Added: Parnell Mulhall - Date: 16.09.2021 23:42 - Views: 42404 - Clicks: 8645
And big, heartfelt congrats your way, too—this year has been such a feast for disability publications. I am thrilled to see it; I was looking in vain for these kinds of readily visible, popular resources a dozen years ago. And yes, pandemic publishing is weird, for sure.
I was the new mother, at that time, of the eldest of my three children, Graham, who has Down syndrome. I was also a grad school dropout, trying to figure out the mix of scholarship and artmaking that I wanted to do. Ultimately, Abler became a seeding ground for me to observe and write my way into a way of working, now as a professor at an engineering school.
In a decade of doing research and collaborations in this field, I found myself in conversation with and reading about all kinds of ideas in the history of de that collided in fascinating ways with the rich scholarship and activism in disability studies. Looking for my black Hendron seeking want it to be for the general nonfiction reader, a gateway book that introduces some of the complexities in both de and disability as intellectual and creative traditions that are at work in living color everywhere in the built environment. Its chapters are arranged to start with the body—the chapter called Limb—and to expand outward from there, to furniture, architecture, urban planning, and finally to the chapter called Clock, which introduces folks to ideas about crip time and human worth in our clock-driven, industry-led world.
The book is intended as a bridge-building text, a work of translation—really an introductory primer that can be used to dig much deeper, via the notes and citations, into all the books that have nourished me so much. And that that misfit wisdom, as articulated by disabled people, is an intellectual tradition on offer to the wider culture. De is one of the most vivid, resonant ways those ideas show up in our everyday lives. And the rest of the book then shows just how mutable the built world must be for disabled people, which is where the creative urgency of adaptation is born.
This is a big theme of my book—trying to get to some of the deeper stories about access that really start with and seek out better questions instead of framing disabled bodies merely as problems. Which kinds of bodies have which kinds of wishes, and habits, and families, and jobs, and yes, needs? And where is the role of de and technology in the ecology of experience, if any? And most importantly: what is the ground of human worth? And how do you know?
STEM-driven institution and to the larger not so wonderful! STEM-obsessed educational landscape. So many! My book chronicles the seeds of good ideas in laboratories but also in living rooms: sometimes an idea that gets reproduced en masse, and sometimes a bespoke de for one. Economies of scale are useful, of course, for keeping things like ergonomic kitchen tools in an affordable price range and easily distributed.
And I also think we all need to recover a much bigger and more creative definition of technology itself: high-tech and low-tech, de-for-one and digital fabrication, smart devices and ordinary furniture. Strep tests for kids! Sleep apnea tests for kids! Portable oxygen for kids! So much pediatric biomedical equipment is unbelievably uncomfortable and therefore anxiety-producing for young people especially, and there could be much more user-centered de attention brought to the experience of medical testing in general.
Love you people! An inclined plane is a simple machine in classical mechanics, alongside the lever, wheel-and-axle, screw, pulley, and other objects that are the simplest possible ways to multiply force. In plain terms, a ramp, just by its shape, alters the required effort you have to put in to raise or lower something. The ramp has also been crucial to the building of the world, as in the construction of the great pyramids.
Wheelchair access is political physics: an invisible equation Looking for my black Hendron seeking mechanics that makes entry into public space possible, and therefore entry into the public sphere. I have a longstanding project on ramps that started as a de for wheelchair use and skateboarding in the built environment, and I had the great joy of working with Alice Sheppard and Kinetic Light on a couple of ramp des for wheelchair dancing on stage.
Thank goodness the disability community is as connected and vocal as it is on this matter. I would ask nondisabled people, if they want to become real allies, to start with the wonder of their own bodies, which are no more and no less than needful, interdependent, mega-organ houses. We are each adaptive and mysterious in all our embodied forms, and always changing. I want to voice my full and enthusiastic support for ownvoices and first-person disability justice initiatives.
I see where it comes from—there is indeed a long ugly history of nondisabled parents of disabled people overstepping, making their own stories primary. But if disability theory means what it says—that its critique knocks Looking for my black Hendron seeking the very foundational ideas of individualism and productivity, refiguring human dignity in a life with care—well, I think we have more in common than not.
As Adrienne Maree Brown says, it takes a lot of voices to align a movement. Sara Hendren is an artist, de researcher, and writer who teaches de for disability at Olin College of Engineering. How We Meet the Built Worldcomes out on August 18—a look at the deep creativity and urgency found where disability meets de, with wisdom and ideas for building a better world for all of us. She lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts with her husband and children.
AccessibilityadaptationbodiesBuilt EnvironmentcoronavirusCrip BodiesCrip CultureDeDisability StudiesDisabled bodiesDisabled deersEngineeringinnovationPublic spacesteachingtechnology. The book jacket is chartreuse with the title and author name in black, and the subtitle in lighter yellow. The words bleed off the edges of the front surface, posing the social model of disability right from its very cover: Is the type too big, or is the book too small?
Congratulations on your new book! How are you preparing for your book launch on August 18, in the midst of the pandemic? How did you become interested in de, art, technology, and accessibility? How We Meet the Built World and what are some central ideas you want to share with the readers?
Disabled people are constantly cripping objects to fit their needs. What are some notable examples of innovation steeped in disabled wisdom you documented in your book? One of my pet peeves is that collaboration between deers and disabled people always p these are two mutually exclusive groups—one provides lived experience while the other uses their technical expertise to create an actual product. What needs to change to 1 get more disabled people into de and 2 reimagine partnerships that are fair and transparent? What is one popular everyday object that is long overdue for a re-imagining?
I know you love a good inclined plane aka a ramp. What are some changes to the built environment you anticipate post-pandemic that may increase or worsen access in public spaces? Other than pre-ordering your bookhow can people support your work? ABOUT Sara Hendren, a white middle aged woman with brown hair and brown eyes, sits in front of a weathered wood fence, wearing an olive linen jacket. Like this: Like Loading Alice Wong View All. post: …felt half seen.
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