The Wheelchair: Fit, Form and Desire

Photograph of Ju Gosling's NHS manual folding wheelchairJu Gosling writes: How can a wheelchair be an object of desire? It is more commonly portrayed as an object of horror and disgust, and the need to use it as a tragedy. We all recognise the newly disabled character in film and television - generally played by a non-disabled actor - who detests their wheelchair and wants nothing more than to get out of it, sometimes choosing to die instead if this is not a possibility.

The language that we use to refer to wheelchair users is equally unhelpful. Non-disabled people talk of someone “being in a wheelchair for 15 years” - as if wheelchair users do not leave their chairs every day to sleep, bathe, use the toilet, drive, or just to join the rest of the family on the settee in front of the television in the evening. And non-disabled people frequently refer to full-time wheelchair users (one in twenty of all wheelchair users) as being “confined” to their wheelchairs, as if the chair is an object of imprisonment rather than of liberation.

Of course, many of the wheelchairs supplied to disabled people by the State in the form of social services or the NHS are disabling in themselves: these chairs are often badly designed, ugly, uncomfortable, and difficult or impossible to use independently. My own NHS “self-propelling” wheelchair (above) was difficult for anyone to lift into a car, increased my pain levels because it provided no proper spinal support for me, and was in fact to heavy to propel independently. Who indeed would welcome one of these into their lives?

But when a wheelchair does fit us, when its form does suit us, when its design does meet fully with our desires, then it is the most liberating, desirable means of transport for people with mobility impairments of every kind. Suddenly we can sit comfortably and move wherever we wish for as long as we wish at the touch of a button or the flick of a wheel: we are free.

Photograph of Ju Gosling's new hi-tech manual wheelchairMy new self-propelling wheelchair (pictured here), made by RGK and supplied by the Wheelchair Warehouse, is a genuine object of desire for me. Manufactured largely from titanium and leather, it was custom-made to fit my form. But its purchase was made possible only by the Government’s Access to Work Scheme - desirable wheelchairs which fit our form and empower our independence are expensive, while disabled people have the lowest incomes of anyone in the country. Despite the language of “social inclusion”, desirable wheelchairs are not considered to be necessary for us to live independently, only to work.

Equally, the popular image of the wheelchair prevails, and as a result, many people who would benefit from using a wheelchair either refuse, or are refused permission, to do so. The goal is to appear “normal” - without impairments - as if having a mobility impairment is not normal, and as if we will not all have impairments of some kind over the course of our lifetimes. Thus people who have great difficulty in walking are still denied or deny themselves access to wheelchairs, and have far narrower, harder lives as a result.

This attitude is propagated at the highest levels of our society. The Pope and the Queen Mother, both old enough to know better, refused to be seen in public using wheelchairs, preferring to be be viewed as immobile and dependent. Perhaps it is unsurprising, then, that so many other older people within our society are leading restricted and difficult lives rather than use a wheelchair. Meanwhile physiotherapists continue to teach disabled people that wheelchair use is a sign of failure, to be avoided if at all possible even if the alternative is pain and immobility.

The irony, of course, is that many non-disabled people in the United Kingdom rarely walk at all - they sit down and drive their children to school; they sit down and drive to the shops; they sit down and drive to work; they sit down and drive to see their friends - even when all of these activities take place within five miles of their homes. And then they come home and sit down in front of the television until it is time to go to bed. That would have been unthinkable in this country during the first half of the twentieth century, and remains unthinkable in many countries worldwide today.

And yet, despite the billions of pounds which are spent on roads to facilitate the use of private cars, and the massive changes to the environment that this causes, no one questions this as being “normal”. It is both “normal” to walk, and at the same time it is “normal” for those who can walk to choose NOT to walk. Indeed, it is desirable not to walk if you CAN walk easily: a car signifies status and power; while walking signifies poverty.

If someone needs to use a wheelchair in order to live their life as fully as possible, though, everything changes. It is “normal” to build roads, and then to install speed humps, but it is not regarded as “normal” to create regular dropped kerbs to allow wheelchair users, parents with buggies etc to cross those roads easily. It is “normal” to build steps rather than ramps; it is not regarded as “normal” to install lifts instead of or as well as staircases. In fact, it is “normal” to make the built environment difficult or impossible for all of us to access at some point in our lives, as if we only deserve to participate fully in society when we can walk (even if we normally choose to drive instead).

Photograph of the Go Go Gadget WheelchairWithin the adorn, Equip exhibition, Felicity Shillingford, Paul Magarry and Gary Robson’s Go Go Gadget Wheelchair illustrates wheelchair users’ desires together with our frustrations with the surreal logic governing our society today. The Go Go Gadget Wheelchair is silver and imposing and cannot be ignored: its user will always be visible, however hard passers-by try to ignore them - particularly given the flashing hazard lights. And if onlookers are abusive, there is always the boxing glove on a spring, or in extreme cases, the rocket which is mounted on the side. Or the user can ignore them and choose instead to turn on the radio, use the camera or simply have a drink of whisky.

Mountain bike wheels state that the user intends to go everywhere, without restraint, and a helicopter-like propeller shows how this will be managed in the face of obstructions like steps and kerbs. The speed of the chair is unhampered by social workers’ fears that disabled people will run riot and cause accidents if we travel at more than five miles an hour: aircraft engines are mounted on each side of the chair, while a platform at the back allows a companion to ride along when they are unable to keep up on foot. A grappling hook can be thrown out anchor-like to stop the chair, or to retrieve objects that are otherwise inaccessible.

And the user of such a chair can only be a superhero - not invisible and denied full civil and human rights, “bravely” negotiating a disabling world, as wheelchair users in this country are today. In real life, though, disabled people do not want to seen as heroic - just as being “normal”, with it being normal to include us fully in every part of life, and to create an environment which allows for this.

© 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