Mx.D.P

Some days feel like an uphill struggle; well, we can all identify with that, I am sure. However, if you are disabled, it becomes an absolute sh*t show at times, and you ask yourself, why do I do it?

I could sit on the furry deck chair looking out to sea minding my own darn business, or on a day like today when storm Debi is rattling the windows of the beach hut, lay here in my recliner in front of the wood burner with a giant furry cat sat on my lap. No, instead, I am typing or trying to type on my old iPad. My heart is f*cked, and it is the little things that annoy me, like trying to type on a touch screen!

There is a storm – which means low pressure – which is the same as going up a hill – which means my heart doesn’t work – which means my hands get cold – which means my touch pad doesn’t know I am F*CKING ALIVE – which means it takes bl**dy ages to type – which means I should have a keyboard – but they are not as easy to use laying down – and I am laying down because my heart isn’t working properly…. Arrrggghhh

I have been productive today; I followed up on a lead given to me by my fellow coursemate, which meant more writing. Midway through my BA, I realised that art means a lot of writing! It’s only a tiny percentage of making, a significant percentage of thinking, a lot of chit-chat and connection making and a sh*t ton of writing…. Luckily, it’s turned out I quite enjoy writing; I never thought I would, and although my old art history professors might disagree, I’m getting the hang of it!

In one of my blog posts, I talked about artist communities and how passing on leads and recommendations is vital for an active artistic practice.

It’s amazing how a simple conversation or suggestion can spark inspiration and lead to new opportunities; despite the health challenges, or maybe even because of them, there is always a new, exciting world to explore.

This week has been about preparation for my trip to London and the Embodying Horizons Workshop with the Feminist Internet. I have some legislation concerning AI to research, but the primary prep is physical!

Before you can do anything as a disabled artist, you have to think about how. How can I work around my disabilities, how will I cope, and what will happen to my body?

So it’s been about prepping my new mobility scooter, tyres, lights, needs a seat cushion as I am tall and my legs won’t fit, learning to ride it… routes I might take to get to and from the station, sorting out finances, passenger assist on the trains, has the premier inn got a lift, what will the CCI: UAL building be like? I know their new library hasn’t got access to anything but the ground floor because it needs a new lift system and they don’t have any information about when it will be fitted!!! But they are happy to get a book for me or direct me to another library…. mmm unconscious ableism right there as I’m co-hosting a reading group; if I were to do that in person as opposed to online (at one stage, there was talk of it) I wouldn’t have pain free access and now any disabled students that need a lift and would like to be in person can’t…

Writing has become part of my art practice. It collects experience and connects with others to make a difference and change the world.

But first, before I can change the world, I have to learn to ride my scooter. Not easy on the ridiculous pavements of my home village, Sadie, the gallery owner at 2 London Place, wheels her wheelchair along the road; she has given up on the assault course pavements; I’m with her on that!

Today, I practised tight space manoeuvre around Marks and Sparks… not easy when all the aisles are crammed full of Christmas stock in the middle of November… forming yet another assault course! That would make a great Christmas advert: supermarket assault with mobility scooters!

I think supermarket shop floor designers should be made to go around them in a wheelchair… more writing… maybe an animation there…

This afternoon, I attended a talk by Indian artist Arpita Akhanda, where she discussed her art practice as the ‘memory collector’, materially weaving her ancestry into her work.

Maybe all artists do that, we become a collective of circumstance and endeavour.

Right let’s pimp this ride!