Image, ability by Julia Cassim
Fashion
and lifestyle magazines are a genre not known for their longevity. There are
of course exceptions, the September 1998 issue of 'Dazed
and Confused' being one of them. Mention its contents and even trend-hungry
fashion victims for whom last week was ancient history remember it in the way
that others recall their precise whereabouts on the day that John F. Kennedy
or Jill Dando were shot.
Guest-edited by 'bad-boy' designer Alexander McQueen, the magazine featured a series of photographs by Nick Knight. They showed young disabled people modelling clothes created for them by McQueen and his contemporaries - Hussein Chalayan, Philip Treacy, Roland Mouret, and Catherine Blade. David Toole of the CanDoCo Dance Company was seen balanced on one hand, the unfurled fan of his ivory costume shooting upwards, mirroring the movement of his body. Aimee Mullens striking a domineering pose in a crinoline corset looked contemptuously down at the lens, balanced on two muddied prostheses like a pastoral Marie-Antoinette. More daringly, Chalayan made the naked body of Alison Lapper his canvas, using colour and light to create a minimalist patchwork that emphasised her statuesque, limbless form.
To say that the images were sensational is to understate the case for they marked a profound sea change in attitude. That they appeared in a magazine devoted to ephemera and not social issues brought under scrutiny the print media's portrayal of disabled people as well as who controls what is seen. In this narcissistic age, Gerri Halliwell or Posh Spice's stripped down or surgically enhanced bodies are presented as emblems of moral worth - the essence of their personhood, branded images splashed across the pages of tabloid and broadsheet alike. Readers may snigger at the pair's vanity and presumption but unquestioningly adopt them as role models for their own body beautiful - 'One can never be too thin or too rich' quoth the Duchess of Windsor in the 1930's and the message has not changed one whit to this day.
For disabled people the record got stuck long ago - five centuries separate Pieter Bruegel the Elder's 'Parable of the Blind Men' of 1568 and Diane Arbus' 1960's images of dwarfs, Jewish giants and adults with ‘Downs Syndrome’. In attitudinal terms, little separates the two. Yet the latter's images are accepted unquestioningly as a valid aesthetic by heavyweight critics like Susan Sontag who in turn influence art historians, curators and so on down the visual arts food chain. It is part of the 'enfreakment' of photography as described by David Hevey which only becomes a hotly debated issue in the public domain when 'heroin chic' or images of underage anorexia become the dominant fashion aesthetic and a threat to public health. Show the images of Arbus and they are read as objective social commentary, nothing more.
Awareness of the issues of representation of minorities has unquestionably risen and times are now more politically correct. Yet unlike other communities, disabled people continue to be caught in a particular bind and it is not one of their own making. Aside from the 'tragic but brave' or 'battling the odds' news stories of disabled achievers, any striking image of a disabled person we see is likely to be part of a poster campaign for a major charity. The aim is to raise awareness of the issues affecting the depicted community but the effect can be quite different. For there's nothing like fear and pity to induce people to give generously, the underlying reason for this dual exercise in consciousness and fundraising. Inevitably, images and text tend to reflect this uneasy marriage. How many of these posters show disabled people as masters of their own fate and not the passive 'victims' of their condition, singled out and set apart?
Like it or not, body image rules OK! Yet the message seems lost on the designers and manufacturers of the aids and equipment used by an estimated four million of the 8.4 million disabled people in the UK who come under the aegis of the Disability Discrimination Act. Many of their products are functional, innovative in their use of technology and may meet the specific clinical needs of their users, yet fail miserably to address their aesthetic or lifestyle aspirations. Engineered rather than designed, these essential aids stigmatise rather than integrate. Unwittingly, they reinforce images of disability not ability and present the medical and not social model of disability for our view. The inventions of Heath Robinson may conjure affectionate smiles on the faces of the non-disabled people but imagine the situation, where the equipment and aids so crucial to one's daily independence and quality of life bear his aesthetic stamp.
This awareness of the key role played by design lies at the heart of the work of the Helen Hamlyn Research Centre - a centre for inclusive design at the Royal College of Art. Working with students and a range of external partners, our programmes aim to show how design can empower, promote quality of life and be a force for social inclusion. Each year postgraduate design students consult with user groups drawn from communities traditionally marginalised or excluded wholesale from the design process - older people, young disabled people and those affected by rapid social change. The raw data from these sessions is transformed into innovative prototypes for products and services in four themed categories - work, age, mobility, and care. These are shown as part of the students' final degree show in a competition called 'design for our future selves' which draws increasing of entries each year.
This year, Guy Robinson's 'Life Supports' took the first prize in the care category with his radical ergonomic and aesthetic redesign of crutches. By relocating this standard item in sports and not medical culture, he shifted the design model. With equal emphasis placed on body image and functionality, Robinson recognised that an aid is more than a piece of equipment to the disabled user. It is an extension of the body as crucial to it’s users self image as a tattoo, designer frock, toned body or whatever else he/she wishes to convey. Three years ago, 'Dazed and Confused' threw down an unequivocal gauntlet to the fashion industry whose effects continue to be felt. Two decades after the International Year of Disabled People of 1981, it is certain that this exhibition will achieve the same long-term effects in the self-contained world of museums and beyond.
Julia Cassim is editor of 'innovate' the research and development journal for small firms in the care and disability sector, and is research co-ordinator of the Small Business Programme at the Helen Hamlyn Research Centre, Royal College of Art
Illustration: 'Parable of the Blind Men' 1568 (detail) Pieter Bruegel the Elder
© The City Gallery, Leicester and the artists: 2001
This site was built by Ju Gosling aka ju90 during an artist's residency at Oriel 31 in November 2001