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Emma Bleasel

Liminal spaces for imagination and conversation  

Date: 06/03/25

 Liminal spaces are transformative environments that break down age barriers and social hierarchies, functioning as catalysts for critical, creative, and artistic thinking (Watkins et al., 2019). They act like a haven, where one is liberated from the constraints of social, cultural, and economic barriers—essentially, a utopia. Liminal spaces and utopias share the remarkable characteristic of disrupting the status quo. My fascination with utopias began as a young girl, first sparked in year 12 during a semester dedicated to dystopian novels. We read extensively within this genre. I was particularly drawn to Sir Thomas More's original Utopia in 1516. I found the systematic and practical reconstruction of society to be an extraordinary tool for reimagining the future. It highlighted the potential horrors that could emerge from our current trajectory of consumerism and capitalist destruction. In this way, liminal spaces became my gateway to utopian dreaming.

My first encounter with the concept of liminal spaces occurred during my master's program in teaching, where my art instructor introduced us to creating liminal spaces that encouraged students to think imaginatively and freely, thereby breaking down social power hierarchies. This reminded me of an art class from high school, where my teacher cultivated a classroom environment that alleviated the suffocating constraints of popularity, what was deemed cool or not. As I walked into a nurturing and creative space, I felt a sense of relief. A common trait among art teachers is their commitment to fostering creativity and critical thinking by crafting an environment conducive to exploration and imagination. My curiosity grew into an obsession to identify the key elements that shape such environments. I began to wonder: What do these spaces look like? Are they confined within school walls or as a separate third space outside the institution?

As an educator, I aim to create liminal creative spaces where students can explore their imaginative and idealistic aspirations. Through art and imaginative play, students can experiment with creating future worlds that they would like to live in themselves. While also engaging with climate justice issues. During my master’s program, my tutor introduced us to the concept of liminal spaces by demonstrating the didactics of teaching art. We created intergenerational art experiences where students' artworks were interacted with by adult artists (Watkins et al., 2019). Essentially, this approach emphasises practising art with others as a means of understanding, rather than just demonstrating knowledge of the medium (Sinclair et al., 2017). The use of art for critical reflection is a recurring theme in my research. Trott (2021) highlights how teachers can employ empowering pedagogies that enable children to engage with, reflect on, and respond meaningfully to the climate crisis through the arts. The emergence of a new identity through hybrid forms illustrates that children can answer, take action, and energise their ‘radical imaginations’ (Khasnabish & Haiven, 2014) through artistic expression. De Paor conveys a similar sentiment in Dolan (2021, p.301);

“Art education can lead to a transformative imagination, facilitating agency and change.

Students develop ideas in a visual context and use art as a research tool to interrogate

concepts, co-create work, and to foster wonder and a transformative imagination about the super-wicked problem of climate change ”

As highlighted in the previous quote, I was drawn to the concept of ‘transformative imagination,’ which captures the significant impact of teaching through the arts that I have come to appreciate. I resonate with the idea of art as a research tool for exploring the pressing issue of climate change, a cause I am deeply passionate about. This perspective also supports my educational philosophy, which holds that utilising art to examine real-world challenges allows children to understand and reconsider their stance and connection to such issues. Essentially, it's about painting to understand rather than merely showcasing my artistic knowledge (Sinclair et al., 2017). There is an increasing urgency for educational approaches that foster profound and critical thinking in the classroom (Watkins et al., 2019; Dolan, 2020).

To me, community gardens serve as ideal third spaces for imaginative play that is both liminal and utopic. These gardens represent growth, potential, and community. They are driven to provide solutions to the challenges of our industrial food system. They connect people of all ages, united by a universal need: the joy of delicious, fresh food. I often take my little nephew to our local community garden, where my sister and her wife maintain a plot. Together, we discover fresh produce, picking ripe tomatoes and juicy mulberries. He delights in feeding the chickens fresh greens and splashes around with his baby watering can. This experience goes beyond fun; he learns that food grows from the earth and can be cultivated through care, community, and connection with living things.

I aim to explore the concept of liminal spaces in my Phd, particularly how socially engaged art projects can address climate justice from a practical and hopeful perspective. By engaging students with their community garden, I want to provide them with the freedom to create art that expresses utopic dreams, utilising transformative imaginative exercises and workshops to help them visualise a future they want to live in. An example of how a workshop would be structured follows. It could commence with a soundscape meditation in the garden, encouraging students to be present and connect with nature. This looks like students sitting alone, noting the sounds, narrowing in on one specifically, and giving it a colour or a pattern. Students can then have the option to draw or recreate the sounds they experienced using organic materials found in the garden, where they meditated. I have previously facilitated this exercise with children and adults, creating a vibrant, chaotic canvas. Participants then interpret their soundscapes and attempt to replicate the noise they sought to express through their organic creations. This activity leads into a guided discussion where participants share their observations. During the workshops, the facilitator then guides the lesson in brainstorming climate justice themes they want to address in their community. These workshops will be co-designed with the students by identifying their focus areas. This results in an artwork that is socially engaged at its core, which prioritises social interaction, collaboration, and collective meaning-making over producing a technically perfect product. Interactions with potentially older community members will inspire artwork reflecting their chosen themes.  

Completing this task is more important than the final product itself. It is about how students learn to be influenced by the world around them and how they can respond to that. It encompasses the conversations, agency, and activities students can engage in. Overall, the study focuses on refining the facilitation methods of pedagogical tools to highlight students' agency as change-makers, as they will live in and define the future world they desire. It aims to make them active and informed citizens outside the school walls. It involves having difficult conversations in a hopeful and purposeful space.   

In my past career, I worked with communities across Australia to empower them to understand their ability to effect change on issues they are passionate about. The need to effect change from the bottom up. Making change through community-led solutions is a value I hold on to from this experience. My work as an educator continues my dedication to grassroots actions within the community. As an art teacher, my role enables collaboration with my students through open dialogue and reflective practices that develop skills in them that will last a lifetime in the liminal utopias of their dreaming.

A Conversation with a child from the future about my research

Date: 10/03/25

Child (aged 12): What do you DO all day sitting at that wooden desk typing on that mental box?

Me: Hello, little strange child from the future. That's an excellent question. I ask myself, ' Why do I spend all day trapped at this desk? ' This is likely also the answer I am better equipped to provide. But you didn’t ask why; you asked what, so I will give you two answers for the price of one question…

Child (interrupting rudely): Get to the point, old lady.

Me: Oh, wow. I may be from 80 years ago, but I am not old, thank you very much. Okay. So I am studying for my Phd. I am researching how to best teach children like you about climate change in a way that doesn’t frighten them, but instead empowers them to take action. In my current world, we refer to it as the climate crisis, and that term often overwhelms students with fear and sadness.

Child: When you use a word like ‘crisis,’ they will be anxious.

Me: Valid point

Child: Why would the climate make kids sad? The climate in my world is simply a note on my palm planner that tells me what to wear daily, whether a gas mask or a simple face mask. There is also use in changing how we learn about it. It is our life. A life that was created by you, past people

Me: Oh, wow, we don’t have a Palm planner. You are right; we created your reality. For now, we can breathe the air around us.

Child: Well, lucky you. My mum calls your generation the ‘talkers and non-doers‘

Me: Well, that is very fair. Our world is experiencing a climate crisis, where rising temperatures beyond 1.5 degrees are causing irreparable damage across ecosystems, societies, and economies…

Child (rightly interrupting): The second most significant mass extinction after the ice age…blah blah blah. I’ve heard it all before. They talk a lot about your generation in school. You killed my favourite Australian native, the Koala.  

Me: I am deeply sorry for that. They refer to it as a climate emergency today. Many students like you, of your age, were striking from school not long ago to demand more action. Then we faced a disease called COVID that spread rapidly, temporarily shutting down the world.

Child: Sounds scary. My grandpa talks about this time and cries.

Me: Yes, you are very right. It’s a pretty scary time to be alive, especially for kids like your grandparents. Kids today are growing up more anxious about the state of the world than ever. People are very divided in their opinions, which causes a lot of anger and upset. The kids hear all this from the news, social media, and their family and peers.

Child: So what are you doing about it?

Me: I am trying to teach students in schools about this crisis in a relatable, enjoyable, and practical way. I used to bring activism into the classroom so kids don't have to leave school to exercise their rights as citizens. I am researching the most effective approaches to teach students about climate justice education, framing the climate crisis as a human crisis that affects vulnerable communities, like those living in the centre of our community, our First Nations people. I aim to empower students to become active citizens through creativity and community engagement.  

Child: My mum talks about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people in Australia. She says they were always right. We should have listened and worked together, acknowledging their ways of knowing, being, and doing. She mentioned that the generation of talkers and non-doers discussed feeling sad and sorry, offering many acknowledgements for the way people’s homes and lives were taken away, but never really acted upon it. Being truly sorry means not only explaining why but also acting differently. Acknowledging that it is someone’s home means respecting their rules, such as taking your shoes off or not damaging it.

Me: Your mum is a wise woman. I want to ensure that we do not continue to produce more talkers and non-doers. We want kids to learn about what is happening on our planet in a way that doesn’t lead to depression, disengagement, and inaction. I want to teach students in fun, creative, and practical ways how to envision participating in a more hopeful future where they won’t have to rely on oxygen tanks to go for a walk.

Child: How will your research change the world for these children?

Me: The aim is not to change the world but to empower students to think and act differently. We aim to equip them with the tools of critical and creative thinking by engaging in gardening activities and utilising art to conduct experiments with their thoughts. This way, students leave school empowered to act together on climate justice as active citizens. We need more togetherness and cohesion to address our current disconnected world. We require radical out-of-the-box thinking to achieve active hope and learn how to do so together in school…

Child: Okay, I’m bored with you talking and living up to your generation's name. Can we play?

Me: Let’s leave this stuffy room and play in the garden. I want to show you something.

10 things I should stop doing

Date: 15/03/25

1)    Waiting for inspiration to write

2)    Prioritising productivity over sustainable routines

3)    Writing unachievable to-do lists for a day

4)    Filling time with “busy work”

5)    Reading papers without taking structured notes

6)    Avoiding reading about topics that interest you less

7)    Questioning my positionality

8)    Questioning my validity as a researcher and writer

9)    Overloading my weeks

10) Trying to control the future outcome  

10 things I should start doing

1)    Embracing uncertainty

2) Structuring my days with ABC time. At times, I am most productive, therefore doing the hardest and most mentally taxing tasks. Then, there is B time, which involves middle school productivity, active reading, and reviewing papers. Finally, C time reading emails and admin

3)    Reading far and wide. Engaging with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander academics to start decolonising my literature review

4)    Limiting phone time

5)    Creating achievable goals and sticking to them

6)    Reflecting weekly on my positionality as a researcher and what brings me joy.

7)    Practising taking ethnographic  notes after my community garden visits

8)    Engaging deeply with creating my principal lead methodology

9)    Organising and checking that my references are correct in Zotero

10) Creating an ethics plan

Something that I notice changing about my ideas, study, identity and feelings about study

 Date: 10/04/25

Recently, I have noticed a significant shift in my approach to the way I think about my thinking. Or to use an educational term, my metacognition. I have always viewed my mind as a 3D map of a global landscape. Each new big idea alters that landscape, and I visualise every radical shift as a physical terrain movement. Each radical shift changes my perspective of the world, place, and identity. My perspective on this mental shift has evolved as I view this mental landscape as a uniquely global entity, reminiscent of the world depicted in the Barbie film. My understanding of the world can never be an objective projection of reality; rather, it is my carefully crafted version, assigning a narrative to a dynamic interplay of regenerated ideas and thoughts.

As a result, my mental landscape has been shifting so dramatically recently that it feels as if a natural state has emerged in my 3D Emma world, unearthing the very foundations of that world. This transformation has occurred through conversations with fellow researchers, supervisors, readings, and lectures.  These experiences have helped me understand how I view research and approach a topic that has been very near and dear to my heart for many years- a little seedling growing at the centre of my 3d projected Emma global landscape. More significantly than developing understandings, I have been grappling with misunderstandings and embracing the uncertainty that comes with confusion. I view this as a post-disaster reconstruction process, as some rooms in my mental landscape were outdated and filled with old information. They were in dire need of renovation.

Especially the room labelled Emma’s research identity. I never believed I would be accepted into a PhD program, let alone be capable of the level of study and thinking required. But these old, restrictive, and patriarchal-backed ideas of inadequacy are being ripped down like the mouldy patterned wallpaper of your grandma’s home. Because they are not my ideas; they never were. They were furnished in my mind years before I came into this world. They were encoded in my cells through my grandmother’s egg. Therefore, I am undergoing a mental regeneration. All non-essential, outdated, self-constraining ideas of who I am and what I am capable of must go.  I’d hold a garage sale, but since no one deserves these ideas, I think a bonfire seems more fitting.

Therefore, I label my significant change a mental refresh, where I want to create space for productive and helpful thought experiments. Self-confidence in my academic identity is a daily practice I engage in.

A big issue I’m struggling with

Date: 13/03/25

While trying to narrow my focus in my studies, I struggle to define the specific group I aim to help. My attempt at answering the question:

How can educators teach climate justice education in Australian schools in a transformative way that promotes active participation and practical solutions among students through community gardens, utilising socially engaged arts approaches?

Specifically, what do I want students to take away from these programs or school?

First, I am struggling to identify the specific students I am targeting. Who do I want to design this educational program for? The school area I work in is the more progressive Green Inner West region. These city kids could be the perfect target group or case study to launch the educational program, as they need a stronger connection with nature that is not linked to access and privilege, but instead focused on giving back and reconnecting with ideas of nature that emphasise helping others. Alternatively, does this program need to be adapted to be more inclusive of students in Western Sydney who are less privileged and experience the extreme heat of climate change? Those who lack access to educational programs that take them outside the classroom.

My why is finding out how to give students an avenue to give back and another way of decolonising their perspective of owning nature and its resources. Then, the inner-city kids are the perfect target, allowing them the opportunity and perspective to act on climate justice, and giving them a joyful and fun way to rethink their privileged position. The aim is to create an educational program that decolonises the concept of climate and empowers students to find and develop their relationship to climate justice.

In this way, I aim to answer the original question. I want students to feel empowered to act and be citizens worldwide. I aim to equip students with tools for enacting change on climate justice issues they care about in creative and engaging ways, utilising the methods of social change and incorporating active hope from my activist and community organising career, as well as the engagement tools I have learnt from my teaching career. This will enable students to envision a more hopeful future where they can be active citizens, as we require a more cohesive cohort to address our current social context.

Contextual mapping

Date: 22/04/25

We live in a world where the term ‘unprecedented times’ is frequently used. Our students hear this from their parents, the news, and social media. Social cohesion is at an all-time low. Social cohesion refers to the interconnectedness of people with one another and their trust in the institutions that structure society. It is a crucial element of societal stability and security. As challenges to social cohesion grow, the need for inclusive and supportive communities becomes critical. Ensuring our Australian classrooms are inclusive environments where students feel safe to experiment with ideas is an urgent mission for educators. Students must feel secure enough to change and actively evolve their mental landscape of the world. We must teach students how to think by providing them with a rich toolkit of thinking strategies. This approach allows them to practice their critical thinking without judgment or rejection. This is becoming increasingly difficult in a world rife with ‘cancel culture’. 

Within strict institutional structures, students are hindered from actively exploring significant ideas and concepts, such as forms of power, systems of oppression, and the institutions and structures that uphold them—all crucial elements in understanding climate justice. Creativity, art, nature, and community serve as vital tools that connect people and dismantle the mental barriers many students face.