By Dr. Nancy Proctor
Dr. Nancy is the Executive Director of the Peale as well as the co-chair of MuseWeb, an international conference that focuses on innovation in the cultural sector.

Pre-Covid-19, this essay began as a discussion of the way in which contemporary lives blur the boundaries between the “real” and the “virtual.” In our cross-platform world, my thesis went, we move between the physical and digital spheres like cyborgs: an encounter can be no less impactful, an emotion no less “real,” for having been experienced in an online environment. By the same token, there are few activities in the physical world that remain unmediated by digital tools, at minimum the ubiquitous “phone,” without which, it is easy to imagine, we would no longer have memories. 

Ironically it took a global pandemic to reveal just how deeply rooted we still are in the physical world. By restricting us to online interactions for months on end, Covid-19 showed us how ill prepared we were to use our advanced digital technologies to their full potential, and where our digital blind spots lay. Even at the Peale, with a technologically-savvy team and a born-digital collection, we found ourselves in April 2020 wondering why we hadn’t been doing more online pre-quarantine, given the extraordinary increase in our global reach and audiences as we took all of our programs online for the duration of the pandemic. For example, the Peale now has a growing audience of Deaf participants in its online programs – an inclusive design development that was inspired the Redefine/ABLE exhibition’s move online and will continue into the Peale’s programming in the physical world as well. What took us so long?

As “the oldest new museum in Baltimore,” the Peale has embraced its unparalleled opportunity to question and reinvent the very concept of museum for the 21st century, while building on two centuries of cultural, technological, and educational innovation within its own historic walls. Opened in 1814 by artist Rembrandt Peale, Peale’s Baltimore Museum and Gallery of the Fine Art Arts was housed in the first purpose-built museum in the United States. Rembrandt’s museum was inspired by his father, Charles Willson Peale, who had opened the first American museum in Philadelphia in 1786. Rembrandt also introduced gas lighting to the city of Baltimore. By 1816 his Baltimore Gas Light Company was building the country’s first gas streetlight network, giving Baltimore its nickname today: “Light City.”

Peale sold his building to the city to become Baltimore’s first City Hall in 1829, and in 1878 the City located Male and Female Colored School No. 1 in the Peale Museum building – the first of the city’s public schools to offer Black students a secondary school education. After the school moved onto bigger and newer premises, eventually to become Frederick Douglass High School, the building was used for manufacturing and finally became a museum again in 1930 – the city’s first Municipal Museum. Part of the City Life Museums, the Peale Museum was known as the go-to place for those wanting to learn about Baltimore, from students to out-of-town visitors, and along with an impressive collection presented ground-breaking and critically-acclaimed exhibitions that focused on the social history and fabric of the city. 

Unfortunately, the Peale Museum was shuttered in 1997. Along with a number of other city-owned museums, its collection was transferred to the Maryland Historical Society, and the vacant historic building was left to decay for 20 years. 

In 2017, we began bringing the Peale back to life as a home for Baltimore stories, and a laboratory for museum practice. We are reimagining the 21st century museum as much more than a treasure house; it is a production house of culture – a laboratory in which we can experiment and share new models for accessibility, sustainability, and relevance to communities across Baltimore and around the world. The Peale is a place where local creators – storytellers, griots, performers, artists, architects, historians, students, educators, and other culture-keepers – can produce and share authentic narratives of the city, its places, and the diverse people who have made Baltimore what it is today to create a more inclusive cultural record of the city. In the Peale Museum building, Baltimore’s stories and voices have a home that honors their contributions to the city’s cultural heritage. 

We recognized at the beginning of the pandemic lockdowns that without safe physical gathering places to record and share Baltimore’s stories, the Peale risked becoming part of the problems it aims to address with its mission to create a truly representative soundtrack of the city. How could we include the voices and stories of those without access to the internet and digital story recording tools? We added a free “storytelling hotline” to our toolkit, making it possible for anyone to record and hear stories from a telephone, smart or otherwise. Daisy Brown, the Peale’s Storytelling Ambassador, started her “Stoop Shoots” program, recording Covid-19 and other stories of residents around the city in safe outdoor locations to create audio-visual portraits. We partnered with Libraries without Borders to include the Peale’s app and information on how to share Baltimore stories in the “tech kits” the organization distributes for free to people who lack internet access across the city. 

Redefine/ABLE extended this mission by specifically addressing the needs of and inviting people living with disabilties to be a part of this cultural record. We originally planned for the exhibition to be accessible in two physical locations: at the Carroll Mansion in Downtown Baltimore, the Peale’s temporary home while it was undergoing renovations, and at the University of Maryland’s Herman Maril Gallery in College Park. In order to connect and extend audiences at these sites to online participants, the exhibition would also include a website and social media outreach to gather and share stories from people with differing abilities and accessibility preferences. 

With the intervention of Covid-19, the exhibition website became Redefine/ABLE’s primary location, showcasing powerful video interviews of people living with disabilities and insightful essays on inclusive design. Anyone can share their stories of challenging inaccessibility by using the Peale’s web-based story recording tools, the free Be Here Stories app, and a free “storytelling hotline.” Contributors’ stories become part of the Peale’s collectively-authored archive of Baltimore stories – now the largest in the world – that are published on a wide range of digital platforms as well as presented live in the historic Peale Museum building and beyond. All of the exhibition’s events— from a workshop on inclusive storytelling to panel discussions of how Covid-19 has impacted accessibility and bridging the “digital divide”—happened online with live-streamed CART transcription and ASL interpretation. The recordings of these events and their transcripts remain a free online resource, available to all. 

In addition, we recreated the Peale in the virtual world, Second Life, through a partnership with Linden Lab and Virtual Ability, Inc. Within the virtual Peale we installed a re-imagined version of the physical Redefine/ABLE exhibition in a digital gallery modeled on the physical Peale’s “Picture Gallery,” the room that makes the historic museum building architecturally unique. The benefit of this additional exhibition version is that, like the Redefine/ABLE website and social media posts, it is accessible to online audiences 24/7 and engages an entirely new global audience for the Peale. The project has already received more “virtual visits” than people who would have been likely to see the physical exhibitions in person at the Peale in Baltimore.  

Nonetheless, as a panel discussed during the exhibition’s open event in Second Life, there are limitations on accessibility even in the internet’s oldest and most developed virtual world: sign language interpretation is not yet possible due to the limitations of rendering for avatars, and some find the need to build and navigate the world via an avatar too onerous, either for their technical skills or their computers’ processing power. Even as virtual worlds have enabled access for people of many differing needs and abilities to a wide range of experiences and communities, they are not a panacea for inclusion. With no single platform or solution for universal accessibility, inclusion must be approached, as Debbie Staigerwald from The Arc Baltimore commented during a Redefine/ABLE online event, “one person at a time.” 

Distributed across multiple physical and digital platforms, the structure of the Redefine/ABLE exhibition reflects the emergent nature of the museum as distributed network in the internet age. Perhaps more now than even in its original dual-site format, the Redefine/ABLE exhibition represents an important initiative for testing and exploring ways of creating spaces that are not just more accessible but also more inclusive, whether physical, digital or social, in cultural organizations and beyond. The project has transformed the way we approach presenting online exhibitions and events at the Peale, helping us make important advances in the accessibility of our programming, as well as delivering on our mission to be a laboratory for developing more accessible and inclusive cultural spaces.

In a sense, the Peale has never been more accessible than since the pandemic began. The Redefine/ABLE exhibition exemplifies this pivot in the wake of the Covid-19 outbreak as well as the Peale’s commitment to inclusion. But is the Peale more inclusive as a result? As the Peale’s focus on online programming since the pandemic started has demonstrated, there are limits to the reach and accommodations afforded by digital technologies. Like the historic Peale Museum building, currently under renovation to add accessible facilities and an elevator, the tools and techniques needed to bridge the “digital divide” today are incomplete, in development, and in some cases completely absent. How can we “dismantle the master’s house” using the digital tools currently at our disposal? 

Speaking in a panel discussion on this topic as part of the Redefine/ABLE exhibition project, Dr. Nettrice Gaskins, digital artist and educator, argued that we can only be fully inclusive when those who have been excluded by the systems of power and oppression build and control the platforms and tools necessary to create a new cultural discourse. This is an important inflection on the 1980s rallying cry, “nothing about us without us,” suggesting the need to redefine not only the Peale’s commitment to accessibility, but also its strategy for inclusion. It requires the Peale and cultural organizations of all kinds to commit to capacity-building and enabling access to the means of cultural production for constituents. With these tools and resources Baltimore’s storytellers can bridge the physical and the digital, connecting platforms and communities globally in their own distributed networks to write a soundtrack of the city that, by including all its voices, helps people everywhere see Baltimore in a new light.

Source:

Lorde, Audre. “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” 1984. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Ed. Berkeley, CA: Crossing Press. 110- 114. 2007. Print. Accessed September 1, 2020 https://collectiveliberation.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Lorde_The_Masters_Tools.pdf

By Dr. Cheryl Fogle-Hatch
Dr. Cheryl Fogle-Hatch is an independent consultant researching and developing multi-sensory content for museums and other cultural organizations. She holds a Ph.D. in anthropology from the University of New Mexico and designs and leads hands-on science activities for the National Federation of the Blind.

museumsenses.org

The Redefine/ABLE exhibition, designed to create an accessible, inclusive experience, allows visitors to confront their biases about disability, ability and ableism. Although it is now only accessible in digital format due to Covid-19, its original design for two different physical spaces offered visitors an opportunity to explore receiving input through different senses. In this spirit, I am writing to encourage sighted people to confront prohibitions against touch and to consider how such stigmas affect those to whom tactile exploration is essential for information gathering (i.e., people who are blind). This is timely given the development of new cultural norms discouraging touching in the post-Covid-19 era.

I begin this essay by sharing observations of visitor behavior at a tactile art exhibit, “Ways of Seeing,” that ran during the summer of 2019 in Baltimore. Next, I discuss the work of writers who have considered the place of touch in galleries and museums, both historically and in the present. Finally, I conclude with my thoughts on the necessity of rehabilitating the sense of touch to respectability despite the challenges to tactile exploration adopted in response to the coronavirus pandemic. When touch is expected, it will be destigmatized and people who are blind may hope to gain access to museum experiences in an integrated, inclusive setting.

Engaging touch and other senses

Ann Cunningham, an art teacher at the Colorado Center for the Blind, creates tactile art that is also visually appealing. She explains that tactile art is “artwork that can be understood through touch. Even though it might look pretty good, too.” This multi-sensory approach to art informed the exhibition that inspired this essay.

The “Ways of Seeing” exhibition was designed to be accessible to both blind and sighted audiences. Artists were invited to create new work that could be “seen” through all of our five senses: touch, sight, hearing, taste, and smell. For example, art works displayed included tactile paintings made with acrylic on canvas, ceramic sculpture, wood carving, and various works comprised of mixed media. This enabled visitors to engage the art in an uncommon way: through touch. 

I served on the organizing team for this innovative exhibition, and we hoped that everyone would touch the art, regardless of their visual acuity. However, this was not the case. On opening night, most visitors were sighted. I noticed striking differences in their approach to the art when compared to that of sighted children and blind adults. Some sighted adults asked our permission to touch the art. Visitors who were blind, along with sighted children, confidently touched the artwork.

The children enjoyed playing with elements of a free-standing mixed media installation at the center of the gallery. This work, “Exquisite Corpse”, by Cindy Cheng and Del Hardin Hoyle, is a “continuous collage of material textures” that is constructed with many different items including clothing hanging on a rod, two house plants, and an architectural model. The installation responded to the touch of visitors by producing different sound effects. For instance, the plants were wired to synthesizers that triggered on contact. A speaker below the architectural model amplified the sounds of fingers moving over it. Visitors could create louder sounds, audible throughout the gallery, by rolling marbles on the streets of the model or banging the artwork with tuning forks that were placed in slots drilled into the wooden top of the installation.

We had promoted the tactile characteristics of the exhibition at local meetings of the National Federation of the Blind and on social media in the hopes that visitors would know that they could touch the art. I noticed two blind friends who moved purposefully around the gallery exploring the art with their hands and reading the Braille labels posted next to each piece. Their careful and deliberate tactile exploration was a behavior repeated by blind people at other events.

Although I did not ask the blind visitors what they were perceiving, I can explain my own process of interacting with the art. When I first encounter an object, I make a series of rapid observations, classifying its characteristics in binary terms: hard or soft, warm or cold, heavy or light etc. Then, for artwork, I determine if the object is in two or three dimensions, for example, a flat painting or a 3-D sculpture. Then I explore the object more systematically, running my hand across it to find its edges and judge its size. I notice any changes in material or texture or shape. If my time and interest permit, I may ask a sighted friend about its color or other visual characteristics, and that information supplements my mental picture of the work.

Since I had proofread the artists statements prior to the exhibition opening, I knew the material composition and subject matter of each artwork before I touched it. Even so, each piece came to life for me in a very intuitive way. I could imagine the large tree from which a bowl was carved because I noticed the size of the bowl and I felt the alternating rough and smooth textured sections. I found that it was heavier than I had anticipated based on my reading of the description.

Don’t touch!

Some sighted adults were hesitant, and they asked our permission to touch the objects. One said he had to remind himself that touching was okay. When I shared these observations with the organizing team, one member said that this shows “how ingrained not touching art is in our culture, and how difficult it is to change that even when art is created to be touched”.

Unfortunately, our observations about people refraining from touching art are not unique to the visitors to our exhibition. In fact, Cheng and Hardin Hoyle referenced this reluctance in their artist statement for Exquisite Corpse. “We take sight as a given and vision is the access point for the work’s substance. Work is looked at, appreciated from a distance, one’s hands in the pockets or clasped politely in front or behind the body.”

Furthermore, D’Evie and Kleege document a similar reluctance to touch objects in a tactile art exhibit at the KADIST Art Foundation in San Francisco. They described how sighted visitors touched the art as “cursory”, “tentative”, and “imperceptible.”

The perceived cultural prohibition against touching objects 

Constance Classen (2005) has shown that the prohibition against touching objects on display is a relatively recent phenomenon dating to the 19th century. During the 17th and 18th centuries, museum curators encouraged visitors to handle objects because tours of collections were modelled on visits to European historic houses. Invited guests were encouraged to handle objects in these private collections, just as they were expected to eat and drink with their hosts. Most objects were not stored under glass; rather, they were placed in cabinet drawers from which they could be lifted out and examined.

When museums became public institutions, the ability to touch objects on display was restricted. This cultural shift reflected the views of 19th-century European middle and upper classes that associated touch with dirt, germs, and disease (Stallybrass and White 2005:290). Since light was equated with sanitation, the sense of sight was superior and the sense of touch was labeled as primitive.

In this worldview, museums were viewed as having a “civilizing and educational effect on the general public” (Classen 2005:282), objects were to be viewed at a distance. The physical environment of the museum was altered to reflect these beliefs. Large exhibits were placed behind railings, and small objects were put into well-lit display cases.

A restricted tactile environment is ableist

Deborah Kent, a children’s book author who is also blind, laments the lack of opportunities for tactile exploration at modern museums. For her, “a visit to a museum is a series of encounters with velvet ropes, wooden barricades, ever-vigilant security guards, automatic alarm systems, and implacable sheets of glass.” These security measures, meant to protect objects, are simultaneously access barriers for people who are blind.

When everyone is forbidden to touch objects, special arrangements need to be made for tactile access. Usually, access is granted only at pre-determined times when selected museum staff or volunteers are available to offer touch tours allowing visitors “to explore different objects—either real or replicas—through touch” (Braden 2016). Results of a recent survey indicate that some people value touch tours, but others do not seek out these experiences because they do not wish to plan their museum visits weeks in advance.

The traditional museum “touch tour” meets baseline accessibility requirements with its controlled access that segregates visitors based on their visual acuity. Alternatively, an inclusive museum practice would incorporate touchable objects into all exhibits creating inclusive experiences for integrated groups of sighted and blind visitors.

Touch in the time of a pandemic

I wrote a draft of this essay before the coronavirus pandemic. Now, touching anything is considered a risky activity fraught with fears of contamination. For example, Drs. Sam Dooley and Tom Frieden advocate: “Avoid touching commonly touched surfaces or objects with your bare hands, do not touch your face without washing your hands first if they might be contaminated, and wash your hands every time you think you might have touched someone or something that might be contaminated.” 

Even the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is hedging their bets about the possibility of spreading Covid-19 by touching objects. Their Frequently Asked Questions page states, “It may be possible that people can get Covid-19 by touching a surface or object that has the virus on it and then touching their own mouth, nose, or possibly their eyes, but this is not thought to be the main way the virus spreads.”

It is not surprising that cultural norms emerging in the Covid-19 era preference information-gathering via the sense of sight instead of the sense of touch because visual examination of objects can occur at a physical distance while tactile exploration requires proximity.

The emerging norms against touching objects are expressed in all aspects of daily life, including museum visits. As of this writing, many museums remain closed, and institutions that are open have restricted public access to hands-on exhibits.

The need to reduce disease transmission is understandable, but some new procedures will disproportionately affect visitors who are blind. For instance, removing hands-on exhibits eliminates the opportunity for blind people to independently explore exhibits. In a touchless museum, our museum experiences would be filtered through the verbal descriptions of sighted companions or museum personnel.

I have had conversations with tactile artists about ways to adapt to new norms in the Covid-19 era. Collectively, we have come up with several solutions that might allow people to safely handle objects in an exhibit: 

– Proper hand hygiene can be encouraged by providing hand sanitizer or wipes in a standard location within the physical exhibit space.

– Disposable gloves may be worn to protect people and objects.

– Materials that are easily clean can be chosen as touchable objects.

– Museum visitors could be provided with tactile handouts that they can touch and then take them when they leave the exhibit.

Implementing our proposed solutions, either singly or together, may reassure people about their safety when touching objects in museum exhibits. We are advocating for these options and other possibilities that allow for tactile access.

In summary, the coronavirus adds a layer of complexity to the perceived cultural prohibition against touching objects. We understand that precautions are necessary to minimize the spread of disease, but we fear that new norms could be implemented in an ableist way. Blind people and our allies will need to increase our efforts to re-shape the post pandemic world in a way that allows us to gather information through the sense of touch. This work is important, not only to ensure tactile access for blind people, but also to safeguard the opportunity for everyone to benefit from multi-sensory experiences.

References

Braden, C. (2016) Welcoming All Visitors: Museums, Accessibility, and Visitors with Disabilities. University of Michigan, Working Papers in Museum Studies: Number 12, Ann Arbor.

Classen, C. (2005). Touch in the Museum, in The Book of Touch, C. Classen ed. PP. 275-286, Berg, New York, NY.

Stallybrass, P. and A. White. (2005) Bourgeois Perception: The Gaze and the Contaminating Touch,” in The Book of Touch, C. Classen ed. PP. 290-292, Berg, New York, NY.

By Ruth Lozner
Ruth Lozner received a BFA from Carnegie-Mellon University, and a MFA from American University. She has held faculty positions at the University of Maryland, College Park, Parsons School of Design, New York, and the University of the Arts, Philadelphia. She currently holds the titles of Professor Emerita from the University of Maryland, College Park and Fellow of the Royal Society of the Arts, UK. ruthloznerart.com

Every human has differing abilities in both mind and bodyHow good is your hearing? Your vision? Your athletic ability? Or your ability to express feelings or ideas?

We all possess unique strengths and challenges. This is the wonderful diversity and commonality of humankind. While all of us must constantly adapt according to our changing set of abilities, there are some people who must navigate through their lives with profound challenges. One of my challenges is my hearing.

Take a minute to listen to everything around you while you read this essay. Listen. Very. Carefully. What are you able to hear? The trees rustling outdoors? The tea kettle whistling on the stove? The cat meowing? The television on somewhere in the house? Footsteps of someone walking in the room or someone speaking on the phone? Someone knocking at the front door? I am able to hear none of those sounds… without hearing aids. Yet, I am enormously fortunate that my hearing loss can be mitigated with technology. I operate between two worlds: one where I hear very little (without the aid of assistive devices) and one where I can hear quite a lot (with hearing aids).

Have you ever thought about how important sound is to you? How a song can evoke a certain emotion and transport you in wonderful ways; how soothing it is to hear the bubbling of a stream or the joyous peals of laughter. Sound provides a deep richness that is integral to daily life. Think about what living in silence might be like. Maybe you take your senses for granted. I do not.

My hearing loss developed over time. The changes were so subtle that I had unconsciously adjusted to an audibly compromised world. One day when I was about 30 years old, I crossed the street right in front of a moving car! Thankfully, the driver stopped inches away from me. The driver got out of his car and started shouting at me, “Didn’t you see me? Didn’t you hear my horn blaring? Didn’t you hear my brakes screech to a halt?” “No, I suppose I was distracted and was looking the other way,” I said, guiltily. I was shocked that I hadn’t heard a thing! The realization that I had a quite significant hearing loss was dramatically proven in that instant. How potentially dangerous, how frightening! What else had I not heard all these years? What had I missed or misunderstood in conversations? How upsetting!

A visit to an ENT doctor yielded a diagnosis of “otosclerosis”, a degenerative disease that renders the tiny middle ear bones immobile and unable to carry the requisite sound vibrations to the inner ear. I did indeed have a “severe hearing loss.” Over time the disease has continued its worsening conductive bilateral progress. For now, I am helped considerably by wearing hearing aids that amplify the sound loud enough to vibrate those rigid bones. The continuation of the disease exacerbated by the inevitable loss due to aging might push my hearing to total loss. I am comforted by the fact that the Cochlear Implant has been invented and will be continually improved, and that I might always be able to hear external sounds.

What situations have you been in where hearing and understanding has been difficult: trying to hear a conversation in a noisy restaurant or rock concert? Attending a lecture and trying to hear the comments and questions from the large audience? Being in a classroom where someone is at the blackboard is talking with their back turned? Or maybe in a meeting where the participants are in a lively discussion speaking over one another? Even people with normal hearing have difficulty in situations such as those—now think how hard it is for people whose hearing is distorted, diminished or absent. Indeed, this is the beginning of empathy.

As we age, every one of us will find ourselves disabled in some way to some degree, whether it is temporarily, progressively or permanently. It is important to remember that there is a range of any disability from slight to extreme: from a sprained ankle to paraplegia; from near-sightedness to blindness; from hard-of-hearing to Deaf. The great majority of the population will experience some degree of hearing loss in their lifetimes. While there is noticeable deterioration in hearing in most adults who are 60 years and older, younger adults also report hearing loss due to noise and high-volume exposure from the use of earbuds, music venues or loud working conditions.

Hearing impairment can have a significant detrimental effect in the workplace, school, or home. An invisible disability, hearing loss often goes unrecognized as an impediment to communication and comprehension. When recognized, the necessary accommodations require assertive advocacy and persistence. The 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) that addressed the widespread lack of access and blatant discrimination on the basis of abilities in the workplace and public space was immensely significant. In fact, the classroom in which I taught at the University of Maryland was retrofitted to meet ADA requirements. Like most classrooms in a 1970s building, the surfaces were all hard: cinderblock or plaster walls, concrete floors, ceilings without baffles. This kind of environment produces the worst kind of acoustics. Even the slightest sounds reverberate making it nearly impossible to clearly hear individual voices. It was impossible for me to effectively teach in that space before the appropriate fixes were made of a baffled ceiling, sound-absorbing walls, and better lighting to be able to read lips and other visual cues. Now every student and instructor, no matter what degree of hearing they have, enjoy better communication in that room because of the improvements.

The advent of the Smartphone has greatly improved communication for the hearing impaired. I am able to hear far better through a phone via Bluetooth technology coupled with my hearing aids. Texting, initially designed for the deaf community who could not utilize a solely auditory device, has become a ubiquitous and beloved form of communication for me and for almost everyone. We are fortunate to be living in a time of rapid technological advancements in assistive devices as well as innovative medical breakthroughs that address a myriad of conditions. When we consider design for all abilities we all benefit. The talented students that designed this exhibit are proving that point!

It may come as a surprise to you, that I am grateful for my hearing loss. I get to experience the world in a particular way that gives me a unique perspective. Because my hearing is so diminished, my visual cortex must come into play in a more enhanced way. I have become much more attuned to a wider visual spectrum—facial expressions and nuances, and body language, as well as a heightened visual awareness of my surrounding physical environment.

I believe I have become a better graphic design teacher and artist because of those very sensitivities. Anyone with physical or cognitive challenges must develop problem-solving strategies to navigate and cope in a mainstream world. Those compensatory strategies take inventiveness and creativity—valuable skills to hone for an artist and a designer. My teaching often includes an emphasis on Universal Design (UD). It is a personal crusade to educate future designers in ways that are inclusive and empathetic, ways that will help make our world a better place. UD is a human-centered approach to the design of products and environments that increases the potential for a better quality of life for the widest range of individuals, regardless of age, size, culture, ability or disability. Simply put, it is a design process that aims to enable and empower the broad diversity found in all populations. I have become more empathetic and sensitive to the needs of people with differing abilities and more assertive as an advocate for creative, responsive and inclusive solutions to challenging issues and circumstances.

Let us all pledge to acknowledge and embrace our differences as well as our similarities, no matter what form they take. Those variations and differences are what makes us human. Let us not be complacent about mainstream practices but shift our cultural understanding of ability to build a more inclusive world. It will be a kinder, more compassionate, and more tolerant global community.

We will all benefit.

By Dr. Audra Buck-Coleman and Dr. Cheryl Fogle-Hatch

Emergencies tend to make vulnerable populations more so. Those with scarce resources are less able to afford protections, precautions and safeguards. The current pandemic is no exception. Covid-19 has amplified and compounded inequity and oppression for many including those with disabilities. The mission of Redefine/ABLE becomes more urgent given the magnitude of the pandemic as well as that approximately 20 percent of the U.S. population has a disability.

“Ableism” is a term used to describe the discrimination against those with disabilities. As with the other “isms” such as racism, sexism, and ageism, ableism is a long-standing form of discrimination that stems from pejorative ideas about others’ identities. Universal design is an approach to creating systems, spaces and objects that meet the needs of all people. People with disabilities have been negatively impacted by Covid-19 due to discriminatory responses and lack of universal design—both before and during the pandemic.

The novel coronavirus has highlighted and magnified the prejudice against those with disabilities. Some responses to the pandemic intentionally devalue people with disabilities, and other responses simply don’t include them. Here are some examples:

• When schools closed their physical building and transitioned their curriculum to online learning, Education Secretary Betsy DeVos considered suspending the accommodations required by the Disabilities Education Act. Although numerous organizations including the National Urban League and The Education Trust argued against these measures, others including The School Superintendents Association, disagreed. Their argument was that since educators were struggling to provide curriculum to mainstream students, they should not have to limit those efforts to educate those with disabilities. Ultimately DeVos decided against such waivers, but the mere possibility gave credence to the ableist idea that students with disabilities are less worthy of the fundamental right of an education.
• Similarly, others expressed that the economy should take priority over those who were “unproductive” to society. The sacrifices people across the world were being asked to make were not warranted to ensure the livelihood of the elderly and disabled. Similar arguments are that we should let “herd immunity” run its course, eliminating those who aren’t the fittest and strongest, those who are not disabled. Those with disabilities do not produce nor earn as much as others, and thus their human value is falsely deemed less valuable as well. These ideas have been given so much credence that others are having to contradict them. 
• Along with this came proposed limitations for health care for the sick. Hospitals across the country including one in Washington state considered rationing care to those with compromised immunity and other disabilities. Despite that healthcare workers have taken an oath to treat all patients, the sentiment was put forth that the health of the more abled is more important than the health of the disabled.
• Some countries including Chile have proposed creating a special status for those with coronavirus antibodies, enabling those with a lower risk for the virus to have fewer quarantine restrictions. While the notion would create more freedom for some, it would also create more legal restrictions for those without the antibodies, creating another form of disability.
• A March coronavirus-related stimulus bill, led by Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.), included a provision to deny funding to nonprofits that receive Medicare. This would have kept people with disabilities from receiving their full benefits. In the United States, more than 25% of the people living below the poverty line are disabled. Losing medical coverage would put them at an even greater disadvantage. These efforts are deliberately leaving some of our most vulnerable populations without the support they so desperately need.
• An April survey found that 48 out of 50 state-launched coronavirus websites were difficult or unusable to those with low or no vision. This lack of universal design meant that those with visual disabilities were unable to access up-to-date Covid-19 statistics, helpline numbers and best practice infographics and other visuals about how to prevent contracting the virus. Some were also unable to complete virus-related benefit applications or find testing sites. The inaccessibility of the websites of the government and others was well documented before the pandemic and it is even more critical now.
• Due to limited on-site academic testing during the pandemic, the College Board instituted only a digital-format for the advanced placement (AP) exams. The test is required for students to receive college credit or advanced placement standing for high school coursework. Successful test-takers can save money on college tuition, but the digital format was inaccessible for those with vision disabilities. It was not until five high school students and the National Federation of the Blind filed civil rights complaints that the College Board reversed their refusal to provide accessibility accommodations including hard-copy Braille tests or tactile graphics for the test.
• The Centers For Disease Control and Prevention recommends that people wear face coverings in public spaces to prevent the spread of Covid-19. Although these masks create a protective barrier from the disease, they also create an impediment for those with disabilities. The lack of universal design for transparent-yet-protective masks makes it difficult if not impossible for the Deaf and hard of hearing to read lips and facial expressions. Further, the behind-the-ear straps on the masks and face shields cause difficulties for people using hearing aids. Additionally some people with autism cannot tolerate the masks (and other things) touching their face.
• One of the most pressing questions for k-12 and higher education administrators is if and how to return to in-person learning this fall. In May more than half of the nation’s university presidents said they were choosing to reopen their campuses for the fall term. University of Notre Dame President Father John I. Jenkins called it a “moral question,” and said his campus would be open as has Purdue University President Mitch Daniels. Daniels described not opening in the fall as an “unacceptable breach of duty” and cited the high survival rate of the stereotypical college age student. His statement fails to recognize that even those 15-24 years old can have higher risk factors for Covid-19 according to the CDC, let alone faculty, staff and other campus workers. These college presidents assume their populations are all abled and healthy. Further, Jenkins’ ableist attitudes ring clear: This leader of a pro-life institution finds the “lethal risks” of reopening his campus to be worth it “for the good of society.” College presidents such as these ignore the fact that college-age students as well as other members of their campus communities can have disabilities that make them more susceptible to Covid-19 and that their lives are still valuable.

The needs of the disabled were not prioritized enough before the novel coronavirus unleashed, and the instances above show how too often they are even less of a priority now. And although this list is not exhaustive, it demonstrates how far we have to go in terms of perpetuating respectful, non-discriminatory values and cultural norms regarding those with disabilities.

Further, we would be remiss if we failed to acknowledge how the coronavirus has amplified and compounded the inequality and oppression for other minority groups as well, including Asians and Asian Americans, Blacks, Latinos, immigrants and low-income populations. The needs and rights of these populations are just as critical but will have to be addressed elsewhere.

Finally, those with minority identities and their challenges are not mutually exclusive, of course, and the intersectionality of discrimination and oppression against these populations is a social disease our society must battle in addition to the biological one getting so much attention today.

Note: Our thanks to Robin Marquis for their feedback on an earlier draft of this publication.

Dr. Audra Buck-Coleman is an Associate Professor of Graphic Design at University of Maryland, College Park Associate Professor and served as the Redefine/ABLE Project Director. 

Dr. Cheryl Fogle-Hatch is the founder of MuseumSenses, a Baltimore-based advocacy studio that researches and develops multisensory experiences for galleries, museums and other cultural organizations. She and others from the disabilities community collaborated with Buck-Coleman’s design students to create Redefine/ABLE: Challenging Inaccessibility.

By Kevin Bacon and Dr. Lara Perry

The United Kingdom is richly provisioned with museums. According to its national Museums Association, there are 1800 accredited museums and probably around 2500 museums altogether in the four geographically small, but densely populated countries that make up the U.K. Ranging from single rooms of local history managed by small voluntary associations to large national organizations with multiple sites such as the Victoria and Albert Museum or Tate, museums are a significant part of the cultural, educational, social and intellectual life of villages, towns, and cities across the United Kingdom. As public services, museums of all sizes and aims are regulated by the U.K. Equality Act of 2010, which synthesized equalities legislation relating to a wide range of what are termed “protected characteristics” under one umbrella legislation. The Equality Act broadly adopts the social model of disability and enshrines the legal obligation to make “reasonable adjustments to remove barriers for disabled people” so that they may enjoy the services of museums and other public on the comparable terms as they are offered to the able-bodied.  The requirements of the U.K.’s Equality Act are less rigorous than the expectations outlined by Universal Design or its European Equivalent, Design for All, but 10 years on from its passage into law the impact on museums and their diverse audiences is being increasingly felt.

Museums in the U.K. are in most cases supported primarily or partly by money distributed via the taxation system, and since the 1980s, the public funding agencies who are responsible for allocating resources have prioritized access, engagement, and participation in cultural organizations in their awarding processes. Favouring attendance figures over collections care and development has in some cases been a significant priority shift for U.K. museums, but has also fostered a culture of museum working that has expanded the attention given to visitors in many different directions. Most museums of significant size have an education department or provision which develops programming that relates to formal and informal education for children and adults. Many of these departments are of 20 or more years standing; more recently young adults (18-25) are the subject of many special provisions such as advantageous membership rates and development councils; and “late” events that combine museum visits with informal socializing are increasingly offered in national and regionally focussed institutions. Museums are making huge efforts to provide programmes and activities that attract and engage socially diverse audiences, including focussing on minoritized groups like Afro-Caribbean, Asian, and LGBTQIA+ histories and culture. This shift in focus has been strongly encouraged by funding agencies: Arts Council England, for example, requires the museums it funds as part of its National Portfolio Organisation programme to demonstrate how they contribute to its Creative Case for Diversity programme. In large part these measures are succeeding: in February 2020 Lara paid a Saturday visit to Birmingham, England’s second-largest city which has a racially diverse population and found the city museum, its exceptional library and its contemporary art centre teeming with visitors enjoying the facilities and engaging with the collections and programmes. Museums are a vibrant feature of contemporary civic life in the United Kingdom.

Providing access and facilities for visitors with disabilities is part of this growth in what Peter Samis and Mimi Michaelson (2017) termed the “visitor centered-museum.” Some of the specific challenges in evolving this museum provision in the UK relate to issues of physical accessibility in sites that are historic buildings and may be far removed from accessible transport. The U.K. has a well-preserved architectural history that is an essential element of its heritage provision for residents and for tourists. The public (government) body Historic England is responsible for safeguarding the nation’s built environment and runs a programme of “listing” buildings that prevent those of special architectural interest from being significantly altered; all buildings built before 1700 and most built before 1850 are “listed” which means that very strict regulations are placed on their alteration, from structural and material integrity to matters which may seem minor such as paint colour. Whether formally “listed” or not, many U.K. organizations value historic buildings, and the historic fabric of a building is perceived to be part of the cultural experience of heritage and museums. A large number of the country’s museums were built in the nineteenth century, many before electricity became widely available – the “lift” or elevator which is so integral to most accessible buildings had not yet been imagined; nor had the society which would demand that institutions of scholarship and learning be made accessible to those with physical disabilities. Historic England’s guidance on these matters suggests that “If there are any conflicts between the interests of access and conservation, it may be possible to reconcile these through creative and sensitive design,” and offers numerous examples of sensitively and sensibly designed features that enhance the accessibility of historic buildings by using well-planned signage, harmonized materials, and staff training to improve physical access. But the Equalities Act also allows that a reasonable adjustment may be one that allows a visitor to avoid an aspect of a building or site for which access is a challenge; in the U.K. context, universal design will not be retrofitted.

Accessibility of course extends far beyond the question of physical access, and more holistic approaches to accessibility are currently being developed in the sector. A recent project conducted in partnership between the Wellcome Collection — a free museum and library in London that concerns itself with thinking about health – and the University of Leicester Research Centre for Museums and Galleries drew on around twenty years of research on the representation of difference and disability in museums. The project culminated in a series of exhibition projects at the Wellcome Collection including a permanent display, “Being Human,” but also a code of practice for “An ethical approach to interpreting disability and difference.” This primarily concerns the representation of persons with disabilities and differences in museums that foster “empathy, respect, understanding, and dignity.” Undertaking to represent people with disabilities in more sensitive and ethical ways is part of a wider strategy that addresses inclusivity of diverse audiences, partly through adaptations for sensory impairments like guided visits, access tours including audio tours, and enhanced visual access, including design that responds to the needs of neurodiverse users. One tactic some museums have adopted to meet the challenge of improving access is to set up and support access to advisory groups. These groups usually made up of non-museum professionals with a variety of disabilities, often start out as user testing groups. But if support for the group is maintained, the relationship between an advisory group and a museum can evolve so that they influence programming, collecting, and even, arguably, becoming a component of the museum’s governance structure. Civic museums, which are well placed to develop longer-term relationships with local communities, are particularly successful in running these advisory groups: long-standing examples include the Royal Pavilion & Museums in Brighton & Hove, the Black Country Living Museum in Dudley, and the Horniman Museum in London, which has been running its advisory group since 2007 and is a particularly well-documented example.

Such initiatives are the result of ongoing work that is being undertaken in response to the Equalities Act and the social model of disability that underpins it.  A more recent development in the U.K. museums sector and accessibility is the drive to recognize the ways that museums can promote “well-being,” which is a measure of general health that includes social and emotional inclusion. While not a matter of accessibility in the usual sense, it is certainly a matter of inclusivity and often focuses on the capacity of museums to support users with, specifically, social impairments relating to memory loss and with other conditions such as anxiety that are normally diagnosed in relation to mental health. This work is being led by the Culture, Health and Well-Being Alliance which was formed in 2018 from a merger of a large number of organizations representing a range of museums, cultural organizations, and public health agencies. The aim of the alliance is to support the arts and museums for “expressive, restorative, educational and therapeutic processes” that support the delivery of the U.K.’s National Health Service. As the challenges of maintaining good mental health for individuals of all ages come to the fore this decade, the important role of museums’ contribution to maintaining socially healthy communities, including ones which are inclusive of wide ranges of difference and diversity, will continue to be important and dynamic considerations for museum practitioners.

Are these needs best met by existing museum practices or the use of new technologies? The increased use of digital technology by museums has presented new opportunities and challenges for access. Like other museums across the world, U.K. museums often use mobile technology to deliver accessible content to visitors, such as the Roald Dahl Museum’s award-winning Signly App, which provides British Sign Language commentary on key exhibits. Some museums have also used digital technology to facilitate an entirely new offer to those with disabilities, such as the National Museums Liverpool’s House of Memories app which is designed to support those caring for people with dementia. The UK government has played a key role in promoting digital accessibility: in 2018 it published new guidelines that all public sector museums are required to follow and are recommended by the National Lottery Heritage Fund for those applying for funding. The Jodi Awards, set up by the Museums Computer Group in 2002, has highlighted best practices for digital accessibility in museums for almost two decades. 

The Covid-19 Pandemic of 2020, whose transformative effects are in place as we complete this text, has created both an opportunity, and a burden, on museums to work with audiences via digital platforms when most museum activities have been suspended in an effort to foster physical well-being in the midst of a public health crisis. The digital offer of museums –often perceived as a pathway to, or substitute for, engagement with the primary collections work of the museum – has suddenly been foregrounded. Major professional organizations such as the International Council of Museums and the American Association of Museums have created guidance for museums on the modes and objectives of digital engagement, and some really creative practice and startling successes have emerged from what might have been a period of total inactivity. It is wholly in keeping with our concerns and investigations that we take advantage of this digital moment in museums to engage in the online delivery of the Redefine/ABLE project. It is testimony to the resilience and ambition of museums that they continue to work with their communities in this context, and we are learning a great deal by working with the University of Maryland, College Park, and The Peale to help develop and explore the impact of digital work on museum accessibility

Kevin Bacon is Digital Manager at The Royal Pavilion and Museums, Brighton & Hove; in Brighton, U.K. Dr. Lara Perry is Deputy Head, School of Humanities at the University of Brighton; U.K.