Cloze, reading, learning, life

While working on a little research paper a couple weeks ago, I came across cloze procedure. A cloze test is used to measure the difficulty of a text. In a cloze test, you take a text and replace every fifth word with a blank space. The reader, who has never seen the passage before, reads it and fills in the blanks. It’s kind of like mad libs, but the goal is to choose the correct words instead of just having fun with it.
What’s cool about cloze tests is what they can tell you about learning. By comparing how well readers complete the passage vs. how well they answer questions given a complete text, you can find where the optimal difficulty is. It turns out that there is an optimal difficulty level if you’re looking to maximize information gain. Right around a 35-40% cloze success rate is best if you’ve got an instructor available when needed, and around 50-60% if you’re learning independently.

You tend to acquire the most information with texts at those particular difficulty levels. You bring enough context and prior knowledge, but just enough to get a handle on the new stuff. What’s crazy, if I can stretch it a bit, is that the most efficient learning takes place when you’re stumbling roughly 40-60% of the time.

So it kind of woke me up to thinking, if the goal is to learn and grow, how can I pick and choose the best experiences? I don’t mean it in a snobby sense—“that is below me”—but in the sense of growth and challenge—“this is difficult and worth it.” If you’ve got perfectionism issues (like I do sometimes), sometimes you get stuck doing things you’re great at, because you’re great and being great feels good. But there’s no growth there. So the cloze thing comes into play. Try something where you know you’ll only be partially successful. See what happens.

Lapham’s Quarterly looks like a worthy new periodical. Each volume covers a specific theme and the essays come from a wide range of historical texts. The current issue, “States of War,” draws on Patton, Ruskin, Lenin, Goebbels, bin Laden, Virgil, Tim O’Brien, Whitman, Vonnegut, Tolstoy…

Alec Soth Lecture at the High Museum

Tonight I heard photographer Alec Soth speak at the High Museum, a guest of this month’s Atlanta Celebrates Photography events. It was incredibly cool. It was a walk through his career so far, his major projects and commissioned work, and what he’s been learning. I took several pages of notes in the Moleskine… and now to decipher my handwriting and share a bit. I don’t want to make a transcript, so I’m skipping around and weaving together some of the things he talked about.
Take a look at his big projects: Portraits, Sleeping by the Mississippi (“the 3rd coast”), Niagara, Fashion Magazine, and Dog Days, Bogot?°.

Here are a few of my favorite photographs, matched with Soth’s words that may or may not have been uttered around the time the slide was up:

Back in his high school days, Soth was a painter, but “wasn’t comfortable in the studio.” Too antsy, too fidgety. It was a Joel Sternfeld photo in particular that turned him to photography, one that showed the photographer’s own car in the distance as just another part of the scenery. Like Sternfeld, Soth “wanted to be out in the world.” He was painfully shy when he first got started (“I was shaking, sweating”), but yet he was drawn to portraiture. And the portraits aren’t just snapshot candids—they often take some awkward negotiation with a stranger and time to fiddle with gear and set up the shot. So the photo is not only about the person but also about “the space between us.” The irony is that Soth wanted to be out in the world, drawing on the passion and energy and intimacy, but a lot of his work touches on the desire for withdrawal and evasion and anger and disconnection and decline and violence. So there’s this internal artistic tension.

Soth said, “One of the frustrating things when I show my pieces is people searching for little clues.” So he started taking on specific project themes for his work, one of the first of these was the Mississippi project. In a way, the theme serves as another sort of evasive maneuver—it relieves some of the artistic pressure, the self-consciousness. “I don’t always know what I’m doing at the beginning… it evolves over time.”

Some interesting quotes on his craft, out of context:

  • “For me, photography is not like storytelling… It’s evocative, you make these connections… That’s the poetic model: people respond in their own way.”
  • “A list gets you focused, and then it leads to something else.”
  • “Because I’m a stranger, I can ask a question and get an intimate response.”
  • “I’m trying to please myself… my audience is me.”

And, lastly, Soth’s three levels of artistic achievement:

  1. Entertainment
  2. Information
  3. When the work causes the audience to reconsider their life