Link to the article I chose: Kristóf Fenyvesis (2016). Bridges: A world community for mathematical art.
The article follows the story of Bridges as a deliberately “unrestricted” mathematical community, one that treats mathematics less like a gated subject and more like a shared cultural practice you can make, see, and experience (Fenyvesi, 2016). Rather than centering only formal research and university departments, Fenyvesi frames “mathematical community” broadly, so student groups, extracurricular spaces, exhibitions, workshops, and playful making all count as legitimate mathematical life (Fenyvesi, 2016). Bridges becomes his main example: a moving, global gathering where mathematicians, artists, educators, students, and families meet through talks, installations, hands-on workshops, performances, and collaborative builds, with the point being that math can travel through multiple “languages,” including art (Fenyvesi, 2016). He also shows the behind-the-scenes tension that comes with growth: as Bridges expanded, it had to balance openness with peer review and credibility across disciplines without losing the “come as you are” energy that made it special in the first place (Fenyvesi, 2016).
One idea that made me stop was the claim (via Schattschneider) that “mathematical ideas can be taught through art”(as cited in Fenyvesi, 2016, p. 36). That line landed for me because it names something I’ve been circling for a while: I never developed a relationship with mathematics that felt safe or relatable. The version of math I met most often was abstract, performance-heavy, and strangely disconnected from the world, so “math” became synonymous with fear instead of curiosity. Reading this alongside what I’m learning through developmental and neuroscience-informed work made the connection feel even sharper. A lot of the mathematical confidence we associate with “being good at math” is tied up with early experiences that build spatial reasoning, patterning, and comfort with puzzles and manipulation (Levine et al., 2012). If that foundation feels shaky, then school math can start to look like a locked door. And honestly, my own experience fits that: I’ve always found spatial tasks hard, like mentally rotating objects or “seeing” transformations, and I’ve often noticed that people who love math seem to have an imaginative, visual relationship with space that I don’t default to.
That said, the article also helped me reframe this in a way that supports the direction I’m already taking in my thesis. If mathematical ideas can be taught through art (as cited in Fenyvesi, 2016, p. 36), then math doesn’t have to be introduced as a cold, symbolic system first. It can begin as movement, pattern, design, story, rhythm, craft, and problem-solving that is anchored in everyday life, and that is exactly why STEAM-style interventions that include arts and contextualized content matter. In other words, the goal isn’t to “make math fun” as a superficial add-on; it’s to widen the entry points so children can build the underlying competencies, confidence, and meaning-making that later school math depends on (Levine et al., 2012). For me, this is also a subtle equity argument: if early spatial play and puzzle-rich environments shape later trajectories, then access to those experiences becomes part of how opportunity gets distributed, long before anyone is taking algebra seriously (Levine et al., 2012).
My second stop was reading about Reza Sarhangi and the intellectual roots that shaped Bridges (Fenyvesi, 2016, p. 27). It felt almost comically timely because we were literally talking about Persian carpets in class, and then here’s the article pointing toward Persian and Islamic geometric traditions as living examples of mathematical thinking embedded in decorative arts and craft lineages (Fenyvesi, 2016). It made me think about how easily certain mathematical practices get labeled as “culture” or “decoration” instead of recognized as sophisticated knowledge. In colonized ways of categorizing knowledge, whose pattern systems count as mathematics, and whose get treated as aesthetic ornament? The article nudged me to see Bridges not just as a conference but as a kind of knowledge-politics project: it legitimizes forms of mathematical work that don’t always fit the Western academic pipeline, including maker traditions and visual, embodied, and design-based ways of knowing (Fenyvesi, 2016).
So here’s the question I’m left sitting with: When we say “unrestricted” mathematical community, unrestricted for whom? What would it take for school systems to recognize craft-based traditions (like Persian decorative arts, textiles, or local making practices) as mathematics rather than as “art” that is separate from “real” math, and how might that shift who gets to feel capable of belonging in mathematics (Fenyvesi, 2016)?
I’m also adding a few photos from my own research here, because I’ve been trying to document what “math” looks like in low-income rural households when nobody is calling it math. And honestly, I do think these count. If mathematics is about working with quantity, space, structure, and relationships, then a lot of everyday household activity is already doing mathematical work: estimating and allocating resources, measuring without formal tools, planning sequences of steps, using spatial reasoning to fit, stack, store, route, and build, and constantly optimizing effort, time, and materials. What changes is not whether math is present, but whether it gets recognized as legitimate mathematical thinking. That’s why the idea of an “unrestricted” mathematical community matters to me. It makes room for the possibility that these photos are not “cute examples” beside real math, but evidence that mathematical reasoning is already alive and distributed across daily life, long before school ever names it (Fenyvesi, 2016).
Fenyvesi, K. (2016). Bridges: A world community for mathematical art. The Mathematical Intelligencer, 38(2), 35–45. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00283-016-9630-9
Levine, S. C., Ratliff, K. R., Huttenlocher, J., & Cannon, J. (2012). Early puzzle play: A predictor of preschoolers’ spatial transformation skill. Developmental Psychology, 48(2), 530–542. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0025913




Thnak you Sushi.
ReplyDeleteWhen I think about what it means to call mathematics an “unrestricted” community, I keep coming back to the question of unrestricted for whom. I don’t see math as something that belongs only to classrooms, symbols, or exams. To me, math is fundamentally about patterns, shapes, relationships, and rules—and those things show up everywhere. They appear in science in obvious ways, but I also see them constantly in art, craft, design, music, and architecture.
I think one of the problems is that we treat academic math as the only legitimate version of math. People who choose to study art may not take advanced math courses, but I don’t believe that means they stop learning mathematics. In fact, I think they learn math in a highly specialized way. Artists work with proportion, symmetry, repetition, balance, and transformation all the time. They follow rules and constraints to create something meaningful and beautiful. That feels deeply mathematical to me, even if it isn’t expressed through formulas or proofs.
I also think this narrow definition of math shapes who feels capable of belonging. When math is presented as abstract, performance-driven, and disconnected from everyday life, I’ve seen how easily it becomes something to fear rather than explore. Expanding math to include visual, spatial, and creative ways of thinking would allow more people to see themselves as “math people.”
I know it can be hard to integrate art into math at higher grade levels where everything becomes very specialized. Still, I strongly believe this approach is highly applicable in K–12 education. If art, craft, and pattern-based thinking were part of math earlier on, it could expand our definition of math, make it more inclusive, and help redefine what it means to be successful in mathematics.
Hi Sushi and reading group! My apologies -- I just realized I hadn't added your personal blog link to the link list on our class blog, but now it is there. So from here on in, please do post your weekly blog responses on your personal blog at https://sushi191.blogspot.com/, and your group can respond to them there. (It's ok to leave this week's post and Lee's very thoughtful response where it is, so that nothing gets lost!)
ReplyDeleteI think it’s really great how you wove together the concept of an “unrestricted” math community with your own experiences of math feeling like a locked door. That is a really evocative image. It makes me think about how often math is portrayed as something you have to enter, as if you have to prove your worth before you can get in, rather than something that’s just a part of your life. I think your reference to spatial reasoning research is also really valuable, as it adds another layer to the discussion beyond “some people just are not math people” and into “some people just have not had equitable access to the kinds of experiences that help them feel good about working with spaces and patterns.”
ReplyDeleteYour examples from the rural households, in particular, have lingered with me. The way you articulate the estimation, storage, routing, and planning as mathematical work highlights a type of intelligence that is often missed by school systems. It resonates with what Kristóf Fenyvesi says through Bridges, that math is a thing you make and dwell in, not merely symbolize.
I also value your question of unrestricted for whom. It goes from celebration to critique. Recognizing craft, textiles, or home problem-solving as mathematics could transform who feels capable and competent. This is a shift not only in pedagogy but in power, from gatekeeping to recognizing mathematics as a human, cultural activity rather than a strictly academic achievement.
Beautiful writing here, everyone! Sushi, you might want to read Kwesi Yaro’s MA thesis on a topic related to yours, but in a Ghanaian context! (I can share the link with you).
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