‘The New Life’: Mozambican Art Students in the USSR, and the Aesthetic Epistemologies of Anti-Colonial Solidarity, by Polly Savage
The text focuses on the case-study of Mozambican art students’ experiences studying in the USSR during the Cold War. It examines how Soviet-sponsored educational programmes influenced the artistic practices and professional trajectories of African students. The article reflects on the ideological and pedagogical structures of Soviet art education and their impact on Mozambique’s national cultural policies, specifically post 1974.
When these students arrived in the USSR, they experienced profound alienation because of the linguistic and cultural barrier, starting from scratch in a new language and environment. Students also reported that they lacked prior formal arts education, which contrasted with their highly skilled Soviet peers. This might echo the experiences of some of our students transitioning to UK arts education, whether from international contexts, non-arts disciplines, or diverse socio-economic and educational backgrounds. Such transitions often involve adapting to new languages and navigating unfamiliar educational systems.
In my role managing professional practice studios, I see this dynamic play out regularly. The studios function as a space where students develop independent projects, often inspired by what they see their peers doing. However, for those unfamiliar with the UK higher education system, seemingly straightforward tasks—such as sourcing materials, installing exhibitions, promoting their event—can become significant obstacles. Lacking knowledge of where to start, some students hold themselves back, believing that others are simply more capable. This can lead to disengagement and diminished confidence.
While I am not in a position to alter the curriculum or learning outcomes, it is my role to support a more inclusive learning environment in the studios by recognising these challenges and finding ways to support students in building the confidence to organise activities that will benefit their practice. I am still working to understand how best to achieve this. How can I identify these barriers earlier—before students lose interest? The challenge lies in ensuring that they not only recognise these opportunities but also feel encouraged to seek guidance when needed.
I could, for instance, improve guidance on booking spaces and installing exhibitions through handbooks that break down the steps of organising activities to make them more manageable. Encouraging peer support networks—where experienced students share how they organised their events—could help demystify the process and show that they too can do it. Finally, exploring financial support options could help ease the cost of installation materials and work production for those students to whom costs are a barrier.
The example of the Mozambican students is particularly relevant. Although they eventually caught up with their peers, formed strong relationships, and felt fully integrated into their learning community, the USSR’s pedagogy was far from inclusive, as evident in their experiences throughout their learning journey. Coming from a different background and being marginalised profoundly impacts students’ experience.
References:
Savage, P. (2023) ‘The New Life: Mozambican Art Students in the USSR, and the Aesthetic Epistemologies of Anti-Colonial Solidarity’, in P. Savage (ed.) Art History. John Wiley & Sons, pp. 1078-1100.
Dirty Practice: A Painting Workshop and the Hidden Curriculum
The Dirty Practice workshop was established by Maggie Ayliffe and Christian Mieves, from Newcastle University, as a response to the marginalisation of painting and studio-based fine art education in contemporary higher education (HE). The text critiques how modular HE structures, economic pressures, and contemporary art discourse have devalued traditional studio practices, labelling them as outdated or non-critical. The authors argue that essential elements of art education—experimentation, failure, and hands-on learning—have been sidelined in favour of conceptual and socially engaged practices.
The Dirty Practice workshop, held at Wolverhampton School of Art, created an open-ended learning environment where students and staff worked alongside each other without formal timetables, assessment, or predefined outcomes. It reintroduced ideas of ‘dirty space,’ failure, and personal expression to emphasise their subversive potential.
I specifically chose this text as I was looking for ways of teaching painting more effectively. I have observed that students who take risks tend to develop into stronger practitioners, as experimentation with different media and themes—along with the inevitable failures—deepens their understanding of their work. However, the compressed nature of degree courses, with their short deadlines and emphasis on assessment, often means students are encouraged to prioritise outcomes over process. The slow, accumulative nature of painting can feel at odds with these constraints.
The idea of the Dirty Practice workshop where students can work free from assessment seems particularly relevant. It creates a space where they can take risks without fear of failure, and in doing so, discover unexpected possibilities in their work. The workshop’s structure—where tutors and alumni work alongside students—seems like a strong pedagogical approach. I (as a Fine Art tutor) maintain a painting practice, and many of the challenges my students face are ones I have encountered myself. Often, the references and solutions I offer in tutorials derive from my own recent struggles and discoveries in the studio. In this sense, teaching painting seems like a reciprocal process; just as I help students navigate their work, their questions and approaches prompt me to reflect on my own. Their practices offer an alternative perspective that allows me to project, rethink, and reimagine aspects of my own work and vice-versa.
This two-way exchange also shifts the dynamic of the studio. When students see tutors as active practitioners, it breaks down artificial hierarchies. Encouraging students to work alongside practitioners rather than simply receiving instruction positions learning as a shared process—one that values uncertainty, experimentation, and the lived experience of making. In doing so, students not only engage in the dialogue but also come to understand the value of experimentation within their own practice.
A potential way forward in the tutor-student relationship could involve tutors working on their practice alongside students in the same studios, creating opportunities for dialogue about the work. Alternatively, inviting students into tutors’ studios and shifting the dynamic by having students give tutorials to tutors. This could help break hierarchies, empower students, and encourage critical discussion.
References:
Ayliffe, M. and Mieves, C. (2016) ‘Dirty Practice: A Painting Workshop and the Hidden Curriculum’, in Teaching Painting: How Can Painting Be Taught in Art Schools? London: Black Dog Publishing, pp. 52–57.
Inclusive Crits
Following Workshop 4, in which we discussed the dynamics of crits, I have been reflecting on my own evolving relationship with them. My experience with crits has been integral to my learning journey, transitioning from never having encountered them during my undergraduate studies—having completed my BA outside the UK—to eventually leading them.
I vividly recall my first crit as a Fine Art student at Chelsea College of Arts. The experience was daunting; I had no prior understanding of its purpose or structure. My instinct was to remain as quiet as possible, as I lacked both the confidence and the verbal articulation necessary to engage in discussions about others’ work. This was partly due to unfamiliarity with the format and partly because I struggled to translate my thoughts into spoken English. I knew I was capable of speaking about other people’s work, but I had never done so in English and feared that whatever I said would sound reductive or incorrect.
Now, as someone who leads crits, my challenge is to create an environment that accommodates different ways of learning while being mindful of potential barriers. I find it particularly difficult to ensure that everyone has an equal opportunity to contribute. Some students are naturally more confident and willing to speak, while others prefer to remain silent. Factors such as language barriers, confidence levels, cultural differences, and perceived hierarchies within the group can all influence participation.
In fact, I recently received feedback from a course leader who observed that low attendance in learning development activities is often linked to this imbalance—students who are more confident dominate discussions, while those who feel overwhelmed withdraw and eventually stop attending. This highlights the need for more inclusive approaches that encourage participation from all students.
Referring to the Supporting inclusive and developmental crits, I have identified strategies to address these challenges. One key approach is starting small—using scaffolding techniques to build confidence before expecting students to engage in larger discussions. For instance, rather than asking students to present directly to the whole group, I could first have them discuss their work in pairs or small groups. Then, one pair could present together, fostering a sense of shared ownership over the ideas and reducing the pressure on individuals.
Another strategy I find particularly interesting is the silent crit, which involves using sticky notes in two colours—one for constructive feedback and another for positive feedback. This approach allows students more time to formulate their responses, utilise translation tools if needed, and ultimately leave with tangible feedback they can reflect on later. It also shifts the focus from verbal dominance to written engagement, making it more accessible for those who might otherwise struggle to participate.
Going forward, I aim to incorporate these methods to ensure that crits are not only spaces for critique but also opportunities for all students to develop their confidence and critical thinking skills in a supportive environment.
References:
University of the Arts London (UAL). (2024) Supporting inclusive and developmental crits. Available at: file:///Users/anateles/Downloads/Inclusive%20and%20Developmental%20Crits-Guidance-Sep-2024%20(1).pdf [Accessed 17 March 2025].
Preparing for Publication, Peer Review Group
I established Preparing for Publication, a peer review group designed to support students in refining their materials for publication through constructive feedback from their peers. We have successfully run several sessions and received very positive responses from students, who found their colleagues’ feedback valuable in improving their work.
In addition to the group, I have been facilitating these sessions as part of the Doctoral School’s writing retreat. However, I have noticed a reluctance among students to join. When they first hear about the peer review process, many seem hesitant—some even actively avoid participating. Yet those who stay, perhaps out of a sense of obligation, often end up finding the sessions valuable and enjoyable. This has led me to reflect on what might be discouraging students from engaging in the process.
One potential barrier is the highly specialised nature of the texts being reviewed. The work students bring to these sessions is often original research, which can make it challenging for reviewers unfamiliar with the subject matter. This tends to generate some anxiety, as reviewers might feel pressure to provide expert-level feedback or fear that their comments will not be significant enough. There is an unspoken expectation in academia to sound ‘intelligent’—or at the very least, not to appear uninformed. This can be intimidating, especially for those with less experience in academic publishing.
However, the role of peer reviewers in this context is not solely to assess the content. There are many other aspects of writing that any student, regardless of expertise, can contribute to:
- Clarity and tone—whether the writing is accessible and effectively communicates its ideas
- Structure and coherence—how well the argument flows and whether the sections are logically organised
- Readability—identifying areas that might be confusing or overly complex
- Identifying gaps—spotting assumptions that need further explanation or evidence
Interestingly, even students who initially doubt their ability to contribute often find unexpected connections with the texts they review. They frequently suggest new references, offer reflections from their own disciplines, or highlight areas that might not be clear to a wider readership.
Beyond content-related anxieties, other factors may contribute to students’ reluctance. Some may simply be unfamiliar with the peer review process, unsure of what is expected of them, or lacking confidence in their own writing. Others may perceive academic publishing as an intimidating space, assuming they are not yet ‘ready’ to participate.
Addressing These Challenges
To make the sessions more accessible and encourage participation, I am considering the following approaches:
- Diversifying feedback formats – Not all students feel comfortable speaking in a group setting. Introducing written feedback, annotated drafts, or digital comments might help them engage in different ways.
- Structured feedback templates – Providing clear prompts and guiding questions could help demystify the process and ensure that students feel equipped to contribute.
- Anonymous feedback options – Would some students feel more comfortable participating if their feedback were anonymous? This could be explored as a way to reduce pressure.
- Resources on academic writing – Directing students to external guides, examples, or workshops could help them build confidence in both giving and receiving feedback.