The Unmappable Journey
Reflecting on Progress in Voice Work
Hello Everyone and Happy Monday!
This week, I find myself in the thick of writing over 130 student reports. It’s one of those tasks that feels monumental at first glance, but once I settle into the rhythm of reflecting on each student, it becomes an odd mix of tedious and deeply reflective. The process has me grappling with the act of qualifying progress through grades—an inherently reductive exercise, given the uniqueness of each student’s journey.
The challenge lies in the fact that voice, accent, and theatre work resist being measured in tidy metrics. How do you quantify someone finding ease in their breath, overcoming the fear of being heard, or experimenting with a new accent that brings a character to life? These moments don’t always translate into scores or grades, yet they’re the essence of progress. I suspect every practitioner feels this tension: the institutional need to standardise and measure versus the organic, personal growth we witness in our work.
This question of qualification reminds me of the writer Rebecca Solnit’s idea of “mapping the unmappable.” Solnit suggests that there are spaces—emotional, physical, artistic—that defy traditional mapping systems. The act of trying to chart them can feel simultaneously reductive and illuminating. Like Solnit’s maps, my reports are attempts to document a fraction of a much richer, more complex story.
It also makes me think of the goals many clients bring into sessions. People often approach voice and accent work with a desire to “fix” something: an accent they feel doesn’t fit, a voice they perceive as weak, or a delivery they think lacks polish. But the reality is so much more layered. Progress in this work isn’t about fixing—it’s about discovery. It’s finding new pathways to expression, unlocking confidence, or shifting a mindset. Often, the journey reveals that what they thought was “broken” was simply misunderstood or under-explored.
There’s a parallel here with acting itself. The best performances are often the ones where the actor doesn’t seek perfection but instead invites the audience into the messy, raw, and human process of inhabiting a character. Perhaps writing reports, like acting, requires leaning into that same messiness—acknowledging that progress and growth don’t always fit neatly into a grade sheet but are still worth celebrating.
In moments like this, I’m reminded of something Brené Brown once said: “You can’t measure the immeasurable, but you can honor it.” That’s what I hope to do in these reports—honour each student’s unique voice, effort, and growth, even if the format feels restrictive. I also hope to hold space for the nuance that often goes unseen or unspoken, the small moments of courage and discovery that are the real markers of progress.
Writing these reports is a reminder to me—and maybe to you—that progress is rarely linear, easily defined, or perfectly packaged. Whether in art, communication, or life itself, it’s the quieter, less measurable shifts that often matter most.
Here’s to embracing the unmappable.
M x