Up until the early 21st century western society viewed disability as an impairment, something opposite the normality of a healthy body; something to be ashamed of, hidden, ridiculed or even pitied. Charity collection was all about pulling at the heartstrings of ‘normal folk’ who didn’t have to live every day not being able to function ‘properly’.
Fig. 1. Picture of a boy putting money into a spastics society collection box.
In the 70s The Spastics Society used tired looking collection boxes of young, fair haired, boys and girls in callipers, with a slot in their head to collect money. This was seen as normal and complimentary to the cause. In 1979 Valerie Lang became The Spastic Society’s first disabled woman trustee and successfully campaigned to replace the collection dolls. (Scope.org.uk, 2015) In the 80s, the term ‘spastic’ became an insult within the UK, one of the main reasons for this is because of shows like Blue Peter following
the lives of disabled children in an attempt to show disability in a positive light. Consequently in 1994, following a two-year consultation with disabled people and their families, The Spastics Society changed to it’s name to SCOPE.
The title to this paper has changed numerous throughout the research. It was originally inspired by two things. One was an attendance to the Nine Worlds Convention in London in August 2015. The convention itself boasts comprehensive inclusiveness for visible and invisible disability. During one of the performances, which included a sing-a-long, there were a number of printed handouts of the lyrics. As well as ones printed in what is commonly seen as ‘reading size’ there were a few larger print versions so that people with visual impairment could read the lyrics. These books were plainly written and took no design into account. I began to think about how they could be designed differently and maybe even combined with the con-book, a booklet designed to accompany the convention that included times of events etc. I also wondered if that too would need a large print version, and how differently that would need to be designed.
It was after a visit to the Victoria and Albert museum in London where one of the exhibitions was dark and hard to see, I again began to think about how difficult it would be for someone who was visually impaired. It was also noted that the large print rendition of the small exhibition notes, (which for the more able bodied was next to the item it was talking about) was a separate booklet and to one side, away from the items of the exhibition. This could cause a feeling of segregation for someone who was visually impaired. It was then I began to think about how easy or how hard it would be to have adapted the large print to actually be a feature of the exhibition.
As pointed out earlier, it has been traditionally met that the priority for designing for disability is to incite pity or to enable a person to do something whilst simultaneously attracting as little attention to the disability and to them as possible. Like The Spastics Society collection boxes, most medical devices were moulded from an ugly pink plastic that attempted to mimic a flesh like colour, while simultaneously excludes other skin colours, in an attempt to camouflage them. So the question arises should designers change these designs to be more inclusive of disability?
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