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Ableism in the U.S. art context: curators, art museums, and the non-normative body
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Ableism in the U.S. art context: curators, art museums, and the non-normative body
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Content
Ableism in the U.S. Art Context:
Curators, Art Museums, and the Non-Normative Body
by
Yishan Xin
A Thesis Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC ROSKI SCHOOL OF ART AND DESIGN
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
MASTER OF ARTS
(CURATORIAL PRACTICES AND THE PUBLIC SPHERE)
May 2024
Copyright 2024 Yishan Xin
“The best access feels like love, not compliance or simply the procedural meetings of rights.”
— Mia Mingus
ii
Acknowledgements
In crafting this thesis, I am deeply grateful for the enriching moments shared with my supervisor,
Professor Amelia Jones, whether through lectures, seminars, or conversations. Her meticulous
reviews of my proposal and previous drafts have played a crucial role in shaping this research.
I am also indebted to Professor madison moore for introducing me to crip theory and queer
theory, guiding me to reimagine the concepts of time and space beyond the confines of “ideal”
and “average” bodies and minds.
Heartfelt thanks to my cohort members, who always create an emotionally safe environment for
talking through such complex issues.
Lastly, I would especially like to thank my sister, Betty Zhao, for her constant love, boundless
joy, and enduring encouragement.
iii
Table of Contents
Dedication ....................................................................................................................................ii
Acknowledgements .....................................................................................................................iii
List of Figures ..............................................................................................................................v
Abstract .......................................................................................................................................vi
Introduction ..................................................................................................................................1
Chapter One: Curatorial Approaches to Access ......................................................................... 7
The Responsibility of Curator .........................................................................................7
Access Aesthetics, Crip Curation and Creative Access ..................................................8
The Risk of Creative Access ..........................................................................................12
Chapter Two: Hidden Ableism ..................................................................................................14
Unlearning Ableism .......................................................................................................14
Accessibility as an Afterthought ....................................................................................16
Disability as a Spectacle ................................................................................................18
Chapter Three: Three Case Studies ............................................................................................22
RE/FORMATIONS ........................................................................................................22
What Can A Body Do? ...................................................................................................30
Sick Time, Sleepy Time, Crip Time ...............................................................................36
Conclusion .................................................................................................................................40
Bibliography ..............................................................................................................................43
iv
List of Figures
Figure 1: Installation view, Hammer Projects: Chiharu Shiota (2023), Hammer Museum, Los
Angeles ...........................................................................................................................................1
Figure 2: Raphaëlle de Groot, installation shots of Study 5: A new place (2015) ........................10
Figure 3: Darrin Martin's, installation shots of Objects unknown: Sounds familiar (2016) .........11
Figure 4: Installation views, Saving Faces (2002), National Portrait Gallery London ................20
Figure 5: Installation views, Saving Faces (2002), National Portrait Gallery London ................20
Figure 6: Installation view, RE/FORMATIONS (2009), Van Every Gallery, Davidson College...23
Figure 7: Harriet Sanderson, Molt, With Scurs (2008) .................................................................24
Figure 8: Laura Splan, installation view of visitor interaction with Doilies (2004) .....................25
Figure 9: Judith Scott, Untitled (JS 27) (1997) .............................................................................26
Figure 10: Harriet Sanderson, Molt, with Scurs (2008) ................................................................28
Figure 11: Installation view, What Can a Body Do? (2012), Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery,
Haverford College ........................................................................................................................30
Figure 12: Installation view of Songs Without Words (2017) .......................................................31
Figure 13: Carmen Papalia, Blind Field Shuttle: Portland, June 16 & 17 (2012) .......................32
Figure 14: Artur Zmijewski, An Eye for an Eye (1998) ...............................................................34
Figure 15: Installation view, Sick Time, Sleepy Time, Crip Time (2019), Red Bull Arts Detroit,
Detroit, MI ................................................................................................................................... 37
v
Abstract
This thesis examines the pervasive impact of ableism in art museums across the United States
through an exploration of disability-themed exhibitions. It argues that curators should embed
accessibility into the material, structural, and conceptual aspects of an exhibition, aiming to
eliminate reductive interpretations of the disabled body. This critical approach is grounded in the
theoretical frameworks of “disability aesthetics,” a concept introduced by the disability studies
scholar Tobin Siebers, and “creative access,” a notion championed by the independent curator
specializing in disability art, Amanda Cachia. This thesis further offers an outline of the
differences between the medical and social models of disability, as well as how certain
exhibitions vividly reflect these models. Concerns about the lack of consideration of the disabled
experience in the curation of exhibitions are raised, indicating the need for further research in
this field. Indeed, art museums have been slow to respond to disability-related narratives. This
thesis aims to address this gap and contribute to the critical discourse. While analyzing how
fundamentally entrenched ableism is in every aspect of the construction, curation, and navigation
of art museums, this thesis concludes by presenting three exhibition examples that step towards
accessibility, elicit new ways of understanding disability, and produce a radical form of empathy.
vi
Introduction
My sister is a big fan of the artist Chiharu Shiota. She missed the artist’s major show at the Long
Museum Shanghai in 2022, so she was thrilled when she received news that Shiota was
showcasing her installation work as part of the Hammer Projects at the Hammer Museum in Los
Angeles, spanning the entire lobby space. Unfortunately, she was unable to fully experience the
highly tactile nature of Shiota’s work because she couldn’t climb the stairs due to her walking
impairment. In the end, she had to take the elevator.
This incident, which points to an ongoing problem at the Hammer Museum, poignantly
exemplifies the simultaneous challenges posed by inaccessible architecture and curation that
does not take varied abilities into account. In the lobby of the Hammer Museum, the curatorial
department would install a rotating mural series on the landing of a staircase. These murals,
characterized by their breathtaking intricacy, cascade from the walls onto the floors and steps.
While an elevator is available for accessibility to the upper floors, its utilization results in a
complete bypass of the mural, rendering any intimate engagement with the artwork virtually
impossible for those with mobility constraints (Figure 1). This instance stands as a clear
illustration of an art museum accessible primarily to the able-bodied, a manifestation of the
widespread issue of inaccessibility throughout different parts of the art world. And the root
problem of inaccessibility seamlessly permeates from limiting architectural structures to the very
ways in which the artworks are represented.
Figure 1: Installation view, Hammer Projects: Chiharu Shiota, Hammer Museum, Los Angeles, March 26 – August
27, 2023. Photos: Jeff Mclane.
1
Over the last two decades, the topic of disability, specifically concerning disabled
individuals, has gained increasing prominence within art museums. This is evident in the
numerous articles published in professional journals, the hosting of various seminars and
conference sessions, as well as the development of training events and manuals (Dodd and
Sandell 2010). As part of a broader effort to attract new audiences that were traditionally
excluded, and driven by government policies and new disability-rights legislation, museums
have made varying efforts, with differing levels of commitment, to improve the accessibility of
their architecture and programs for disabled individuals. However, the primary focus has been on
facilitating the visitation experiences of disabled individuals, with particular attention given to
improving physical access and, to a lesser extent, sensory access. In contrast, efforts to involve
other under-represented groups in museums, such as minority ethnic communities, have often
revolved around organizing events and exhibitions that reflect the histories, interests, and
contemporary lives of these specific audiences (Sandell 2006).
Throughout this thesis, I examine disability-themed exhibitions in order to shed light on
the pervasive influence of assumptions regarding universal ability and ableism within the
foundational structure of art museums in the United States. In the first section, I discuss why the
creation of an accessible cultural institution is not solely an educational and visitor service
concern but also a curatorial imperative. The discussion encompasses an exploration of
theoretical discourses on how curators should “crip” museological praxis, embracing access
aesthetics or creative access by centering the disabled experience of sensing, perceiving, and
knowing. The next section exposes the harsh reality that accessibility in art museums often
adheres to a checklist approach, treating access as an afterthought rather than a prioritized
consideration in the exhibition planning process. I analyze and point to the drawbacks of the
checklist methodologies, criticizing their foundation on pathologizing models that define
disability as a deficit or problem to be solved. This section also considers the undesirable
outcomes that arise when curators address accessibility through the presentation of
disability-themed artworks. Such exhibitions tend to exploit the subjects’ disabilities,
accentuating their “otherness” and transforming the displayed subject into a spectacle that
attracts a pervasive and tangible gaze — mirroring the daily challenges faced by the disabled
community (Garland-Thomson 1997).
2
After providing an overview of the current landscape, this last section analyzes three case
studies that deviate from the prevailing norm. As disability-themed exhibitions are so rarely
shown in art museums, these opportunities for accessibility and inclusion are key scenarios to
investigate. The three case studies each exemplify a departure from the conventional approach to
accessibility, wherein it is not merely an addendum but intricately woven into the core design.
The selected themes and artworks deliberately move away from simplistic, visible markers of
bodily differences related to disability. Instead, they challenge audiences to cultivate a more
profound understanding of society and human variability, without undercutting the complexity,
particularity, and multiplicity inherent in our lived experiences. Ultimately, I provide these
examples to serve as starting points and inspiration toward generating a curatorial model where
disability and artworks created by disabled artists are not simplified and misread, and artists from
this community who choose not to showcase their disability will not be marginalized. As
contemporary disability art practices continue to evolve, so must curatorial practices. Institutions
must acknowledge the diversity of the identities they include.
What is Disability?
The identification of individuals as disabled varies greatly based on their lived experiences and
physical embodiments, adding complexity to the definition of disability. Therefore, the term
“disabled” encompasses numerous legal and personal interpretations. Efforts have been made to
shift the perception of disability from a medical tragedy or personal issue to a consequence of a
societal structure inherently designed to exclude individuals with impairments from equal
participation and citizenship (Oliver 1996). In the context of this thesis, I present a specific
definition of disability, which is extracted from Mike Oliver’s 1996 work on the social model.
According to Oliver, society is the primary factor that renders physically impaired individuals
disabled. Disability, in his perspective, is not inherent to a person's impairments but is instead
imposed by the unnecessary isolation and exclusion of disabled individuals from full
participation in societal activities. Oliver challenges the prevalent individual, medicalized model
of disability, which has long dominated disability policies and services. In contrast to the medical
view that sees disabled people as “having something wrong with them” and hence the root cause
of the problem, the social model posits that one's abilities are not restricted by bodily functions
but rather by societal factors (Oliver 1996). This shift in focus redirects attention from the
3
functional constraints of disabled individuals to the impact of disabling environments, barriers,
and cultures on them.
In the United States, the widely accepted convention of employing people-first language,
such as “people with disabilities,” persists as a form of disability etiquette (Haegele and Hodge
2016). However, this thesis adopts the terminology “disabled people,” aligning with the social
model of disability. The disabled individuals are those who are disabled by the society, products
of society’s inability, unwillingness, or neglect to remove constructed barriers. The disability
effect does not reside within the individual person. It is important to acknowledge that certain
individuals within the disabled community have reclaimed the term “crip,” originally a
derogatory expression synonymous with “cripple.” I also use this term in some cited sources or
within the context of the case study. Finally, it is noteworthy that some individuals reject the term
“disability” altogether, opting for personalized identification while others refuse to use labels
entirely.
Why the U.S. context?
In selecting the United States as the focal context for this thesis, my decision is rooted in the
nation's rich history and evolving relationship with disabled individuals, particularly within the
context of its museums, and importantly, all identified case studies for examination are
exhibitions displayed within the United States. This nation has played a crucial role in shaping
the narrative of disability representation, from the exploitation of disabled individuals in
nineteenth-century freak shows to the pivotal shift towards inclusivity in the late twentieth
century. The United States has witnessed landmark legislative acts such as the Americans with
Disabilities Act of 1990, which mandates accessibility in public spaces and prohibits
discrimination against individuals with disabilities, and the Principles of Universal Design in
1997, a set of guidelines aimed at creating environments and products that are inherently
accessible to all people, regardless of their age, size, ability, or disability. These initiatives have
significantly influenced the trajectory of accessibility and inclusion in various public spaces,
including museums. By focusing on the U.S., this thesis aims to unravel both the strides made
and the persisting challenges faced by art museums in fostering a truly anti-ableist environment.
U.S. museums have a lengthy and uneven history in their interactions with disabled
individuals. In the nineteenth century, freak shows quickly gained popularity due to P.T. Barnum,
4
the American showman who made the American circus a renowned and gigantic spectacle,
showcasing disabled individuals as medical curiosities (Sandell et al. 2005). The 1960s and
1970s marked a pivotal period influenced by disability rights activism, pushing for the
implementation of Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 –– a key piece of legislation
prohibiting discrimination against disabled individuals in federally assisted programs. This era
witnessed a transformation, shifting from the derogatory display of disabled individuals to
accommodating them as museum visitors. Although “special” programs were introduced, they
were often segregated, limited in both quantity and the scope of their content, and inconsistently
provided. The passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 and the formulation of the
Principles of Universal Design in 1997 ushered in a significant shift towards greater inclusivity
and accessibility during the 1990s and early 2000s. Especially the Americans with Disabilities
Act of 1990 became essential civil rights legislation safeguarding disabled people from
discrimination in public spaces, programs, and public life, such as employment, education, and
transportation (Justice 2022). This period saw the emergence of accessibility departments in U.S.
museums, typically confined within education departments. There was also a robust emphasis on
enhancing accessibility and incorporating universal and inclusive design principles into museum
facilities, exhibitions, and programs. However, access in this formulation remains as an
afterthought, often adapting the “typical” museum to accommodate disabled audience’s needs.
Patty Berne, the Co-Founder, Executive and Artistic Director of the disability justice
performance project Sins Invalid argues:
Rights-based strategies often address the symptoms of inequity but not the root.
The root of disability oppression is ableism [the belief the nondisabled people are
superior to disabled people] and we must work to understand it, combat it, and
create alternative practices rooted in justice (Berne 2019, 5).
Unless institutions and curators take further steps to implement systematic reforms in the art they
showcase and prioritize accessibility, their efforts can easily be perceived as tokenizing gestures.
This includes avoid adopting an additive or ameliorative approach, wherein disabled themes or
works by disabled artists are crammed into an exhibition merely to enhance the representations
of the museum’s so-called commitment to diversity. Similarly, the addition of structural access,
5
whether through an elevator, a ramp, new signage, or large print versions of labels, should not be
done in isolation but rather as part of a comprehensive effort to address the deeply entrenched
issues of ableism. The case studies examined in this thesis therefore offer something beyond the
basic guidelines of the ADA, arguing for the transformation of the museum experience from
mere legalistic access to a state of true anti-ableism.
6
Chapter One: Curatorial Approaches to Access
The Responsibility of Curator
This thesis delves into how curators could create an accessible exhibition that addresses a broad
spectrum of audiences, especially the disabled ones. One might question the need for curators to
take the responsibility for ensuring accessibility in art museums. Shouldn’t accessibility issues be
the domain of individuals working in the public programs and education departments of
museums? Kaija Kaitavouri, in her introduction to the book It’s all Mediating: Outlining and
Incorporating the Roles of Curating and Education in the Exhibition Context (2013), explains
that there has been a division of roles between the curator and the educator. Traditionally, the
curator was considered as a guardian of objects while the educator took up the task of welcoming
and engaging with audiences. Curators, furthermore, are trained to focus on aesthetic aspects of
installations, prioritizing this over spectatorship, and on scholarly research rather than public
education (Kaitavouri 2013).
Issues of access have therefore resided within education departments due to their
visitor-centered orientation. This separation of duties changed when the “educational turn” of
museums started to bridge the distance between curators and educators. Irit Rogoff writes in her
article “Turning” (2008) that what the educational turn implies is that curators are no longer the
sole keepers of knowledge and that the power of meaning-making is now shared with audiences.
When audiences interact with objects, they have the capacity to participate in knowledge
production through utilizing their individual intelligence to interpret, thus produce cultural
capital (Rogoff 2008). As audiences attend to the production and articulation of knowledge,
curators are now expected to work with both “objects” and “people.” This transformation reflects
a significant shift in curation, now incorporating a dimension of public education. What curators
now emphasize goes beyond showcasing expertise, ownership, conservation or historical
context. Instead, they foster a conversation mode where the museum serves as an open site for
individuals to formulate their own questions and exchange different ideas.
Hence, the role of thinking about audiences is not covered solely by visitor services or
education departments of museums; it finds a new home within curatorial practices as well. This
is because concerns about accessibility are not treated as a mere practical conundrum, within the
education turn, but are also viewed as cognitive and intellectual issues that curators aim to
7
address, ensuring audiences are able to get access to and engage with the knowledge
encapsulated by works of art (Mörsch 2011). Access is an essential matter that has become more
central to curatorial thinking in public engagement. As Rogoff argues: “I understand this access
as the ability to formulate one’s own questions, as opposed to simply answering those that are
posed to you in the name of an open and participatory democratic process” (Rogoff 2008, 4). As
a result, it also becomes the responsibility of curators to ensure that all audiences, including the
disabled ones, have the opportunity to engage in the process of producing knowledge. The
frequently cited etymological origin of the verb “to curate,” rooted in Latin “curare” (meaning to
attend to, take care of, or look after), can thus be considered in a different light (Krasny and
Perry 2023). Curatorial care extends beyond safe keeping and the maintenance of museum
collections; it involves an exploration of the extent to which curating can serve as a critical
praxis, addressing both objects and people.
Unfortunately, as indicated by Amanda Cachia, who conducted interviews with curators
from Hammer Museum, Walker Art Center (Minneapolis), and, in New York, the Guggenheim
Museum, Whitney Museum, and Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), the irony in most cases is
that curators explore topics of disability and access “by accident, or it is mere happenstance”
(Cachia 2014, 63). Curators continue to lack strong incentives to proactively incorporate
disability and social engagement into their practice. Their involvement in such matters typically
arises in response to specific artist projects or requests rather than being a deliberate focus.
Access Aesthetics, Crip Curation and Creative Access
Given that accessibility can fall under the purview of curators, what actions should they take?
Many scholars have suggested that curators could adopt access aesthetics and implement a
transformative approach to curation, integrating creative access practices. Access aesthetics is
thoroughly explored by Mary Bunch, Julia Chan, Sean Lee in PUBLIC 66 (2022); access
aesthetics describes a set of political arguments shaping curatorial work and thrives as part of the
crip arts movement. Instead of treating access as a liberal practice that involves disabled people
in normative systems with a few enhanced facilities, access aesthetics reshapes our
understanding of crip experiences by prioritizing crip ways of perceiving, sensing, and knowing.
At the core of access aesthetics is a nuanced understanding of disability, moving away from
pathologizing views of how the disabled body is related to deficiency or abnormality (Bunch,
8
Chan and Lee 2022). Rather, disability is seen as a variable, generative, creative facet of human
existence, and disabled experience is a dynamic, embodied, and interdependent one. Access
aesthetics is a component of disability aesthetics, a theoretical framework introduced by Tobin
Siebers aimed at challenging the normative assumptions that underlie aesthetic judgements.
According to Siebers, disability aesthetics extends beyond the mere representation of disability
in art, as impairments are frequently depicted in modern art as a symbol of vulnerability and
imperfection (Siebers 2010). Disability aesthetics, instead, is a provocation against these
common portrayals by highlighting the experiences and perspectives of disabled individuals that
regard disability as a dimension of human diversity with inherent significance. Siebers writes:
Disability aesthetics does not embrace genius, bodily integrity, and health as
standards of beauty. Nor does it support the aversion to disability required by
traditional conceptions of human perfection. Rather, it broadens the inclusion of
disability found throughout modern art by affirming that disability may operate
both as a critical framework for questioning aesthetic presuppositions in the
history of art and as a value in its own right important to future conceptions of
what art is (Siebers 2010, 546).
Siebers’ concept of disability is a call to respect variable ways of knowing and being in
the world and has been widely embraced in disability arts to acknowledge the reductive
associations of the disabled body within culture. Nowadays, disability art is reshaping the art
world in broader ways that transcend Siebers’ view of disability aesthetics. Curator Amanda
Cachia, for instance, emphasizes that crip aesthetics is not just related to the content of an art
piece or the personal experiences of artists representing disability. Instead, she treats it as a
foundation of “cripping” or “dis-abling” the norms of exhibition practices and gallery space
(Cachia 2018). Curatorial cripistemology refers to her practices of disturbing and unsettling the
museological praxis: cripping, in her argument, involves breaking down embedded knowledges
that otherwise tend to sediment into uninterrogated ableist and diversity discourses. Her goal is
to push against the conventional curation by employing a “creative access” approach (Cachia
2018). She argues that the issues of access in museums at present are still viewed as a physical
requirement, often compelled by legal obligations; in these cases, access is approached in a
9
logical and noncreative fashion. Therefore, for the curatorial projects that Cachia has led, she has
avoided solely focusing on delivering conventional, practical, physical access: “I challenge the
museum to think about how access can move beyond a mere practical conundrum, often added as
an afterthought once an exhibition has been installed, to use as a critical and creative tool in
art-making and curating” (Cachia 2013, 259). She does not engage access as a set of measures
but as praxis – an enactment of alternative ways of knowing that foster the development of a
more dynamic, concentrated, and socially transformative art space.
The most important factor behind the implementation of creative access is the
collaborative process that involves both artists and the curator, in this case, Cachia. Through
negotiations with artists, she is able to present artworks that shift away from the ocularcentric
and stimulate a blend of embodied, cognitive, and sensory encounters. For instance, in Canadian
artist Raphaëlle de Groot’s video installation Study 5: A New Place (2015), Cachia asked de
Groot to incorporate the original materials used to create the makeshift head-mask featured in the
video (Figure 2). These materials were placed in a disorganized bundle on a pedestal in front of
the video projection such that the work extended beyond the flat, two-dimensional wall
representation, allowing audiences not only to see but also to touch the physical remnants of the
artist’s experiment with her face and head. Audiences were encouraged to explore the varied
textures of de Groot’s materials, bridging the gap between what they saw and touched. This type
of creative access intervention enhances tactile engagement and promote the expansion of the
sensorium in museums.
Figure 2: Raphaëlle de Groot, installation shots of Study 5: A New Place (2015), San Diego Art Institute, 2016,
curated by Amanda Cachia. Photos: Emily Corkery.
10
A similar strategy was applied to Darrin Martin’s video Objects Unknown: Sounds
Familiar (2016), where abstract forms were projected onto a wall. Cachia requested that the
artist produce a three-dimensional version of these shapes, which were then created using 3D
printing technology, making them accessible to touch (Figure 3). These printed objects, mounted
on pedestals serving as speakers, vibrated in sync with the sounds from their projected
counterparts. “In the execution of this work, I have found both artists to be responsive and
receptive to my ideas, as much as I have been inspired by theirs,” said Cachia (Cachia 2018,
107). For her, creative access involves a curator-artist dialogical exchange, where each party
consider it a necessity to discuss what “creative access” mean in a particular time and place for
the benefit of a particular exhibition and a complex embodied audience.
Figure 3: Darrin Martin's, installation shots of Objects unknown: Sounds familiar (2016), San Diego Art Institute,
2016, curated by Amanda Cachia. Photos by Emily Corkery.
This shift towards engaging with a variety of senses echoes the origins of aesthetics, rooted
in the Greek term “aisthētikós,” which pertains to the realm of sensory perception. In conclusion,
creative access or access aesthetics is not about gaining access to art, but the embodiment of
access as a core element within artworks, experiences, and spaces. It contributes to carving a
space for a serious consideration of disabled people who, Cachia argues, should not be seen as a
problem to be solved. The cripping of everyday life by disabled people is a worldmaking practice
that museums could adopt to create a deeper and fuller experience of an artwork, connecting with
a complex embodied audience (Chandler et al. 2021). In spite of the difficulties associated with
11
the term “disability” and its unfavorable connotations, especially when linked to the concept of
“problem,” disability enables us to imagine a wide spectrum of human diversity – in terms of
bodily, spatial, and social configurations (Sandahl 2002).
The Risk of Creative Access:
During a conversion with Megan A. Johnson, the co-founder and artistic director of “Cripping
The Stage” – a disability arts cabaret in Canada, Alex Bulmer expressed concerns regarding how
artistic approaches to access have the tendency to become overly innovative to the extent where
they lose their original purpose of supporting the flourishing the disabled people (Johnson 2022).
Bulmer points out how the “creative access” advocated by the curator Amanda Cachia needs to
come after the thorough comprehension of the functionality of access. She stressed: “if you get
too artistically clever with access it’s not access anymore. It’s just an attempt to be artistically
clever.... And it is a fine line, for sure. I think you really have to understand how access functions
in order to … play around with it creatively, and really understand where to draw that line. And
it’s been blurred too often” (Bulmer and Johnson 2022, 26). Before eagerly taking on creative
access, art museums should lay down the foundation of standard measures. She continues to
offer a caution to the downside of these experimental practices by indicating that there is a
chance that such approach to access can get so artistically engaging that it instead leads to a
privileged experience which non-disabled people benefit from and celebrate. Although it evokes
a sign of fun, creativity and joy, some forms of access aesthetics can also serve to reinforce
exclusion by weakening the agency of disabled people. Thus, it is important for institutions to
invite disabled people to participate in these creative discussions, as Bulmer rightly noted, “it
otherwise gets carried away. And creative access really does become for the non-disabled
audiences to consume” (Bulmer and Johnson 2022, 27). Without determining what the aesthetics
of access is achieving and who exactly it is serving, creative approaches to access will make the
disabled body even more vulnerable. Furthermore, for Sean Lee, the Director of Programing of
Tangled Art + Disability, Canada’s first disability art gallery, reminded the public that creative
deployment of access should not substitute traditional accommodations completely, and how
these two approaches go hand in hand in offering nonnormative bodyminds diverse modes of
engagement with artworks. As explained by Lee: “creative access really complicates
conventional access. But it’s not an excuse for curators to only engage creative access. It doesn’t
12
mean don’t budget for ASL, don’t find an accessible venue ... this is a community activation, and
it’s a political activation” (Lee and Johnson 2022, 26). The case studies in this thesis will
highlight the strategies employed by curators in experimenting with creative access, while
simultaneously maintaining a commitment to conventional access work.
13
Chapter Two: The Hidden Ableism
Unlearning Ableism
Ableism is a complex term that has rapidly increased in usage over the past decade. It is a term
labelling the ideologies that privilege the idealized body, regarded as the perfect norm of the
species. Ableism neglects the full range of bodily variations in favor of prioritizing typicality,
predictability and standardization (Ware, Zankowicz and Sims 2022); it is often associated with
negative connotations, portraying the disabled body as lesser, imperfect, or even sub-human.
Given how entrenched ableism is, it is challenging to imagine a cultural institution like an
art museum openly admitting that they embrace ableist standards, as it, to some extent,
dehumanizes those who cannot adhere to them. However, what the public may not realize is that
ableism is pervasive, and institutions often give little consideration to how their physical spaces
cater to the able-bodied experience. Current art museums have ableism baked into their very
foundations. They generalize bodily difference by creating a singular body as a stand-in for all
audiences. The institution’s explicit regulations, as well as the unspoken spatial and visual codes
work together to assume visitors have mastered or can master a repertoire of appropriate “bodily
techniques” (Mauss 1973). These techniques include remaining upright for prolonged periods
while maneuvering through gallery areas; assuming an average height for optimal viewing of
wall-mounted art; having standard vision and hearing capabilities for engaging with the art and
its associated activities; and adeptly handling bathroom routines without disruption. People
become so accustomed to these defined ways of navigating the galleries that they often overlook
the fact that these spaces are constructed for the comfort of the able body, consequently causing
considerable discomfort for the disabled body (Justice 2022). One distinct example illustrating
the high concentration of ableism within the museum is the absence of benches. While walking
through museum spaces, the scarcity of benches or seating options can lead to pain, discomfort,
feelings of inadequacy, and embarrassment. There are several reasons for limiting benches in a
museum setting, such as adhering to social distancing guidelines, prioritizing gallery aesthetics,
or discouraging lingering conversations (Yamamoto and Galuban 2022). However, insufficient
seating implies an assumption that there is only one physical approach to viewing and engaging
with art: standing. The design and architecture of museums specify the movement and pacing of
the visitor through the proximity of artworks, which in turn poses numerous constraints for
14
disabled individuals entering the space, who might need more room to navigate. Sometimes
artworks that incorporate audio or interactive elements, demanding non-visual participation, can
even contribute to what the artist Panteha Abareshi terms as “inaccessible immersion” for the
disabled body (Abareshi 2020). In short, the highly structured choreography demanded of a
typical museum visit excludes the experiences of disabled audience members.
Contextualizing ableism within the art museum involves examining its existence at every
level, from the physical to the non-physical. Although certain American art museums are
gradually becoming aware of their legal and ethical responsibilities to provide access for
disabled audiences, very few acknowledge, let alone address or react to, the lack of disabled
artists and artworks that deal with the topic of disability in their collections and exhibitions
(Sandell et al. 2005). Janice Majewski, who serves as the Smithsonian’s accessibility
coordinator, and Lonnie Bunch, the Associate Director of Curatorial Affairs at the institution,
delineated three vital dimensions of accessibility for disabled people within the context of
museums (Majewski and Bunch 1998). Their insights, including those relating to access to
representation, can be found in the publication titled “The Expanding Definition of Diversity:
Accessibility and Disability Culture Issues in Museums Exhibitions” (1998). During that period,
physical access to museums, including features such as ramps, automatic doors, and accessible
display cases, had become increasingly common in the United States. Majewski and Bunch
emphasized the significance of representing disabled individuals, along with their arts, culture,
and historical contributions, which had now become more accessible to them due to these
physical improvements (Majewski and Bunch 1998). They argue that, while many museums had
acknowledged the need to address the underrepresentation and misrepresentation of women and
racialized communities in their exhibitions, disabled individuals were seldom featured in
museum displays. And the reason behind this absence of disabled perspectives is the lack of
curators trained in history of disability art and curators’ fear of confusing the public.
The Research Center of Museum and Galleries (RCMG) has been at the forefront in the
past decade of exploring how disability is depicted in museums. An important contribution from
Richard Sandell, Jocelyn Dodd, Annie Delin, and Jackie Gay on behalf of RCMG is the 2004
report titled “Buried in the Footnotes: The Representation of Disabled People in Museum and
Gallery Collections.” This report highlighted that numerous curators expressed discomfort in
showcasing items representing disability due to concerns about potentially offending their
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audiences. While some curators had begun to navigate the presentation of disability in a
somewhat awkward manner, researchers observed that many others were apprehensive about
making mistakes and, as a result, chose to avoid displaying bodies with visible disabilities
altogether, with their primary focus being on improving physical access to museum facilities
only (Dodd et al. 2004). In the end, RCMG also generated a list of reflective questions for
museum curators to ponder, such as: “Is the display based on the medical or social model of
disability?”; “Does the display include stereotypes of disabled people?”; “Is the display
personalized or depersonalized?” (Dodd et al. 2004, 20-21). Many of the questions are better
suited for curating exhibitions in natural history museums, but these inquiries should also be
important entry points for curators in the field of visual art.
Accessibility as an Afterthought
When ableism is addressed in the infrastructures of art museums by implementing accessible
measures, these measures are often considered a supplement to the exhibitions. The question of
accessibility in art museums has continually been approached with the idea that access is
something to be addressed as an afterthought. Instead of incorporating the needs of disabled
audience into their foundations, art museums often think of access as merely a series of logistical
items that need to be checked off from a list of discrete tasks. The “checklist” approach can be
considered as a functional level of access which is grounded on the established legal guidelines.
It typically includes mobility access, such as ensuring ease of access to the museum building,
installing ramps or automatic doors and catering to the basic comforts of patrons in wheelchairs
through accessible washroom facilities. It may also expand into practices such as interpretation,
captioning, audio narration, and plain-language summaries (Rieger and Strickfaden 2018). The
main critique of the checklist approach revolves around its “simplicity,” with critics arguing that
it fails to acknowledge the intricate and ever-changing nature of access. “In reality,” Megan A.
Johnson writes in her essay “Balancing Form and Function: The Politics of Access Aesthetics”
(2022), “bodyminds and access needs are [in] constant flux, and oscillate between moments of
accord and conflict. The ‘fixed’ commitment to access conveyed by the checklist approach
removes the possibility of being in relationship to an individual’s or a community’s shifting
access needs” (Johnson 2022, 25). Access is not an isolated event, and it involves continuous
interactions and taking accountability for the inevitable influence we have on each other. It is
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about lived experience and relationship building. Therefore, accessible designs should resist
formulaic conceptions, should be considered from the very beginning, and be tailored in relation
to each exhibition.
The problem of access cannot be easily fixed through this one-size-fits-all approach, in
other words, assimilating the disabled people into “normative” able-bodied relations and built
environment. This one-size-fits-all approach is also built upon pathologizing models defining
bodies with impairments as problems that require immediate actions in order to restore them to
normalcy (Richardson and Kletchka 2022, 140). Such positioning of disability as a problem to be
solved is, in itself, a problematic act. Writer Eli Clare describes how addressing disability
through cure, pity, charity, etc., privileges bodies that are whole, reproductive,
cis-heteronormative, compliant, capable workers (Clare 2017). This echoes another challenge
that the checklist approach faces — it is unable to tackle the questions of openness, inclusion, or
opportunity, which are key components of access. Such reconfigurations of the infrastructure can
give an illusion of accessibility, which many art museums use as a part of institutional languages
of reform (Fazeli 2019). Sara Ahmed connects accessibility to the problem of diversity with
similar critiques: highlighting that the “tick box approach” is how “institutions can ‘show’ that
they are following procedures but are not really ‘behind’ them (showing can be a way of not
committing)” (Ahmed 2012, 114). The material changes that this approach embraces can be
promising yet performative rather than substantial. Institutions often opt for this kind of shortcut,
even though it is hollow, because it offers a quick, simple and apparent solutions in contrast to
the extensive effort required to transform the deep-seated structural ableism (Edelstein 2022).
Modifying an environment that lacks accessible facilities is crucial, and, to extend the
arguments above, I do not disavow the necessity of this approach or imply that external barriers
should not be altered to be more accessible to disabled members of the community. The concerns
with the checklist approach to access is whether these physical changes or easily implementable
tactics are the groundworks for instigating more and better options for access or whether it is
institutions’ attempts to avoid in-depth discussions around the systematic oppression of disabled
people.
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Disability as a Spectacle
Disabled perspectives should not only be incorporated into the facilities of art museums; they
should also be woven into the content of the exhibitions. Bringing in disabled perspectives can
be complicated, because it is quite easy for curators to organize an exhibition under the guise of
disability art, when in reality, the exhibition may have a tendency to be read as a spectacle
eliciting voyeuristic attention. Always ready on display, Garland-Thompson explains in her book
Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature (1997)
that the disabled body in culture shares historical connections with the concept of the freak,
grotesque, and monster in their roles as spectacles. Disabled characters in visual culture often
serve as representations of other themes, typically with tragic or negative undertones, such as
societal decline or psychological distress, and they manifest these symbolic associations through
their physical presence.
Furthermore, any exhibition that presents physically disabled bodies might recall the
legacy of the freak show, as previously mentioned, which significantly contributed to the
construction of disability as a spectacle. In 1835, for example, entrepreneur P.T. Barnum
acquired Joice Heth, an elderly and disabled African-American woman, presenting her as his
initial sideshow act. Heth, blind and physically paralyzed, was showcased under the false claim
of being 161 years old and the former nurse to President George Washington. Barnum, later a
prominent sideshow promoter, featured live and museum exhibits of “human oddities,” often
comprised of individuals, including those with disabilities and different races, who had been sold
into slavery. While live performances occurred in carnivals, his American Museum, a renowned
dime museum, attracted New York City residents and visitors from 1841 to 1865 (Reiss 1999).
The public were drawn to the display of visible physical differences.
But the freakshow is not that far away from our era, with institutions tied to showcasing
physical disability or bodily difference, attaching disabled label to individuals, and blurring the
lines between education and entertainment. The freak show, once a leading genre of American
entertainment, declined in significance at the start of the twentieth century, has experienced a
revival in different forms. Some exhibitions would display the visible and functional
irregularities of the body in an attempt to offer a perspective from the disabled community. This
perspective, however, aligns with the medical model of disability, which doesn't truly lead us
toward "inclusion," "diversity," or "accessibility.” Instead, it merely adds a new layer to an old
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narrative, casting the bodies on display as "other," thus increasing the divide between disabled
and non-disabled audiences. In her chapter entitled “Reassigning Meaning,” Simi Linton, an
American arts consultant and disability rights activist, explains that the medical model of
disability demonstrated in exhibitions is often criticized because it emphasizes bodily
impairment or limitations, and frames disability as an individual burden and a personal issue
(Linton 2010). Such curatorial practices can deepen the separation between the “norm” and the
“abnormal” and may inadvertently encourage a scrutinizing, social gaze. Linton argues what
curators failed to do is draw the audience closer to the values of disability culture by illustrating
how disability is a socially constructed identity influenced by external factors that often lead to
the exclusion of disabled people.
The social model of disability stands in stark contrast to the medical model within the
realm of disability discourse. While the medical model focus on the body, the pathological
condition, and the physical differences, the social model concentrates on the lived experiences of
disabled people and on the environmental barriers that favor the standardization of all bodies
(Haegele and Hodge 2016). Certainly, no one would openly acknowledge that their institution is
promoting the medical model of this marginalized group, as it unmistakably portrays disability in
a negative light by associating these individuals with a deficit model orientation. However, an
unintended effect can easily arise if curators acknowledge the medical curiosity certain works
might evoke and still indulge it without providing a clear explanation.
To this end, here I introduce an example of how an exhibition addresses disability and art
in less productive ways, almost turning it into a modern freak show. The title of the exhibition is
called Saving Faces (2002) and it presented works by the artist Mark Gilbert at the National
Portrait Gallery in London (Figure 4 & 5). Between 1998 and 2000, Gilbert created almost 100
paintings portraying individuals with facial disfigurements, capturing their experiences before,
during, and after facial surgery. The exhibition showcased a curated selection of these pieces.
The paintings were presented with concise labels indicating the patient’s first name and the initial
of their last name along with the work’s date. Additionally, folders containing patient case
histories were accessible for audiences to browse through. It is an elaborate medical case history
of each subject depicted in the paintings, outlining details about their treatments, medical
conditions, with minimal biographical information. The exhibition was sponsored by the Royal
London Hospital, as an educational endeavor to help raise public awareness of facial
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disfigurement. However, and sadly, the presentation was aligned with the medical model of
disability. The impersonal and technical language used in the case histories place each disabled
person into a medical narrative. Due to the presentational strategy of separating the patient’s
body from the patient themselves (mind, soul, etc.), audiences would easily adopt what Michel
Foucault called the “medical gaze” (Foucault 1963).
Figure 4 & 5: Installation views, Saving Faces, National Portrait Gallery London, 27 February – 21 April 2002.
Courtesy of National Portrait Gallery London.
The Saving Faces exhibition was groundbreaking in its showcase of images relating to
facial disfigurement within a museum setting. Nonetheless, it is crucial to scrutinize the politics
of the project in connection to broader discussions on facial disfigurement and disability in
society. According to Dan Goodley, the integration of case studies in such a way in the exhibition
replicated the power dynamics between medical professionals and patients found in a hospital
environment (Goodley 2001). The pathological dimension of disfigurement was emphasized,
overshadowing the social aspect. These portraits have, to some extent, illustrated the
transformative impact of plastic surgery on individual appearances, rather than addressing
societal attitudes towards facial disfigurement. The idea that facial surgery has the potential to
change a person’s life is viewed as problematic within the disabled community, as it emphasizes
a medical model, which considers the disabled people as needing to be fixed. This further
underscore how health professionals’ assumptions and choices are often rooted in notions of a
standard or normative body (Barnes and Mercer 2001). The inappropriateness lies not in the
exhibition’s presentation of these paintings alongside corresponding case studies, but rather in
the exclusive focus on this aspect as the sole content on display. It was almost glorifying surgery
by sending a message to audience: people with facial disfigurement are perceived to need
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medical improvements to integrate and be accepted into society. The notion was that changing
their appearance, i.e., to “look more normal” through surgical intervention, will enhance their
lives. The exhibition was only presenting a single perspective on disability issues, neglecting
other voices, such as those that believe that it is not their faces that need to be changed, but social
attitudes. In the end, even though the works were exhibited in an art museum, they were still
defining disabled people through a scientific and medical lens; the exhibition did not convey or
address greater tolerance of facial disfigurement in society. Instead of portraying disabled people
as ordinary active individuals, this presentation reinforces common tropes about disabled people
as medical curiosity and dependent invalids.
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Chapter Three: Three Case Studies
Although many art museums consistently uplift ableism, curators seldom embrace the full range
of human differences and move beyond disability tokenism. The case studies below address
concerns about access by diversifying perceptual and intellectual access to artwork, rather than
merely adjusting the physical environment or merely adhering to ADA standards. The
exhibitions in these case studies articulate a richer and more complex language in relation to
experiences of disability. They also serve as perfect examples of how the concepts of access and
disability can be broadened and extended to exhibition forms, not limited only to the visitor or
education department. All the exhibitions are analyzed using secondary resources gathered from
published print and online materials. Unfortunately, I did not have the chance to experience them
in person because they were all held before I started working on this topic. I have seldom
encountered substantial or in-depth exploration of disability and access in curated exhibitions at
major or mid-sized museums and art galleries nowadays. All three exhibitions were showcased
in small institutions, including two in liberal arts colleges. This also underscores the importance
of this research because, in comparison with other underrepresented groups, there is still a
skewed and partial character in representations of the disabled body in many big institutions.
RE/FORMATIONS
The exhibition RE/FORMATIONS (2009) explores the convergence of disability and female
identity as conveyed through the medium of sculpture, co-curated by Jessica Cooley, the
assistant curator for the Van Every/Smith Galleries at Davidson College in North Carolina and
Ann Fox, a Davidson College faculty member and disability studies scholar. Together they
selected five artists to be included in RE/FORMATIONS: Nancy Fried, Harriet Sanderson,
Rebecca Horn, Judith Scott, and Laura Splan, all of whom created art representing different
expressions of disability identity. The exhibition took place very early in 2009, at a time when
there was a scarcity of art exhibitions centered on disability identity and an absence of categories
like “disabled artist” or “disability art” in most journals and books (Cooley and Fox 2014).
Therefore, the curatorial approach for RE/FORMATIONS was innovative and exemplary.
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Access was not an afterthought for this exhibition. It was woven into every stage of its
development. Since it was a sculpture exhibition, curators had to reevaluate the floor layout and
the height of the pedestals. They reduced the pedestal height to a maximum of thirty-six inches
and spaced them apart to make it easy for people to move between them. To assist visually
impaired visitors using canes, they added wooden strips around each pedestal for orientation
(Figure 6). The printed materials that they distributed were all in large font, and some included
Braille inserts, which were provided by the National Braille Press. For the opening night panel
discussion, they hired a sign language interpreter, ensured that all panelists had microphones, and
arranged for a wheelchair-accessible van for anyone who required transportation from the lecture
hall to the gallery. Furthermore, they made the exhibition catalogue physically and financially
accessible. Instead of printing a traditional paper catalogue, they created a website.
Figure 6: Installation view, RE/FORMATIONS, Van Every Gallery, Davidson College, 16 January – 27 February
2009. Courtesy of Van Every Gallery.
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Surprisingly, these accessible features are not only valued by disabled individuals but
also beneficial for the entire audience. Because of the lowered height of pedestals, audiences
expressed that they were able to experience the work in a more direct and intimate way (Cooley
and Fox 2014). The sculptures were not detached, positioned above or beyond the body; rather,
they were almost part of the body. Such installation encouraged audiences to examine the pieces
more closely and for an extended duration, to observe previously overlooked details, leading to a
more profound interpretation. The exhibition also received ample positive feedback regarding the
curators’ use of larger fonts for wall text, as reading 14-point font from a distance has been
challenging for everyone (Cooley and Fox 2014). With these carefully designed accessibility
features, both disabled and nondisabled people could access the artworks in new ways.
Alongside this traditional access work, the exhibition also explored the notion of “creative
access” (Cachia 2018), wherein curators and artists work collaboratively to address accessibility
in a creative manner. For example, curators commissioned new artworks for the exhibition,
collaborating with Laura Splan and Harriet Sanderson, asking them to consider creating tactile
pieces. Harriet Sanderson’s installation was entirely tactile and reconfigurable (Figure 7).
Audiences had the opportunity to handle and to relocate the cane pieces and cane shoes within
the room. Each morning, gallery attendants restored the room to Sanderson’s original
arrangement.
Figure 7: Harriet Sanderson, Molt, With Scurs (2008), Found Mattress Pads, Chairs, Shoes, Ink, Altered Wood
Walking Canes, And Light. Courtesy of the artist.
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While Laura Splan typically worked with delicate materials that were not tactile, for
RE/FORMATIONS, she created these series of doilies replicating the viral structures of different
diseases, and audiences were allowed to touch these pieces directly (Figure 8). These
commissioned pieces activated sensory qualities and curators thus invited audiences to an
embodied experience of spectatorship. Indeed, all the accessible features deployed in this
exhibition showed a high degree of creativity. They were site-specific, tailored to the particular
time and space for this specific exhibition, and were neither monolithic nor uniform. The
curators and artists worked together to position access front and center, going above and beyond
the ADA standards and the existing protocols of museums and galleries.
Figure 8: Laura Splan, installation view of visitor interaction with Doilies (2004), Freestanding Computerized
Machine-Embroidered Lace Mounted On Velvet, 16.75 X 16.75 In. (42.5 X 42.5 Cm) Each (Framed Dimensions).
Courtesy of the artist.
The exhibition thematically addressed disability identity, yet it did not showcase
disability with its “otherness” or focused on the body’s visible differences. In other words, the
exhibition purposefully excluded the spectacle of disability and avoided relying on common
tropes associated with disability art and identity. This approach ensured that the showcased
artworks do not engender voyeuristic attention, which disabled individuals often encounter in
their daily lives. Curators Cooley and Fox even sent out mailings before the opening of the
exhibition to notify the public that this exhibition would address artworks emerging from within
the culture of disability, characterized by its activism and innovation, rather than concentrating
on therapy or charity, which conflate the disabled body with the sick role. They carefully
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selected works that celebrates the beauty of human variation. One of the pieces featured in
RE/FORMATIONS was Judith Scott’s Untitled (JS 27) (1997) sculpture (Figure 9). In this
specific fiber sculpture, two cardboard spools are securely fastened together and positioned on
top of a mound of elaborately intertwined ribbons and yarn, featuring shades of pink, blue, green,
black, and white. The spools themselves are enveloped in white yarn and intersected by a paper
towel tube. Positioned at the rear of the composition are a computer monitor shade and a circular
biscuit tin, and the entire sculpture is affixed to a cardboard box that is smaller in diameter than
the sculpture itself. This design echoes the recurrent motif of circles and squares found
throughout her body of work (Corso-Esquivel 2019).
Figure 9: Judith Scott, Untitled (JS 27) (1997), Mixed Media (Fiber And Found Objects), 31 X 30 X 30 In. (78.7 X
76.2 X 76.2 Cm). Courtesy of Creative Growth Art Center.
Scott’s work departs from the traditional autobiographical style as it does not directly
articulate the artist’s lifelong institutionalization and struggles with Down syndrome and
deafness. The minimalist feels absolutely present and non-narrative that it is hard to discern
conversations of her life within her work. The densely layered and meticulously wrapped
sculpture, along with the repetition of patterns and shapes, collectively convey a sense of
vibrancy, playfulness, and mystery. Notably, Scott eschews dark color palettes in favor of lighter
hues, infusing her artwork with an evident sense of lightness and joy. Her consistent use of a riot
of colors evokes a whimsical and celebratory ambiance. In addition, her work can be perceived
26
as rich and vital in its presentation. Her unconventional approach involves wrapping textiles
around seemingly arbitrary found objects, defying established artistic norms, particularly those
associated with classical sculpture. The permanent, enduring and hard sculptural materials such
as stone and metal are replaced with fragmented, fragile, and relatively impermanent fibers. This
unique artistic expression reflects her distinctive worldview, her nuanced perception of time and
space, and her inner imaginative life. Within this body of work, a new facet of her identity
emerges. This new identity was once constrained in an institution that pathologized her behavior,
attempting to mold her into conformity with perceived “normal” standards (Fraser 2010). While
she may have experienced various forms of restraint throughout her life, her creative engagement
with fiber sculpture acts as a medium of emancipation, allowing her to become unbound and
break free from these bounds.
There was another playful piece placed at the corner of the exhibition: Harriet
Sanderson’s installation Molt, with Scurs (2008). It is an arrangement of different pairs of
high-heeled shoes, neatly aligned against a wall, with their heels ingeniously crafted from cane
tips (Figure 10). Sanderson’s choice to employ curved cane tips for the heels of women’s dress
shoes serves to underscore the idea that such fashionable footwear, in the pursuit of beauty, can
impose mobility restrictions on even the most agile individuals. Moreover, high-heeled shoes,
renowned for their instability and impracticality for those with limited mobility, further
exemplify this point. But the installation combines canes and shoes into objects that exude a
sense of playfulness, reminding audience that canes and shoes, in their practical use, function
together to enable a different kind of mobility. The conventional heels of these shoes have been
removed from the footwear, scattered throughout the gallery alongside other liberated cane tips.
When beholding these novel cane-infused shoe creations, one apprehends an alluring and daring
quality to the graceful curves of the tallest heels, which present disability as a canvas for high
fashion. Ultimately, these shoes transcend the role of mere reinforcements of ableist metaphors
critiquing beauty standards; they transform into expressions of alternative movement and what
one might consider “disability cool.” The cane, once a medical object, a marker of illness is now
illustrating how disability is the new sexy.
27
Fig 10: Harriet Sanderson, Molt, with Scurs (2008), shoes and altered wood walking canes. Courtesy of the
artist.
Overall, the artworks featured in the exhibitions expanded manifestations of disability
identities. The exhibition did not cast biographical disability experience of these artists or
demonstrate how the physicality affected their artistic creation, nor did it emphasize their success
despite their “impairment.” Disability was considered here as a form of diversity that offers
unique perspectives which should be valued and celebrated by the public, rather than feared. This
exhibition suggests embodied experiences – of being disabled, of being a disabled woman –
occurs in many ways, ways too countless to be comprehensively depicted here. By displaying the
potential of what the body can be, RE/FORMATIONS showcased a fuller range of human
embodiment, one that is variegated and multifaceted.
The curators further rejected the medical perspective on disability and bodily
insufficiency by basing the exhibition on feminist disabilities studies, particularly drawing from
the ideas of the feminist disability studies scholar Rosemarie Garland-Thomson. Her emphasis
on disability studies and feminist theory connects disability with other social markers, such as
gender, and raises questions about how disability, akin to gender, functions as a system of
representation that has consigned women and the disabled to secondary status in society
(Garland-Thomson 1997). She examines the concept of disability in ways that mirrors the
feminist critique of patriarchal assumptions regarding gender. The exhibition therefore explored
the intersection of disability and female identity, since both identities have been marginalized in
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society, portrayed as bodies that are excessive and disorderly in contrast to the normative
standards. As Garland-Thomson put it:
Many parallels exist between the social meanings attributed to female bodies and
those assigned to disabled bodies. Both the female body and the disabled body are
cast within cultural discourse as deviant and inferior; both are excluded from full
participation in public as well as economic life; both are defined in opposition to a
valued norm which is assumed to possess natural corporeal superiority.
(Garland-Thomson 1997, 279)
Society has pitted these identities against each other: women have been pathologized as
“hysterical,” while disabled individuals have been associated with traits considered “feminized,”
especially when “feminization” is linked to passivity and silence (Garland-Thomson, 2002).
Consequently, this exhibition primarily took inspiration from the field of feminist disability
studies, which specifically explores the interconnectedness of gender and disability. Perhaps
nothing bonds female and disability identities as tightly as the fact that both are intensely
regulated by western cultural ideals of physical normalcy, ideals that transitioned from abstract
concepts to established paradigm in the late nineteenth century (Michelle and Asch 1988).
Incorporating disability art within a feminist framework enables feminist theory to apply its
examinations of gender as a category, the body’s significance in shaping identity and self, and
the intricate dynamics of social power relationships to the analysis of disability. While audiences
might possess a strong familiarity with feminist theory, they often overlook the fact that certain
topics being currently addressed in disability studies parallel the issues that feminist theory has
been grappling with for many years. This isn’t to suggest that feminist theory can be seamlessly
transposed into disability studies, but the exhibition proposed that it can provide valuable
insights that can enrich our understanding of disability. Together, the unique theoretical
frameworks, the selected artworks, and the accessible features implemented for the exhibition
challenged dominant assumptions about living with disability and offered audiences a unique
opportunity to experience the complexity of embodied identities.
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What Can a Body Do?
Curated by the disability scholar Amanda Cachia, the exhibition What Can a Body Do? (2012) at
Haverford College’s Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery offered new perspectives on a broader politics of
disabled identity and how the disabled body is filled with abundant possibilities (Figure 11). The
works presented in this exhibition spanned from figurative and abstract art to performance pieces
and recordings of experiential art. Nine contemporary artists, including Joseph Grigely, Christine
Sun Kim, Park McArthur, Alison O’Daniel, Carmen Papalia, Laura Swanson, Chun-Shan
(Sandie) Yi, Corban Walker, and Artur Zmijewski, engaged with entrenched reductive
representations of the disabled body and showed that people do not yet know what bodies are or
what bodies – all bodies – can do (Cachia 2012). The exhibition not only demonstrated personal
experiences of embodiment and perception but also explored how disabled body perform beauty,
how they interact with one another or influence the feelings of other bodies – essentially, it asked
what can a body do? It regarded disabled individuals not as objects of scrutiny, but as subjects
whose distinct viewpoints opened audience to more expansive and diverse conceptions of the
human. What Can A Body Do? took the public down an unconventional path which the limits of
disabled body were ruptured and the potential of disabled bodies were discovered, serving as a
means of illumination.
Figure 11: Installation view, What Can a Body Do?, Cantor Fitzgerald Gallery, Haverford College, 26 October – 16
December 2012. Photo: Lisa Boughter.
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Disability aesthetics permeated the exhibition, as the selected works centered crip ways
of sensing, perceiving and knowing. The artists challenged the notion of what a disabled person
cannot do, inviting audience to reflect on how the non-standard perceptual and sensory
experiences of disabled individuals can in fact elicit new ways of knowing the world. To coin a
term initially developed by Michel Foucault to describe forms of knowledge that have been
disqualified from consideration, the disabled experience has long been a subjugated knowledge
(Foucault 1994). For example, artist Joseph Grigely’s work Songs Without Words (2017) was
featured in the show. It is a series of prints that exposes his fascination with the way music
“looks” and encourages audiences to examine the often-overlooked visual aspects of musical
concerts (Figure 12).
Figure 12: Installation view of Songs Without Words (2017), Digital pigment print on Hahnemühle photo rag paper.
Courtesy of the artist.
The disparity between the visual representation of sound and its auditory qualities serves
as a central motif in Grigely’s life as a person with hearing impairment and his artistic endeavors
(Berry 2007). In Songs Without Words (2017), an original installation featuring twelve pigment
prints, three of which are part of this exhibition, Grigely employs visual means to portray sound
by capturing images of individuals engaged in singing, sourced from The New York Times.
Notably, the accompanying newspaper captions are absent in these visual representations, further
emphasizing the absence of language in the artwork. This absence invites audiences to engage
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with these musical performances solely through the expressive gestures of the participants. What
may appear to be a straightforward act of providing what the artist refers to as “music with the
sound turned off” effectively foregrounds the disregarded dimensions of musical performances
(Berry 2007). This includes the emotive facial expressions of choir members, the captivated
audience, the dexterity of hands skillfully navigating a piano, the exaggerated gestures of the
opera singer. In the piece Songs Without Words (Eartha Kitt) (2017), Eartha Kitt's body language
creates a compelling image: she raises her right arm with strength and authority, her mouth wide
open as she belts out a note into the microphone, and her fingers splayed on her right hand.
These visual cues without captions almost force audiences to think about the powerful
manifestation of music in relation to the human body and radically open up alternative
engagement with the musical world.
In Carmen Papalia’s work, he conducts public walks as part of his experiential social
practice called Blind Field Shuttle (2012). In this unique activity, participants engaged in a
non-visual walking tour of urban and rural spaces on foot. They formed a line behind Papalia,
with each person holding onto the right shoulder of the person in front and keeping their eyes
closed for the entire journey (Figure 13). Papalia assumed the role of a tour guide, sharing
information with the person behind him, who, in turn, passed it along to the next participant,
creating a chain of information sharing. Through this exercise, participants, due to the absence of
visual input, became more attuned to alternative sensory experiences like smell, sound, and
touch. The objective was to encourage an appreciation of how non-visual sensations can provide
a meaningful way to engage with and understand a place.
Figure 13: Carmen Papalia, Blind Field Shuttle: Portland, June 16 & 17 (2012). Performance. Courtesy of the artist.
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Commissioned for the exhibition, Blind Field Shuttle: Portland, June 16 & 17 (2012)
marked Papalia’s initial endeavor to create a non-visual record of his non-visual walking tours.
These recordings resulted from Papalia’s collaboration with sound artist Kai Tillman and offered
a means for Papalia to document two consecutive walks he led on June 16 and 17, 2012, through
a park on the Portland State University campus. Based on these recordings, the artist has
designed a site-specific installation within the gallery. In this setup, audiences experienced the
sounds in a narrow corridor long enough for ten people to stand single file with their arms
outstretched, holding the shoulders of the person in front of them. The corridor's illumination
mimicked the experience of closing one’s eyes in a dimly lit room, effectively blocking external
noises and enabling listeners to become fully immersed in the auditory journey, allowing them to
envision themselves as participants on the walk. All the artworks shown in this exhibition did not
aim to simulate the experience of deafness or blindness for the audience, nor did they seek to
make audiences undergo the pain or inconvenience caused by disability. Instead, they aimed to
showcase the insufficiency of the ideology of ability and emphasize the importance of
recognizing the various entry points to experience, considering each entry point as a relevant and
valuable way of being. As the curator Cachia concludes, “[t]hese artists create a mixed,
hybridized, and inventive sense – even a new language” (Cachia 2012, 7).
Cachia also made a bold yet wise curatorial decision, which is to include controversial
pieces that are criticized by the public and are related to “disability exploitation” (Stock 2017). It
is a rare example of such exploitative works being placed in disability-themed exhibition, where
this kind of work is typically segregated. For instance, she chose to incorporate Artur
Zmijewski’s An Eye for an Eye (1998), a video and series of photographs, which portray intricate
physical arrangements involving both male and female amputee and non-amputee nude bodies
coming into contact (Figure 14). Throughout his career, Zmijewski’s art has been a source of
debate due to the way he sensationalizes and, in turn, arguably exploits different disabled
communities, including a deaf boys' choir and a group of blind artists. The level of agency or
control that his subjects have over how Zmijewski represents them remains ambiguous, raising
questions about potential exploitation.
33
Figure 14: Artur Zmijewski, An Eye for an Eye (1998), Photo on dibond board 39.3 × 39.3". Courtesy of the artist.
In the end, Cachia still showcased the work. It turned out to be a successful choice
because exhibiting artworks that were simultaneously exploitive and exploratory within the same
space could facilitate difficult discussions and critical examinations of the historical exploitation
of disabled bodies for entertainment by non-disabled individuals. By including a debatable work,
Cachia aimed to prompt audiences to explore the boundaries and criteria that define what is
considered exploitative and invited them to question who holds the authority in these matters
(Cachia 2013).
As Colin Barnes argues, curators need to distinguish whether a disability-themed work is
problematic or progressive, given the history of displaying disabled people for entertainment
(Barnes 1992). But this doesn’t necessarily imply that the curator should avoid controversial
content just because it carries a negative connotation. As Claire Bishop argues in her article
“Antagonism and Relational Aesthetics”: “A democratic society is one in which relations of
conflict are sustained, not erased. Without antagonism there is only the imposed consensus of
authoritarian order—a total suppression of debate and discussion, which is inimical (the
opposite) to democracy” (Bishop 2004, 66). For Bishop, it is the disturbing, uncomfortable,
contradictory, absurd, and sometimes perverse aspects of the work that lead to new ways of
34
thinking about the world. Therefore, the issue around disability can never be fully resolved
unless people uncover the ambiguities and the gaps.
Curating an exhibition that centers on disabled artists’ works can be tricky, because
sometimes disabled artists do not want their works to be closely connected with the theme or
label that has historically restricted their artistic practices. They are also aware of the risk of
reinforcing the relations among curiosity, disability, and display if the curator lacks substantial
knowledge of disabled art or, in general, the territory of disability, and identifies all of their
practices within this specific category. This is not the case for the exhibition What Can A Boy
Do? Amanda Cachia is an art historian who specializes in disability art and she identifies herself
as a disabled person. Due to her identity and expertise, she built close relationships with artists in
ways that cannot be achieved otherwise. She often vocalized her own intimate experiences with
disability in order to obtain the trust of the artists. During an interview with one of the
participating artists, Christine Sun Kim expressed her trust in Cachia’s ability to curate a
disability exhibition:
That idea of disability I was a little resistant to. I look at my work not as a
disabled artist but just as an artist. The word disability carries a lot of stigma with
it. But after I spoke with Amanda […] I liked how she wanted to go and push
herself into a space […] kind of reframing people disabilities or disabled artists. I
didn’t want to be pigeon-holed but I felt willing after speaking with her, to go
with her with this vision and to see where this went (Cachia 2013, 271).
Given that every step, in terms of how the work was contextualized and displayed was
thoroughly discussed with both parties, the power relations between artists and the curator were
eased off with a collaborative format. The curator and the artists were inhabiting in a space of
trust and disability knowledge. Hence, this exhibition maintained control of the delivered
message to ensure that it was not silenced or misinterpreted, but rather broadcasted loud and
clear.
Lastly, the only drawback of this exhibition in relation to accessibility is that, even
though it encouraged audiences to cognitively envision a vast range of human variety, the
physical access did not fully consider audiences of all abilities. While the gallery staff made
35
significant efforts to uphold high standards of accessibility, the majority of the artwork could not
be touched. The exhibition primarily provided a visual experience, and only a few of the works
featured sound. As a result, this format posed limitations for audience with hearing and visual
impairments. A gallery intern once shared an incident involving a mother who brought her blind
son to the exhibition (Cachia 2013, 266). While she acknowledged the importance of the show in
fostering inclusivity around differences, she expressed concerns about its exclusions for certain
audience types. In this scenario, the curator found herself entangled in the dilemma of being both
accessible and inaccessible simultaneously. Without doubt, the exhibition adhered to established
ADA guidelines to guarantee what is deemed acceptable and accessible for a broader audience.
However, it fell short in completely overcoming ingrained biases in museums favoring visual
culture as the principal mode of experiencing visual art. In the future, the accessibility of such
exhibition could be enhanced by replacing ADA standards with a more personalized, radical
approach which employs translation across the sensory spectrum.
Sick Time, Sleepy Time, Crip Time
The exhibition, Sick Time, Sleepy Time, Crip Time: Against Capitalism Temporal Bullying
(2019), curated by Taraneh Fazeli, focused on the politics of health, care, and disability. The
exhibition, tailored to its location, was in its fourth installment at Red Bull Arts Detroit,
following previous editions in New York/Houston, Omaha, and St. Louis (Figure 15). Different
from the above two case studies, which directly address disability, the curatorial proposition for
this project values care and dependencies emerging from disability justice (Fazeli 2016).
Disability justice highlights that acknowledging dependencies should form the foundation of
ethical human relationships (Lewis 2015). As societal structures and built environments
predominantly contribute to varying levels of dependency among individuals, it is crucial to
recognize that everyone relies on others at different points in their lives. The exhibition
questioned the over-valorization of independence in the U.S. society and asked the question of
how capitalism has led to the debility of various populations while creating bureaucratic systems
that favor only a privileged minority (McRuer 2006). The show valued interdependencies and
dependencies, bringing forth an aspect of collective wellness which was not foregrounded in
many other exhibitions on disability in mainstream arts at the time. The artists featured in this
36
exhibition use the material of care and draw from lived experiences with illness and disability as
creative practices to reimagine new possibilities for collectivity, dependencies, and alternative
ways of living. They asked audience to consider disability as a form of knowledge that inform us
about imbalances in the world and the scarcity of resources that we possess. Individual artworks
addressed care, ancestral healing, illness, fitness, sleep, debt, dependency, crip temporalities, and
wellness culture.
Figure 15: Installation view, Sick Time, Sleepy Time, Crip Time, Red Bull Arts Detroit (Detroit, MI), 18 September –
3 November 2019. Photo by Clare Gatto.
Another recurring theme of the show was crip time. In connection with the concepts by
queer theorist Elizabeth Freeman regarding “chrononormativity,” which explores how societal
norms shape the allocation of time between work and leisure to enhance productivity, the
artworks included suggest examining the temporal aspects of disability, in addition to the
conventional forward-moving narratives of aging and daily rest (Freeman 2010). This
exploration could offer insights into how these alternative temporalities might serve as forms of
resistance against capitalism and other oppressive forces. Many artists participated in the
exhibition explore the concept of sleeping time and how it is tied to non-compliance. Danilo
Correale’s video installation, titled No More Sleep No More (2015), examines the political
dynamics of sleep, specifically addressing the encroachment of working hours on sleep within
the framework of late-capitalist tendencies towards incessant productivity. By juxtaposing
37
imagery captured during periods of sleep deprivation with conversations featuring different sleep
experts, No More Sleep No More posits that sleep stands as an activity with the inherent potential
to fight against standardization and normalization.
As part of an ongoing series centered around self-portraiture through pillows, Constantina
Zavitsanos’s Self Portrait (EMDR), executed between 2009 and 2010, constitutes a year-long
durational performance. This piece leaves its mark in a sculpture crafted from wood and memory
foam, molded by an extended period of activity, namely sleep. The adaptable nature of memory
foam, designed to conform to the contours of a body, underscores its defining characteristic of
providing support to others. Despite activities like recreation and rest often being excluded from
the category of “productive” work, Zavitsanos prompts audience members to recognize that
pursuits such as sleep are crucial for sustaining life. In a transformative immersive experience,
Black Power Naps/Siestas Negras (2019), conceived by artists Navild Acosta and Fannie Sosa,
presents rest as a mode of reparations. The installation beckoned audience members to recline on
adorned beds, complete with ethereal canopies, calming illumination, therapeutic sonic
vibrations, and other rejuvenating elements. Drawing parallels between historical exploitation
tactics employed against slaves and contemporary systems generating erosive fatigue, the artists
proposed this energetic repair as a means to reclaim laziness and idleness as modes of
empowerment for those historically deprived of such privileges (Kafer 2013). Black Power
Naps/Siestas Negras staunchly rejects institutionalized exhaustion and advocates for the
reevaluation of idleness, down time, and sleep – often associated with a perception of
dysfunctional human existence. The show complicates the representation of disability as its
themes extend beyond physical or visible differences. It guides the audience to experience the
concealed contrasts between the “disabled” body and the idealized productive body, considering
experiences of temporalities, radical kinship, and collective forms of caring. The selected
artworks defied expectations regarding how a body should function and produce, challenging
notions of normalcy for those who cannot return to it and those who actively reject doing so. As
curator Fazeli states, “it is time to observe, to daydream, to be difficult, and uncooperative”
(Fazeli 2016, 8).
The show challenged normative and normalizing expectations of pace and scheduling
through experimentation during the duration of the exhibition. The exhibition extended beyond
its opening and closing moments. Numerous activities, such as works with site-responsive or
38
social practice dimensions, evolving new commissions, and ongoing institutional access efforts,
continued to be in progress. Usually, when the exhibition is held, it marks the period when
discourse around disability and the care for disability communities reaches its peak. As soon as
the exhibition closes, the local landscape goes back to “normal” with no structural changes. This
was not the case for this exhibition. The crucial aspect of the project was to move beyond
developing short-term relationships with disabled communities and instead facilitated ongoing,
durable cooperation between the host institution and the communities represented by the artists.
Taking an approach specific to location, Fazeli assisted Red Bull Arts Detroit and other local
organizations in improving their accessibility for disabled individuals and others affected by
exclusionary processes. This approach involved conducting an accessibility assessment for the
host Red Bull Arts Detroit, leading to incremental enhancements and providing the staff with
training on intersectional anti-oppression. Subsequently, a resource library was established,
containing assistive technologies and grants intended for use by smaller local organizations and
independent cultural event organizers. Collaborative efforts were also initiated with
organizations such as Detroit Disability Power, a movement focused on building cross-disability
empowerment, and RIP Medical Debt, a nonprofit dedicated to purchasing and forgiving medical
debt. Within all these activities, Fazeli did not just work with museum staff, management and
administrators to make decisions about access issues. External accessibility consultants,
including Ezra Benus, Dessa Cosma, Ani Grigorian along with many disabled artists and
activists were involved in developing the accompanying programs or events for the exhibition.
This method is emancipatory because the institution no longer sees itself as the expert or
gatekeepers of the needs of disabled people (Hollins 2010). The consultation is not only
museum-oriented but also focuses on what can be done with disabled people, rather than just for
them. It forms a two-way dialogue in which disabled communities’ opinions are heard, shared
and realized.
39
Conclusion
Throughout this thesis, I have made a concentrated effort to return curating to its etymological
roots as a form of care work. Care is the essence of curatorial practices, but the most effective
methods for establishing access are frequently misconceived by art museums (Krasny and Perry
2023). Access is not something that art museums must deliver through paternal procedural
“care,” and it does not have to be a massive program. It can be small and should prioritize
flexibility, adapting to different exhibitions.
This thesis analyzes how ableism is deeply ingrained in art museums, ranging from
obligatory checklists to follow disability legislation imperatives in superficial ways to the
absence of representation of artworks by disabled artists. It emphasizes the role of curators in
implementing radical changes to address longstanding inequalities toward disabled communities
rooted in gallery spaces. In each of the case studies, the curators, equipped with knowledge and
expertise in both disability art and rights, upend traditional assumptions and stereotypes about
disability rather than perpetuating them. They encourage audience members to reconsider their
preconceived notions about disability, encouraging them to free disability from restrictive
classifications such as “normal” and “pathological.” They present disability as an enlightening
framework that exposes the diversity inherent in human nature. The themes of the exhibitions
provide a broader portrayal of disability, establishing connections with gender, sexuality, crip
temporality, collective wellness, and perceptual or sensory embodiment. Together, they
demonstrate that the improvisational choreography demanded by disability legislation holds
significant potential for challenging the rigid structures of society that currently only benefit a
privileged few. The endeavor also does not end with merely ensuring physical accessibility for
disabled individuals. The accessibility measures incorporated in these exhibitions transcend mere
compliance and the checklist approach. They go beyond the principles of universal design and
address disability as integral parts of the exhibitions. Some of these measures evolve into
generative art meaning making by being directly integrated into the experience of the artwork
itself. This involves the collaboration of the artist and curator in its execution. Moreover, the
perspectives and presence of disability artists and curators are expanded into programming,
reaching communities outside of the institutions. This approach fosters long-term structural
changes to the local landscape. The curators even took risks, exhibiting works that might invite
40
staring or medicalized curiosity. Through juxtaposing these works with others that emphasize the
relationship between the audience and subjects, curators elicit alternative and progressive ways
of thinking about disability.
Although the curatorial practices demonstrated in these case studies provide valuable
insights from which curators can draw, they also bring up the challenges associated with
disability-related curation. While tackling barriers to access in art museums all at once is a
utopian aspiration, it should not be the reason to give up on implementing accessible features.
Even though complete access is not achievable, these features cater for a more differentiated
audiences than we could imagine. These assistive aids are not only useful for the disabled
corporeality, but also for the broader public. Needs of audiences can be overlapping and
interlinked, and a modification that increase accessibility for one individual simultaneously
benefits another (Kuppers 2014). For example, a ramp, initially intended for wheelchair users,
could serve a broader purpose, accommodating mothers with strollers. Insufficient seating,
particularly for those with diverse physical needs, is a common issue. Picture art galleries with
abundant, thoughtfully designed seating for disabled individuals. This might include sturdy,
armless chairs that are size-inclusive and comfortably cushioned benches for easy accessibility.
In addition, incorporating a tactile element into the work can also connect nondisabled audience
in an embodied way that expands definitions of aesthetic encounters. Exploring artworks through
touch can even enable nondisabled audiences to challenge the visual judgements or verbal
interpretations they rely on so heavily in art museums.
This thesis also raised substantial concerns about how disability art is given smaller or
less predominant sites of display. Bringing in perspectives from disabled individuals is crucial
for enhancing diversity in both artists and exhibitions within art museums. However, it’s
important to recognize that this inclusion should not be solely driven by a desire to publicly
showcase diversity for the sake of reputation. Artworks by disabled artists should not be reduced
to mere symbolic representations of identity, exploited by institutions to show a commitment to
inclusion. Such an approach risks turning artworks into spectacles of difference, lacking a
genuine impact on the underlying ableist perspectives entrenched within these institutions. As
demonstrated by the case studies, when curators include the works of disabled artists, it should
transcend being a token gesture of demographic representation. Instead, the works are taken
seriously as worthy of critical investment. The unique qualities of the artwork should be
41
carefully unearthed and analyzed, with the institution making a sustained curatorial investment in
the artists’ practices.
Looking ahead, the question arises: is it possible to curate exhibitions that do not mention
the issue of disability while including works by artists who are? Art museums should provide
opportunities for disability themed exhibitions as well as opportunities to include disability art
and works by disabled artists in other thematic group exhibitions. The aim should be to create a
space where disabled artists are not constrained by reductive labels or categories. Art museums
must avoid establishing a system that pressures disabled artists to frame their practices to be
useful towards these institutional ends, forcing them to perform their disabled identities in a way
that seeks such attention. Disabled artists, like any other artists, should feel free to create work
without the fear of being overlooked by institutions seeking to diversify their programs.
As disability art continues to grow and evolve in America and the rest of the world, our
theoretical understandings needed to curate and display it must also progress. For this evolution
to take place, it is essential that arts professionals and artists persist in writing about,
documenting, and critiquing disability and access, including its representation in visual art
exhibitions. This thesis provides preliminary contributions to the contemporary discourse needed
to curate disability art thoughtfully.
One important lesson we learned from the pandemic is that, as humans, we are beings
made of flesh, blood, and bone, and therefore inherently vulnerable to encounters that will shape
and reshape our bodies as we move through life. Exclusion from full participation due to a
particular human condition is a reality that everyone will likely face at some point in their lives.
Instead of offering simplistic solutions to the issue of inaccessibility in art museums, this thesis
proposes that institutions should bring disabled artists and audiences into dialogue with the world
of mainstream contemporary art.
42
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Asset Metadata
Creator
Xin, Yishan
(author)
Core Title
Ableism in the U.S. art context: curators, art museums, and the non-normative body
School
Roski School of Art and Design
Degree
Master of Arts
Degree Program
Curatorial Practices and the Public Sphere
Degree Conferral Date
2024-05
Publication Date
03/13/2024
Defense Date
03/08/2024
Publisher
Los Angeles, California
(original),
University of Southern California
(original),
University of Southern California. Libraries
(digital)
Tag
ableism,Art museums,curators,OAI-PMH Harvest
Format
theses
(aat)
Language
English
Contributor
Electronically uploaded by the author
(provenance)
Advisor
Jones, Amelia (
committee chair
), Campbell, Andy (
committee member
), Lin, Jenny (
committee member
)
Creator Email
yishanx@outlook.com,yishanxi@usc.edu
Permanent Link (DOI)
https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC113851027
Unique identifier
UC113851027
Identifier
etd-XinYishan-12691.pdf (filename)
Legacy Identifier
etd-XinYishan-12691
Document Type
Thesis
Format
theses (aat)
Rights
Xin, Yishan
Internet Media Type
application/pdf
Type
texts
Source
20240319-usctheses-batch-1129
(batch),
University of Southern California
(contributing entity),
University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses
(collection)
Access Conditions
The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the author, as the original true and official version of the work, but does not grant the reader permission to use the work if the desired use is covered by copyright. It is the author, as rights holder, who must provide use permission if such use is covered by copyright.
Repository Name
University of Southern California Digital Library
Repository Location
USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA
Repository Email
cisadmin@lib.usc.edu
Tags
ableism
curators