Some thoughts on art and joy (and my dad)!
Hello from a plane! I’ve started this post flying back from a trip to western Massachusetts where I spent the last 8 days with friends from college celebrating our graduation. The only thing I’m going to say about that is that goodbyes are weird and we take having fun very seriously at UMass. Anyways. Here we are. This month’s post is maybe a bit different – blame it on the altitude, the mind-fuck that is hurtling through space and time in a plastic metal winged tube, or shitty wifi - but I got inspired to change things up a little bit and share some things I’ve recently discovered within the conversation of access. Enjoy.
Being judgmental (& a little bit gay?)
I give my dad a call. It’s 12:30 AM on the east coast, but I know he’ll pick up. This is around the time he heads up to his studio to begin painting each night.
He’s an artist. Not just as a side hobby, but the type that got a degree in the sciences, yet decided to dedicate his life to creating art. What this really meant to me growing up is that I could be sure to see light seeping out from the windows of his studio between 11PM - 3AM; that he often smelled like linseed oil; and that he is the most observant person I know.
I call him now to tell him about the art class I signed up for on Monday nights. A Matisse-inspired oil painting class, which I would have known if I had taken the 30 seconds to read the welcome email.
The art teacher for my class reminds me of him. She tells us she’s an NYU business grad who moved to San Diego for a marketing job, only to quit said-marketing job and open up this art studio. This is a classic tale - the quitting of the stable job to pursue a creative passion – usually accompanied by a drastic move to Spain or Costa Rica or some place where food is cheap and people don’t take things as seriously.
I envy these people. I also sometimes judge these people. I especially judge my new art teacher on this first Monday-night class. Where did she get this trust and/or bravery to make such a drastic career change? Especially in a city where the cost of living is so high? Isn’t that a bit irresponsible? And how is she so relaxed right now? And so kind and gentle and not frustrated with this group of people who spent an hour and a half on the color wheel and who didn’t even take the time to read her welcome email? (reading this back now, I think I could probably chalk this up to being a little bit into her).
On the phone, I run my dad through tonight’s big ideas: Matisse et al. and my tendency to judge creative risk-taking people (I leave out the gay-crush bit). I admit to him that despite growing up as his daughter, I think I still view art as kind of a luxury, an escape or some form of entertainment. Not as a legit serious-person job.
My dad doesn’t take this to heart. He’s good about that. He begins to tell me about an artist he used to work for back in his late 20s:
“My favorite artist friend always used to equate spending a few hours at an art museum to having a really good home cooked meal. He was always running off to some museum after work, or spending his free weekends at the local openings. He needed to. There wasn’t ever a question about it. He and I were very similar and I think this is the best way to describe how I feel about art. It's my nutrition.”
Something about this really got me. Even writing this now I am overcome by a love for my dad and the overwhelming feeling that I want to cry and book another flight home to hug him and protect him and anyone else who feels this way about art. I’m not sure if it is something I fully understand, but I think it’s incredible that some people create, not to be perceived, and not to make money (although that would be welcome), but because they need to. It’s foreign to me, but it sounds pretty nice.
What about the disability-bit?
How does this connect to disability, you ask? It doesn’t need to - I could leave these thoughts here - at my sense of enchantment and wonder for art and the people that make it. But I think it does! How incredibly special it is to find your thing that feels like a home cooked meal. When it comes to art and creative pursuits there are ALREADY so many obstacles that interfere with being able to focus on art — and we make it even harder for disabled people to get involved.
Stevie Wonder aka my 4th grade fixation:
I was probably around 9 when my parents pulled up Stevie Wonder’s "Isn't She Lovely?” live performance on the TV. Not only was this my first introduction to Stevie Wonder but it was my first real exploration of blindness.
Why is he wearing sunglasses? If he’s fully blind how is he able to read music and perform like that? And most importantly, Why did the song start with a baby crying? I fired off a round of questions to my mom. Suddenly having been confronted with Stevie Wonder in all of his talent, I was confused. This was completely shattering any assumption I may have held towards those that are blind, or have any sort of limited sensory experiences.
The self-fulfilling prophecy of disability
A wealth of research that I’ve read surrounding the social impacts of an identity like disability are the barriers it can erect to joy. One component of this is a lack of inclusion in the arts.
It seems like the biggest driver to the upholding of these barriers are our expectations. We don’t expect people with certain disabilities to engage in art like we can (e.g. my assumptions about Stevie Wonder), therefore sometimes they don't. And if they do find their way to engage amidst the wealth of barriers we’ve built, they are deemed an inspiration! (a very tiring label, and something to perhaps unpack another time).
In psychology, this is referred to as a self-fulfilling prophecy, and if you haven’t seen it yet - Madison Tevlin depicts the self-fulfilling prophecy of down syndrome - particularly challenging people's assumptions about lifestyle, art and culture.
I think we’re all a little bit guilty of this - I’m guilty of this! My assumptions sure didn’t stop after my first-impression of Stevie Wonder.
Cool people doing cool things!
Luckily, some very cool people have begun to challenge these assumptions some of us hold. They have taken the step to think —Hey! Let’s begin thinking about disabled people being in the middle of this joyful thing. What would that look like, how would we make that happen? In the past few years many of these things have begun to sprout up, and I would like to share some that stand out to me:
Tactile images:
Visual art for the longest time – was only made available to low vision or blind people through auditory or braille descriptions of the work. However, as objective as one can be with their description, we know that art really is up to interpretation and to a non conceptual visceral experience. Some of these so-called cool people have tried to reimagine ways that blind/visually impaired people can directly experience art and make up their own interpretations.
Enter: 3D printing! In the past few years, 3D has been making art more accessible by creating touchable versions of art - especially famous pieces. Some really cool 3D printing art startups are at the forefront, namely tactile images a group that is printing famous works down to the brushstrokes for those that are visually impaired to feel their way through an art piece.
Now, to me this does seem pretty great as it’s a new way to interact with pre-existing famous 2D works. But what about artists incorporating haptic experiences into the creation and art itself? Not a replica made as an afterthought- but the whole idea.
Roy Nachum:
Artist Roy Nachum (who you may be familiar with as he designed the cover for one of Rhianna’s albums) has dedicated most of his art to exploring diversity in visual experiences. One of his series invites people to feel the braille poetry that is embossed on the painting. What I find so cool is that he lightly covers his art in ash so that fingerprint marks are left on the work as a person reads the Braille messages.
Not impossible studio & lab:
Outside of visual art, very cool people have also been challenging auditory experiences! One of my favorites is the not impossible studio & lab, a group that among other things has created a wearable tech vest that translates sound to the skin through vibration. I’ll let you give it a watch yourself:
In conclusion and out of time..
All of this is to say -
Art is amazing and if it is your nutrition I am both envious of and enchanted by you.
The people working to make art/joy/nutrition (whatever you want to call it) more accessible are dope!! And should be highlighted!
To me, this feels like a really important step for evening out the playing field of access to participating in culture, but ALSO for changing perceptions about disability. Getting people very used to the completely ordinary idea of a person with visually impairment at the Met, a wheelchair user dancing in the middle of a club floor, a deaf person at a concert…
If you know of other cool steps on this front – please please share them with me! I think we call all take steps to begin imagining disabled people at the center (not just the outskirts - as we all so often do) of our joyous spaces.
YES 👏👏👏
This is so enlightening. Thank you!