disability, clothing choices, or mannerisms) might affect how the narrative is received due to the fact that audiences may read voices, bodies, and actions in unintended ways. I have recorded students on video, for example, who speak in a dialect or with a strong accent, who use non-standard grammar and vocabulary, who have visible physical disabilities, or who have completed unexpected, accidental, or potentially embarrassing actions on camera. For me, McKee’s (2008) directive for video researchers to take “extra care” is again useful in such situations. Researchers might provide context that audiences might use as they view and listen to participants, they might edit footage carefully to exclude (or include) portions, or perhaps they might even choose not to show a particular visual or not to use a particular audio recording altogether, even if they have the participant’s permission to do so. Presenting Video Data: Member Checking and Feedback One specific method that has helped me to take extra care surrounding ethical questions about presentation is to solicit feedback from others on the representations of research participants within video products before they are published, a strategy recommended as well by the CCCC Guidelines and Heidi McKee and James E. Porter (2008). One way this

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might happen is to seek participant input through member checking, which Merriam (2009) has defined as soliciting feedback on emerging findings from some of the people that were interviewed. For video research, member checking might involve showing in-process or completed video products to research participants and asking for their comments. I’ve found, though, that student participants rarely offer detailed feedback given their busy schedules, especially when several years may have gone by between data collection and member checking. A second source of useful feedback has thus been others in the field: mentors, local colleagues, and colleagues at other institutions. During small group discussions or in response to conference presentations, others have commented on how I’ve represented participants in videos in ways that have caused me to revise my representations. In one video draft for the first-year writing study, for example, I placed a comedic record scratch sound effect after a student statement. I had hoped to show, in a humorous way, that the student’s statement might be questioned. However, after receiving feedback from a mentor, who was direct enough to tell me that the record scratch undermined the credibility of the student, I decided to omit the sound effect and instead add voice-over narration where I responded to the student’s statement and brought up several questions. This situation is only one example of how I’ve added to, omitted, or re-edited selections of data in response to feedback from others, re-creating and re-telling the story of the participants’ experiences in the most ethically conscious manner possible. These few examples of ethical complexities when it comes to presenting research findings on video, identifying participants, and soliciting feedback on products again highlight the interdependent nature of elements within the research ecology and the researcher’s role in shaping findings “in a mode that is both meaningful and coherent” (Fleckenstein et al., 2008, p. 404)—as well as ethical. As studies are initially conceptualized, all researchers can consider how to create a research environment where ethics are a starting point through the design of recruitment procedures and informed consent documents. Ethics might also be a touch point to return to and consider anew as research interactions occur and as digital or written products are composed for publication. I have learned to foreground and reconsider ethics through the messiness of doing research with video, realizing along the way that some of my choices were not aligned with shifting beliefs about the ecological-rhetorical situation, the researcher’s role, and the ethical treatment of participants. Importantly, I have come to know that altering methods and methodology in response to ethical questions is not a failure of my own research design or implementation; instead, such shifts are part of a dialogic process of continually moving toward greater validity, reciprocity, and respect for participants. A Research Methodology of Interdependence through Video as Method These experiences learning to collect data with video cameras, analyze data using a video editor, and present ethical video products indicate that the research scene surrounding writers at work contains many influencing factors. Conceptualizing this scene as an ecological-rhetorical situation within which the researcher has a key interdependent role has been useful as I remind myself that knowledge built through research is co-constructed and always rhetorical. Using video as a research tool is one way that highlights and takes advantage of the co-construction of knowledge with participants. The questions that have arisen while using video have taught me that the reshaping of methodology and methods is part of a messy, experiential approach to research that seeks epistemological validity and the ethical treatment of participants. While not all researchers in the computers and writing community or in the field more broadly use video, more might consider doing so due to video’s vast potential for the collection, analysis, and presentation of multimodal data. As I’ve shown here, using video encourages researchers to examine their role in the research ecology, a move that fosters shifts in perception that may lead to “a path of revised actions more likely to promote the other’s well-being” (Gorzelsky, 2012, p. 369). Even though there will likely be a learning curve for those who have never used a video camera or editing software, researchers may find that new experiences with video tools will enrich and reinvigorate their processes. More generally, my experiences reveal that greater focus on the interdependent nature of any research situation—one that may or may not include video cameras and editing software—is valuable as we seek to pay more attention to evolving methodologies and methods within the field. This may mean making more room in research designs, in presentations and manuscripts, in undergraduate and graduate curricula, and in journals for extended discussions of methodology and methods and all their interrelated parts. As Fleckenstein et al. (2008) have argued and my own reflections indicate, many aspects of a research ecology contribute to the meanings made, including the role of researchers as we make decisions about recruitment, informed consent, identification of participants, interactions with participants, the organization of

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physical space, digital and non-digital tools, forms of analysis, presentational options, and more. Careful and continual attention to the messy interactions among participants, researcher, philosophies, practices, tools, and contexts is vital as we conceptualize and design new studies, make decisions about technologies, and rediscover and reshape both methodology and methods. Funding This work is supported by a Conference on College Composition and Communication Emergent Research/er Award and by the Department of Writing and Rhetoric at Oakland University. Crystal VanKooten is an Associate Professor of Writing and Rhetoric at Oakland University in Rochester, MI, where she teaches courses in first-year writing and digital media. Crystal’s current research interests include multimodal composition and rhetoric, digital research methods, and transfer in first-year composition.

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