Development and use of clinical guidelines

The purpose of this chapter is to provide an overview of the development and use of clinical guidelines as a tool for decision making in clinical practice. Nurses have always developed and used tools to guide clinical decision making related to interventions in practice. Since Florence Nightingale (Nightingale 1860) gave us ‘notes’ on nursing in the late 1800s, nurses have continued to use tools, such as standards, policies and procedures, protocols, algorithms, clinical pathways and clinical guidelines, to assist them in making appropriate decisions about patient care that eventuate in the best desired patient outcomes. Clinical guidelines have enjoyed growing popularity as a comprehensive tool for synthesising clinical evidence and information into user-friendly recommendations for practice. Historically, clinical guidelines were developed by individual experts or groups of experts by consensus, with no transparent process for the user to determine the validity and reliability of the recommendations. The acceptance of the evidence-based practice (EBP) movement as a paradigm for clinical decision making underscores the imperative for clinical guidelines to be systematically developed and based on the best available research evidence. Clinicians are faced with the dilemma of choosing from an abundance of guidelines of variable quality, or developing new guidelines. Where do you start? How do you find an existing guideline to fit your practice? How do you know if a guideline is evidence-based, valid and reliable? Should you apply an existing guideline in your practice or develop a new guideline? How do you get clinicians to use the guidelines? How do you know if using the guideline will make any difference in care delivery or patient outcomes? Whatever the choice, the challenge lies in choosing or developing a clinical guideline that is credible as a decision-making tool for the delivery of quality, efficient and effective care. This chapter will address the posed questions through an exploration of the ins and outs of clinical guidelines, from development to application to evaluation.

Stripping Sight Bare : Alison Jones’ ‘Portraits by Proxy’

In this paper I analyse UK artist Alison Jones’ sonic interventions Portrait of the Artist by Proxy (2008), Voyeurism by Proxy (2008) and Art, Lies and Audio Tapes (2009). In Portrait of the Artist by Proxy, Jones – who, due to deteriorating vision, has not seen her reflection in a mirror in years – asks and trusts participants to audio-describe her own image back to her. In Voyeurism by Proxy, Jones asks participants to audio-describe erotic drawings by Gustav Klimt. In Art, Lies and Audio Tapes, Jones asks participants to audio-describe other artworks, such as W.F. Yeames’ And When Did You Last see Your Father?. In these portraits by proxy, Jones opens her image, and other images, to interpretation. In doing so, Jones draws attention to the way sight is privileged as a mode of access to fixed, fundamental truths in Western culture – a mode assumed to be untainted by filters that skew perception of the object. “In a culture where vision is by far the dominant sense,” Jones says, “and as a visual artist with a visual impairment, I am reliant on audio-description …Inevitably, there are limitations imposed by language, time and the interpreter’s background knowledge of the subject viewed, as well as their personal bias of what is deemed important to impart in their description” . In these works, Jones strips these background knowledges, biases and assumptions bare. She reveals different perceptions, as well as tendencies or censor, edit or exaggerate descriptions. In this paper, I investigate how, by revealing unconscious biases, Jones’ works renders herself and her participants vulnerable to a change of perception. I also examine how Jones’ later editing of the audio-descriptions allows her to show the instabilities of sight, and, in Portrait of the Artist by Proxy, to reclaim authorship of her own image.

Space within the surface : the patterned surfaces of Florence Broadhurst and Jim Thompson

The Woods Bagot 2007 refurbishment of the Qantas and British Airways Bangkok Business lounge in the Survarnabhumi Airport features wall finishes designed by wallpaper designer, Florence Broadhurst (1899-1977) and Thai Silk trader, Jim Thompson (1906-1967). This distinctive selection, which is proclaimed on the airport’s website, of patterned wall surfaces side by side draws attention to their striking similarities and their defining differences . Thompson and Broadhurst would appear to be worlds apart, but here in the airport their work brings them together. Thompson, the son of a wealthy cotton family in America, worked as an architect before joining the army. He moved to Bangkok to start The Thai Silk Company in 1948. Broadhurst was born on a farm in Mt. Perry, Queensland. She began her career as a performance artist, as part of an Australian troupe in Shanghai, moving onto pursue a career in fashion design, catering to the middle and upper classes in London. Upon her return to Australia, Broadhurst started a print design company in 1959. Both Broadhurst and Thompson pursued multiple careers, lived many lives, and died under mysterious circumstances. Broadhurst was murdered in 1977 at her Sydney print warehouse, which remains an unsolved crime. Thompson disappeared in Malaysia in 1967 and his body has never been found. This chapter investigates the parallels between Thompson and Broadhurst and what lead them to design such popular patterns for wall surfaces towards the end of their careers. While neither designer was a household name, their work is familiar to most, seen in the costume and set design of films, on the walls of restaurants and cafes and even in family homes. The reason for the popularity of their patterns has not previously been analysed. However, this chapter suggests that the patterns are intriguing because they contain something of their designers’ identities. It suggests that the coloured surface provides a way of camouflaging and hiding its subjects’ histories, such that Broadhurst and Thompson, consciously or unconsciously, used the patterned surface as a plane in which their past lives could be buried. The revealing nature of the stark white wall, compared with the forgiveness provided by the pattern in which to hide, is elaborated by painter and advocate for polychromatic architecture, Fernand Léger in his essay, “The Wall, The Architect, The Painter (1965).” Léger writes that, “the modern architect has gone too far in his magnificent attempts to cleanse through emptiness,” and that the resultant white walls of modernity create ‘an impalpability of air, of slick, brilliant new surfaces where nothing can be hidden any longer …even shadows don’t dare to enter’. To counter the exposure produced by the white wall, Thompson and Broadhurst designed patterned surfaces that could harbour their personal histories. Broadhurst and Thompson’s works share a number of commonalities in their design production, even though their work in print design commenced a decade apart. Both designers opted to work more with traditional methods of pattern making. Broadhurst used hand-operated screens, and Thompson outsourced work to local weavers and refrained from operating out of a factory. Despite humble beginnings, Broadhurst and Thompson enjoyed international success with their wall patterns being featured in a number of renowned international hotels in Bahrain, Singapore, Sydney, and London in the 1970s and 1980s. Their patterns were also transferred to fabric for soft furnishings and clothing. Thompson’s patterns were used for costumes in films including the King and I and Ben Hur. Broadhurst’s patterns were also widely used by fashion designers and artists, such as Akira Isogowa‘s costume design for Salome, a 1998 production by the Sydney Dance Company. Most recently her print designs have been used by skin illustrator Emma Hack, in a series of works painting female bodies into Broadhurst’s patterns. Hack’s works camouflage the models’ bodies into the patterned surface, assimilating subject and surface, hinting at there being something living within the patterned wall. More than four decades after Broadhurst’s murder and five decades since Thompson’s disappearance, their print designs persist as more than just a legacy. They are applied as surface finishes with the same fervour as when the designs were first released. This chapter argues that the reason for the ongoing celebration of their work is that there is the impalpable presence of the creator in the patterns. It suggests that the patterns blur the boundary between subject and surface.