BOOK In the Spirit of the Studio

Review by Rebecca Fox

Description:

A practical and philosophical invitation to treat materials, space, and aesthetics not as decoration, but as core elements of how children think and learn.

Key Words: Aesthetics, Materials, Pedagogical Environments

The Pedagogy of Materials

When we talk about curriculum, we often mean content—language, math, science. Rarely do we talk about light, or wire, or the role of a well-placed mirror. But in Reggio Emilia, these elements are not supplemental. They are foundational. The atelier—a studio space found in many Reggio-inspired schools—offers a different understanding of what curriculum can be: something constructed in dialogue with materials.

In the Spirit of the Studio, edited by Gandini, Hill, and Cadwell, doesn’t simply showcase beautiful learning spaces. It articulates a pedagogy in which materials are not passive. They push back. They ask questions. They shape the pace and direction of inquiry. Children do not use materials as tools to express pre-formed ideas. Often, the material leads the thinking.

This is a critical shift.

When children encounter clay, they don’t just shape it. The clay resists, collapses, crumbles. A child’s question—what makes a structure stand?—does not arise from a worksheet. It emerges from hands-on negotiation with the physical world. Learning, then, is not only cognitive. It is physical, aesthetic, relational.

Aesthetics as a Form of Thinking

Aesthetics in early childhood education is frequently misunderstood as visual appeal or tidy design. But in the Reggio tradition, aesthetics is cognitive. It is about noticing patterns, feeling tension, attending to detail. When a child spends twenty minutes deciding how to arrange leaves in a spiral, or choosing the right thread to connect two branches, they are engaged in thinking.

Educator Vea Vecchi, a central voice in In the Spirit of the Studio, challenges us to see beauty not as a distraction from learning but as part of the process of meaning-making. “Beauty,” she writes, “is a way of knowing.”

This requires a shift in how we think about the classroom environment. Instead of treating it as a backdrop, we begin to treat space, light, sound, and composition as participants. Materials are not “prettied up” to entice children. They are selected, organized, and presented to provoke attention and care. They become invitations to wonder.

The Problem with “Art Time”

In many programs, art is scheduled. It happens once a day. Children are given materials—markers, glue, maybe watercolors—and invited to make something, often with a narrow outcome in mind. Clean-up happens on a timer. The goal is expression, but it is rushed.

By contrast, the atelier model asks: what would happen if art were not isolated but integrated? What if materials were available across the day, across the classroom, across the curriculum?

Rather than “teaching art,” atelieristi in Reggio Emilia collaborate with teachers to support investigations that unfold through many expressive languages—drawing, sculpture, photography, collage. The goal is not a finished piece. It is the process of exploring a question from multiple angles. The material is not an afterthought. It’s the method of inquiry.

This is not simply a philosophical choice. It has practical implications. When children are given time to return to their ideas, when materials are consistent and accessible, they develop theories, change their minds, and revise their work. They are doing the intellectual labor of learning—but through hands and eyes, not just words and numbers.

Documentation as a Way of Seeing

Another core practice woven through In the Spirit of the Studio is documentation—not as assessment, but as listening. The act of taking photos, writing down children’s words, and reflecting on their process helps educators see learning more clearly.

Too often, we judge children’s work by its final appearance. But in the atelier, process matters. The smudge, the unfinished drawing, the wire structure that leans too far—all are signs of thought in motion.

Good documentation slows us down. It prevents us from rushing to interpret or correct. It reminds us that understanding develops over time, and often through materials. When we look back on a series of drawings or a set of clay forms, we can trace how a child’s idea has grown.

Documentation, then, is not just for parents or portfolios. It is part of the pedagogy. It deepens the teacher’s capacity to observe, question, and respond.

What This Means for Schools

You don’t need an architect-designed atelier to apply these principles. What matters most is the mindset. Are materials seen as partners in learning, or as distractions to be managed? Is art viewed as enrichment, or as a valid form of inquiry?

Small changes make a difference. Offering wire instead of pipe cleaners. Leaving out mirrors next to the clay. Slowing the pace of cleanup so children can return to their work the next day. Treating mess not as failure, but as evidence of engagement.

This is not about mimicking Reggio Emilia. It’s about embracing a pedagogy of listening, of slowing down, of honoring the many ways children make sense of their world.

Related Resources

• The Hundred Languages of Children – foundational text on Reggio’s approach to symbolic learning
• Bringing Reggio Emilia Home by Louise Boyd Cadwell – practical applications in U.S. settings
• Project Zero’s “Making Learning Visible” – collaborative work between Harvard and Reggio
• Reggio Children Official Site – primary source for pedagogy and publications

Key Takeaways and Next Steps

What You Can Do Tomorrow

• Set up one table with open-ended materials—no instructions, no prompts. Just space to explore.
• Begin a practice of writing down what you notice, especially during messy or quiet moments.
• Add a mirror near your materials to reflect light and invite new perspectives.

Longer-Term Shifts to Consider

• Rethink your classroom environment: What values does it reflect? What is it inviting children to do?
• View aesthetics as part of learning, not something separate from it.
• Explore ways to make art an integrated part of inquiry, not an isolated activity.

Questions to Live With

• How do materials shape the questions children ask?
• What counts as thinking in your setting? Are you noticing it when it’s not verbal?
• What would it take to trust children’s process, even when it looks incomplete?