Author: rachael

Introducing the Mycelial Model of Self-Advocacy – Louie Fermor

Pinelitter Gingertail mushrooms
Pinelitter Gingertail mushrooms

In the natural world, life begets decay and decay makes room for more life. Even though we may think of fungi as odd, ugly, or repulsive, and perhaps as an omen of death, they are also an omen of life and of a healthy ecosystem moving through its eternal cycles. The presence of mycelial networks and fungi is a good sign: it indicates that one part of the process is working and therefore so are the others. 

In a similar way, the inclusion of Deaf, disabled, Mad and neurodivergent people is also an indicator of a healthy society— one that can infrastructurally support a broad understanding of human diversity, community care, and provide high standards of living for all its members. 

Last autumn I wrote an essay about my experience attending Sync Alberta 2024. At the time, I was also in Mînî hrpa (Banff, Canada) attending a writer’s residency at the Banff Centre for the Arts and Creativity. Participants of Sync Alberta were encouraged to create metaphors for our leadership styles. I chose mushrooms. Later, for my essay, I described the experience of intentionally walking through the alpine forests of the Banff Centre’s campus, some of the mushrooms I found there, and the inspiration I drew from them. The Mycelial Model of Self-Advocacy builds upon that original text: how ‘odd’ fungi can be a metaphor for the embraced failure and stubborn thriving of disability culture. The Mycelial Model can be a way to shift ourselves into that alternative mindset, so that the constant self-advocacy we must do as D/deaf and disabled creatives, curators, and leaders can be sustainable. 

The Mycelial Model for Self-Advocacy

  • Off-to-the-side thriving
  • Network-based
  • Release spores
  • Respect cycles

OFF-TO-THE-SIDE THRIVING

As I wrote in my last essay for Sync, “You may not want to pay attention to the mushroom, may not even know it’s there. That doesn’t matter. Whether we give permission to it or not, fungi will grow and transform on its own and make a home for itself anyways […] The mushroom’s metaphor for disabled stubbornness— the will to thrive, despite— is obvious”.

This off-to-the-side mindset is the antidote to professional people-pleasing, a quality many disabled arts professionals have picked up along the way. When you get so few opportunities, you’re conscious of scaring away the few you do get. So, you people-please: you accept the token or meagre opportunities, hoping they’ll think of you next time.

What if we happily thrived in the margins we’ve been sent to, instead? Is that even possible? Aren’t we already? While waiting for galleries, governments, societies, companies etc. to catch up, let’s do what we do best and thrive ‘off to the side’. We dream of community, acceptance, recognition— until we get there, if ever, where are we now? Let’s recognize and create meaning here as well.

How can you change or update your workspace so that it not only accommodates your differences but shows respect for them? For example, as someone who experiences chronic fatigue, I need a couch in my studio. From the view on the couch, I can see thank-you cards, awards, and favourite paintings which all remind me of how proud I am of what I do. Taking time to rest and to reflect is exactly what gives my artwork and writing its thoughtful voice. I’m off to the side resting on the couch and it’s a good thing.

While waiting for galleries, governments, societies, companies etc. to catch up, let’s do what we do best and thrive ‘off to the side’.

NETWORK-BASED

Mycelium (my-seal-ee-um) is the name for the root structure and mycorrhizal (my-co-rye-zull)is the word for the network: the vast underground network of both fungal and plant roots that serves as a communication system and resource exchange between different species. Suzanne Simmard, a professor of forest ecology at University of British Columbia, completed field studies in the late ‘90’s which revealed that trees are connected to other neighbouring trees through mycorrhizal networks. She observed a Douglas fir infested by insects using the network to send chemical warnings to a ponderosa pine nearby, and the ponderosa later produced enzymes that would protect it against the same insects.

Be around other fungi. Go to online or in-person gatherings with other d/Deaf, disabled, Crip, Mad, and neurodivergent people. And, if you can, go to these more than able-bodied/neuro-typical gatherings. Grow there and look out one for another.

RELEASE SPORES

The point of flowers and fruiting bodies is to spread pollen and seeds, or in the case of fungi, to spread spores. There are a fascinating variety of ways they do this. Take the stinkhorn mushrooms, which emit odours that are foul to us— often compared to the scent of rotting meat— but are highly attractive to scavenger animals and insects, who will visit, curious about the smell, and carry some spores with them when they scurry or fly away.

Many types of common shelf fungi, which grow horizontally out the side of tall hardwood trees, use less dramatic methods, and simply drop thousands of spores onto the forest floor from their perches high above. Aided by wind and gravity, the tiny spores litter down and are carried off to other sections of the forest.

We can be inspired by this, and litter our life and work with small ‘spores’ of self-advocacy. There are courageous, heroic exclamations of self-advocacy like performances and protests, statements, and refusals… while these are necessary, they’re hard to do over and over. Instead, between these larger gestures, we can pace ourselves and routinely drop smaller ‘spores’ of self-advocacy.

Keep a link to an access reader in your email signature. This smaller gesture normalizes artists and professionals having access needs.

RESPECT CYCLES

In the original 2024 essay, I wrote, “… These small beings will die soon— gingertail [mushrooms] only last a day or two at most. I take a photo, tap my finger against one of the caps, and smile when it bounces gently under my touch… mushrooms are only the fruit of a much larger mycelial network we cannot see. They are only temporary beauties, like fruits on a tree.”

For me, part of a mushroom’s beauty is its transience. Like the passing day and night, the short-lived spring flower, or the red and ochres of autumn: these things are made more meaningful because of their passing nature. While the dramatic life and death of flowers and fruits are an essential period of the growth cycle, it’s the roots underneath that will last (there are mycelial networks in North America estimated to be over two thousand years old).

In the arts, a performance or the exhibition is like the fruiting body on the surface of advocacy efforts. Standards of care, respectful workspaces, and supported artists are the mycelial root system. We can’t put all our efforts into the showy ‘fruits’ and not have any time or energy for the roots; without healthy roots there aren’t fruit for very long.

Learn when to say “not right now”. Set boundaries around time and energy and respect the cycle of art and yourself. Importantly, figure out what those boundaries are before the projects start and not while under pressure and in the middle of it. Set goals for the ‘fruits’ of your labour alongside plans for sustaining the roots.

According to the 2023 Canadian Survey on Disability, 27% of Canadians have a disability that limits them in their daily activities[1]. That’s around 1 in 4. Poor representation and ableist infrastructures may make us feel we are alone in the world, but—and especially when we band together across disabilities— we’re actually in the company of many others.

Though we may start off as someone who walks through a forest or city unaware of the fungi growing around us, we can be taught how to see and find them. We can also, in a similar way, find our fellow spoonies, crazies and Crips. Until we get to the better representations and futures we dream of, let’s make today sustainable and meaningful. It’s today that we are designated as odd, monstrous, alien, or as failures in the eyes of a normative world. It’s today that we can be unapologetic about our unusual minds and bodies, and the different ways we thrive and create with them. Today we can ask, what would a mushroom do?


[1] Statistics Canada, released 1 December 2023

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The Speed of Trust: Alex Bulmer in conversation with Sarah Pickthall

Listen to the Podcast

That time-taking shows respect for the others in the room. It says that the leadership model isn’t always controlling every minute or filling every quarter of an hour with a purpose.

‘The Speed of Trust’ on our terms or Taking Our Time.

The Speed of Trust is a leadership idea coined, by Stephen Covey, that values trust building but still has more of an eye on productivity – and rapidity – rather than process.

Alex Bulmer is a Sync Alumnus and award-winning writer, director, actor and dramaturg. Amongst other things she is co-founder of Fire and Rescue Arts and was lead curator of CoMotion Festival 2022 (an international Deaf and Disability Arts festival produced by Harbourfront Centre).

In 2020 Alex took part in Sync’s first online intensive program in Ontario, Canada and shared with Sync her piece about the value of inefficiency. Her leadership metaphor – a vinyl record, chosen because it circles and spirals and takes time to reveal itself. She has since then worked extensively across Sync programs in Canada, UK and Australia.

In 2025, Alex Bulmer met with Sync’s Sarah Pickthall, whilst rehearsing to go on tour in the UK with a new adaptation of Daphne du Maurier’s Don’t Look Now, to shape resources for the new Sync Re-Ignite program. Together they revisited the notion of circling and gathering on our terms as disabled leaders and that a vital part of working collaboratively, curating and co-curating, is considering how we foster and facilitate the conditions that allow trust to develop so that we can bring our whole, authentic selves safely into a creative space.

Time is a malleable and complex notion; in a “one size fits one” society which prioritises efficiency and productivity, it is easy to mistrust slowness. Alex has always instinctively understood the value taking time to of circle around and compost ideas, allowing time to gather. She knows that this slow processing time is critically important to the creative process.

The very notion of a ‘leader’ implies to Alex a figure ahead of the pack, moving that bit faster: “I think it’s taken me a long time, and I am still learning, to trust the virtue of inefficiency, the value of gathering, and the discoveries gained from circling as opposed to going quickly from A to B.”

Rushing to outcomes can be so counterproductive. Experience has taught Alex to be confident in claiming the time to bring a group together: “I’m running a project in Toronto with 3 writers who are blind and we started with a meal together. You know that was in the grant – it’s in the grant that we will have two meals together! Because it’s absolutely part of the creative process. Having that meal together, before we start working as a group, (allows) things to unfold and unfurl.”

It is also a key part of building trust, committing to the people in the room and to taking time to ‘unfurl’: “That time-taking shows respect for the others in the room. It says that the leadership model isn’t always controlling every minute or filling every quarter of an hour with a purpose. It is also time that enables everyone to become part of setting the dynamic, creating the tone and engaging in the conversation.”
For Alex, blindness can create its own time zone: “I have often found myself comparing my way of participating in a group to others, and I can conclude that I’m not ‘keeping up’. The very idea of keeping up immediately suggests that there’s some kind of a competition, or that there’s one way and that you have to keep up with that one way.”

Alex has worked to reframe that notion of ‘keeping up’ into something that works positively for her: rather than keeping up with someone else’s standard, she thinks of keeping up in literal terms: keeping the physical body upright, and in terms of values. “How do I keep upright in these environments? How do I go at my own pace, and establish my own values in a way that that will keep me up?”

Part of this is being aware of what is in her control, and what isn’t.
“I can’t control the level of romanticism or exceptionality or box ticking that’s going on in a space, but I can decide how I am going to enter that room, what I’m bringing into that space… taking a moment before entering a room, just to breathe and imagine oneself in your own body, to feel your feet on the floor, these are simple things but they actually help – when things go wrong just take that moment, take that time, feel your feet on the floor, feel your breath, feel your feet on the floor.” When people put barriers up or make assumptions that knock you, Alex suggests taking a step back and keeping yourself up: “Don’t keep up with them – keep up with yourself!”

Being the only disabled person on a project can make this harder. “There can be so much pivoting around my needs. And that can be a benefit, or it can actually go in the opposite direction, for example there may be an assumption of needs which aren’t there. There’s definitely a real focus on me. Whereas if I ‘m working in a with other disabled people for me that’s where the really beautiful, brilliant navigation and negotiation of peoples’ differing access needs, differing way of working, to me that’s where the magic really exists.”

When it comes to trust, Alex also recognises the importance of allowing time and space for participants to move in and out of activity, allowing them privacy and quiet time within the group as well as full engagement. It can be hard to not allow previous negative experiences to impact on the here and now. “If you’re ready to be here but not ready to expose too much too soon, that HAS to be okay.”
And when we allow for the speed of trust on our terms, creating a pace which moves with our own self and the participants and honours the creative process? Then we can change the assumptions that give speed primacy, and make our considered, considerate ways of working the typical ones. And that, says Alex, benefits everybody!

Fern Di Rossi-Bird: Nest Stop

A nest made up of sticks, dried fern, dried cedar, and moss woven into each other. Around the top of the nest are various duck feathers poking out into different directions. The bits of dried fern and sticks lead away from the nest and extend to the edge of the image. In the centre of the nest is a piece of red satin ribbon. The nest is held by Heather and their white wrist can be seen at the bottom centre of the image. The background is off-white.
A nest made up of sticks, dried fern, dried cedar, and moss woven into each other. Around the top of the nest are various duck feathers poking out into different directions. The bits of dried fern and sticks lead away from the nest and extend to the edge of the image. In the centre of the nest is a piece of red satin ribbon. The nest is held by Heather and their white wrist can be seen at the bottom centre of the image. The background is off-white.
Fern Di Rossi-Bird
it’s all coming together now, found object sculpture, 202

How do we turn our collective full-bodied intelligence towards collaboration, if that is the way we will survive?

adrienne maree brown, Emergent Strategy

Accessing my feelings has never been an issue. However, searching for a way to convey expression has always been a struggle. As a neurodiverse kid, I would spend h  o  u  r  s  drawing, creating, and expressing. It wasn’t important how other people perceived the work I made, and their judgements (good or bad) didn’t feel necessary, but rather, vulnerable. For me, creating brings alive an inner world where I’m able to express, make sense of, complicate, and communicate. 

many mixed media symbol-images are organized in the structure of a grid. From left to right there is a light green abstract looped flower, an orange carrot-like shape surrounded by deep blue and purple. The head of a water spray jug that is green and pink with a yellow and black background. Many blue J hooks dance atop an orange background. A red partial circle sits next to a bright mint green. A close-up of a clock’s numbers 12, 1, 2 and 3 in graphite. A mess of pink, cream, and orange blobs connect and crash into each other. The top of an exaggerated yellow question mark with a black scribbled background. An abstract chubby snake that is pink and muted orange with purple, sticks its black tongue out surrounded by bright lime green background. A close-up of a purple, blue, black, and cream doodle-stylised eye with long lashes and reddened white space. A big pink bubble letter H is outlined in black with a yellow background. A close-up of a blue water bottle with cream and purple wings against a black background. From the bottom right corner spreading across and up is red scribbles making their way into each individual image.]
Fern Di Rossi-Bird
what i’m saying is 18” x 24”, mixed media, 2022

Nest is a feeling as much as it is a language and its purpose for me continued to transform as it came to life. 

Fern Di Rossi-Bird

During my time at Sync, we explored metaphor. Metaphor became a tangible way to express experience, skill and passion. As someone who finds communicating needs/experience/feelings verbally especially challenging, talking through metaphor made a lot of sense as an accessible tool to hold conversation. A metaphor, ‘Nest,’ surfaced immediately. Unknowingly, I had been building it for the duration of my life, selecting components meticulously, learning, unlearning, integrating, assessing, always tending. I didn’t know until the second week of the program that the Nest is not only a metaphor to describe my own creative practice, but a way to celebrate the integral fact that creative practice is participatory with community. That the Nest is a place to rest, imagine, dream, heal, grow, regulate with self, and with community. Nest is a feeling as much as it is a language and its purpose for me continued to transform as it came to life. 

In the forest, I walked until I found a mossy clearing with light pouring in between the branches. I sat against a tree and wrote about everything and everything and everything, communicating to, and with, the deepest parts of myself that lay hidden. The metaphor needed to become realised and so I built a physical nest. Weaving in dried fern and branches, tucking in cedar, pine and moss–bits to fill the gaps. As the weather turned, my nest and I were rained on. It didn’t feel finished, but I had to make the trek home. Holding the nest against my chest, I hoped for feathers and when looking down, a scattering of duck feathers was there. A surprising amount of duck feathers. Feathers that made me wonder if the duck was okay. I selected some of the feathers, including one that had a splash of blue-green, and arranged them around the nest. The Nest felt done, but I had to figure out how to activate it. 

A nest made up of sticks, dried fern, dried cedar, and moss woven into each other. Around the top of the nest are various duck feathers poking out into different directions. The bits of dried fern and sticks lead away from the nest and extend to the edge of the image. In the centre of the nest is a piece of red satin ribbon. The nest is held by Heather and their white wrist can be seen at the bottom centre of the image. The background is off-white.
Fern Di Rossi-Bird
it’s all coming together now, found object sculpture, 2022

The Sync program itself felt like a Nest. It centred and prioritised the myriad of access needs…

Fern Di Rossi_Bird

The Sync program itself felt like a Nest. It centred and prioritised the myriad of access needs: there was a captioner, two ASL interpreters, designated breaks, time to blink away from the screen, transcription, recorded sessions, notes and slides provided, encouragement to show up in whatever way felt right, in whatever way we could. This meant removing shame associated with being in bed. Nest as bed became a place to show up sleepily, in pain, or just because. It gave me permission to extend grace to my own needs. In the second week of the program, when I met with a client over Zoom I said, “today I need to be here in my Nest. I’m in a great deal of pain; I have my heating pad, some tea, and art materials, I hope that’s okay” and it was more than okay. It gave her permission to extend the same comfortability to herself. We had the most vulnerable session we had had thus far, uncovering, and exploring needs, the ways we ignore bits of ourselves that ask to be listened to. 

an altered image of the sky with swirls of layered offset primary colours. On the top is a taped sampling of early-stage symbol communication tools. The first symbol image is a deep red snake-like image against a green background, then an eye that is outlined in blue and black against a grey background, and lastly a pink bubble letter H against a yellow background. The bottom of the image is highly exposed, where most of the pigment is removed and is bright white. Where the colour meets the exposed bits there is a black embossed label that says, ‘you are the weather.
Fern Di Rossi-Bird
giving, altered photograph, 8.5” x 11”, 2022

The metaphor of Nest existed in my life long before I started interacting with it. My Mum called my brother and I her chicks, and she reminded us often that in turmoil, disease, agony, you can always come to the nest for respite. During recess in elementary school, I would weave blades of grass and weeds, adding mud for strength, and would leave the tiny nest sculptures throughout the playground for others to stumble upon. Building physical spaces, objects and installations became places to pause. Space to catch breath, come into body, rest, imagine, and dream. During Sync, I was able to uncover my leadership style and discover the ways they weave in with my values. In this way, feelings about how I am in the world now had language that could be accessed to describe the way the work comes to fruition. One of the most exciting parts about the program was the encouragement to look between, merge, and make new. There were many leadership styles I resonated with, and with support from the cohort and the Sync coaches, I found out my leadership style is Nest. Broadly, Nest is collaborative leadership impacted largely by the environment.

The project Nest Stop became an experiential way of tending to self and community. When I would tend to the Nest – sensory experience, regulation, journaling, processing, making art, decorating, moving around furniture, making the space feel depths of comfort. Nest Stop gives permission to reflect on disability experiences, neurodiversity, non-linear time, and celebrate the ways these nuances impact being a leader-learner with others. I found safe housing in October 2021 and since then I’ve been building Nest, learning more about the qualities of leadership that it has, holds, and what is possible. Layers of comfort in every room. Safety, security, and warmth for us, and as an offering to those who come to create in the space. When the home-Nest feels good, space for other creatives to come in, create, and reset.

Outside my apartment, I smoke and am soothed. Inhale: I think about how the Nest came together so easily. Exhale: it was years of preparation. I walk and notice the world. The birds are building a nest in the space within the roof. There is a gap large enough that a block’s worth of starlings coo through the open window. One morning a starling sat on the open window and sang right into my space. Inside there are bits of comfort and the bird neighbours notice my Nest too.

Fern Di Rossi-Bird is a multi-modal artist and writer, expressive arts therapist, grief worker, and reclaiming Tessitore Magico. They operate Fioritura Expressive Arts Therapy, which delivers 1:1 online and in person sliding-scale sessions for queer, trans, disabled, neurodivergent, and chronically ill people as well as community arts-based workshops that support people in establishing connection with their creativity and imagination, to reactive the magic of collective dreaming. With their three cats Burt, Etta, and Babydoll, Fern lives and works on the unceded ancestral lands of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations in so-called Burnaby, BC, Canada. To find out more about Fern’s practice or to inquire about collaboration, please visit www.fioritura.ca or follow @hello.fioritura on Instagram

Morwenna Collett: A Leadership Evolution

a plastic motif red brooch showing the green flamingo head of a Mary Poppins style umbrella handle.

A signature Mary Poppins green and black flamingo umbrella handle red tie brooch.
Mary Poppins Style Leadership

I recently had the pleasure of dipping my toe back in the glorious waters of the Sync Leadership program, after a hiatus of seven years.

Originally part of the first Australian cohort of the program back in 2014, this time round I joined Sarah Pickthall as part of the facilitation team to work with the third Australian iteration of the program, held online at the end of 2021. 

I additionally trained as a facilitator on the Sync Twilight program in 2022.

What a difference 7 years makes! Since that beautiful time spent at our residential in northern Sydney in October 2014, I have left my job of nearly a decade, given birth to and am now raising a beautiful young child and have undertaken a round-the-world research trip of a lifetime thanks to a Churchill Fellowship. I’ve also worked professionally with a lot of my colleagues from that initial Sync cohort and maintained firm friendships. 

At the moment, feel that I am much more effective as a ‘Mary Poppins’ style leader – as a consultant, I get to come in and work with organisations to help make things better and then set off into the sunset and let them carry on with it all themselves. 

Morwenna Collett

And while I knew I wasn’t the same person now as I was then, I was surprised at just how much I have changed as a leader in that time. I think I initially had this idea that once I’d worked out my leadership style through Sync, that that was it – great, tick, done! But actually for me, while at the time I may have felt like a butterfly emerging from a concoon with my newfound leadership knowledge, my understanding of myself as a leader has grown and deepened over time. Having the necessity to go back and do some deep thinking about leadership again after such a gap was a bit exposing but deliciously nourishing and fulfilling in amidst a jam-packed professional and personal life. And what a gift to myself it was – so thanks Sarah for the invitation!

Having the necessity to go back and do some deep thinking about leadership again after such a gap was a bit exposing but deliciously nourishing and fulfilling in amidst a jam-packed professional and personal life.

Morwenna Collett

For me, the things that changed most noticeably were my leadership metaphor, leadership styles and even my leadership matrix. I remember initially struggling to find my metaphor back in 2014 and eventually settling on a ‘bee’ and the concept of being a cross-pollinator of ideas. And while I still like to think of myself as an ideas germinator, my current metaphor hit me almost immediately – looking out to a clear horizon over a calm blue ocean. While my feet might often be madly paddling to stay afloat beneath the water, I now have a conscious sense of leading from a place of calmness – I do honestly believe that there is rarely such a thing as a life or death ‘arts emergency’ and I try and keep things in perspective now in a way that I couldn’t have done 7 years ago – thanks to a whole of life experience.

I was pleased to see a new leadership style of ‘inclusive leadership’ emerge over recent years, as this wasn’t something on offer as concept when we did the course back in 2014. That really spoke to me and aligns with my previously identified styles of charismatic and collaborative leadership, which I still identify with as well. And getting my head round the leadership matrix and repeating the associated questionnaire – well, the big discovery there was that I am now much more open and comfortable with receiving feedback than younger me was, and that can only be a good thing – I’ve definitely learnt some important lessons because of this over recent years!

So my ‘ah ha’ moment during Sync 2021 was that leadership is not a destination that one arrives at, nor something that is set in stone. It can ebb and flow and has really been more of a continuum for me, and I hope it continues in this way. 

Morwenna Collett

Reflecting back on this, I’ve seen this play out in my career choices and aspirations over the last few years. I’m more comfortable in my own skin and no longer feel the need to chase the big shiny job with the fancy title. At the moment, feel that I am much more effective as a ‘Mary Poppins’ style leader – as a consultant, I get to come in and work with organisations to help make things better and then set off into the sunset and let them carry on with it all themselves. 2014 Morwenna would never have had the courage to take a risk and try and support herself and her family by running her own small business – but 2022 Morwenna is very glad that her leadership style has developed to a point where she’s now comfortable to do this, because it is so great!

Leadership evolves and traits, styles and preferences can change over time. To me, leadership skills can be learned, developed and improved on over time – and I can’t wait to see the type of leader I will be in another 7 years!

Calling Disabled and deaf leaders in Canada. Apply for SyncLeadership, don’t miss the opportunity to evolve your leadership today!

Morwenna Collett | Consultant – arts, diversity, access and inclusion. Copyright © Morwenna Collett February 2022. Morwenna Collett is an accomplished leader, consultant and facilitator with 15 years’ experience in government, the arts, not-for-profit and university sectors, Morwenna has worn the hats of CEO, Board Director, senior leadership team member, project manager, lecturer, researcher, trainer and advisor. She is currently working as an arts consultant specialising in diversity, access and inclusion, and is a member of advisory committees with the City of Sydney, Sydney Festival, Perth Festival and Sydney Fringe. 

Liz Cooper: In Love with Disabled Leadership

Liz Cooper with a smiling face alongside fellow Disabled Artists in a pace with a wooden floor
Liz smiles at the camera taking a picture of herself and 4 disabled women smiling behind her in a studio space on a wooden floor.
Liz Cooper & fellow Disabled Artists & Arts Leaders

Give me these moments back. Give them back to me. Give me that little kiss. I know you have a little life in you yet, I know you have a lot of strength left. I know you have a little life in you yet, I know you have a lot of strength left.

This Woman’s Work, Kate Bush

I always wanted to be some kind of artist since I was a child, abounding with enthusiasm and adventurous spirit, and I was restless unless I was doing, making, performing, creating or on a wild goose chase with other adventurers. 

My physical disability appeared inexplicably at 12 years old and progressed at a steady but life-altering pace so by the time I left school I was living in a world which was extremely different to my non-disabled peers. Endless doctors, clinics, hospitals, operations, physical therapies, infections, rehabilitations, failed surgeries, pain, and extensive medical intervention gave me the feeling at times I was living in a discombobulating gory horror film and other times a psychological thriller trying to guess the ending to this twisted tale. 

I had thought my calling was to be an actor but that dream died a cruel death when all the acting schools I applied to told me actors needed to be physically able-bodied and I would never have a career. At the time I did not even question this. Of course, it made sense. I didn’t have a disabled community or a disabled identity so I didn’t even question this level of ableism. To be honest, I did not even know a disabled community or identity existed. As a disabled person in the world I was pretty isolated. The way I dealt with it all was to mentally compartmentalise my life from my disability. I loved storytelling so an old acting teacher suggested I look at directing and writing which made so much sense. So I started my filmmaking journey by making films with friends; it was fun and accessible. But as I tried to move into the larger film industry I experienced roadblocks again as no one would hire me because of my disability.

So I decided to study film, but there are such strong ideas about what bodies are ‘allowed’ to make work; and being a woman I didn’t need another cross against my name. So I just told people I had an injury rather than a disability – which was really disturbing. I mean, people were happy to make things accessible for an injury, but towards disability, attitudes were very different, even though technically the accessibility requirements would have been the same.  

It became clear the only way I could do this was if I made my own work and worked with people who knew me and continued to largely hide and compartmentalise myself. So, I started making work and in some ways it was an act of resistance, but after a while it was just tiring. Having to work out all my own accessibility needs and perform like a non-disabled person – it just didn’t work after a while. My resilience had really worn thin. 

Liz Cooper

Then, miraculously just when I thought I couldn’t go any further, all these incredible disabled filmmakers, actors and artist started to show up in my life. I discovered a disabled arts community and everything changed. I felt so lucky to come to know these disabled artists, and I felt understood in a way that words cannot describe.  

In more recent years, diversity and inclusion have become buzz words on applications for funding, and funding bodies love to bang on about lived experience. My experience is, and maybe I am cynical, that often this ends up being more part of a box ticking exercise; about metrics, and an optical illusion of diversity and inclusion, especially around emerging sectors, but no real changes are made in attitudes around disability or the way things are done at higher levels. Leadership is crucial to change but we really have to question the way we do everything.  

Doing the Sync Leadership programme was life changing for me. Being a part of a group that centred disabled leadership changed how I saw myself. Just being in a place where we are heard and seen – and held in a gentle open space for us as disabled people with all our trauma and intersections – this was life changing. I always feel so restless, anxious to being exposed – but suddenly I felt like I could be still and be seen. It was unlike any experience I had ever had. 

Liz Cooper

Non-disabled people undervalue the amount of emotional labour disabled people do daily in all our relationships, work, personal, family and the world at large and it can require a lot of mental gymnastics for us to navigate a largely ableist world. But during Sync I felt like the walls of the mental compartments I had created in my mind started to melt away and I became whole. I could comfortably centre my disability and be a disabled person without an explanation or being someone’s afterthought. It wasn’t an “oh I forgot”, it was a ‘front and centre’ and the experience of not having to deal even the small fragment of ableism was life-changing for me.

The Sync coaching asked us to reflect upon our journeys of leadership so far; what strengths we had built, and the people and resources we had in our corner supporting us. The coaching allowed me to look at myself and my journey as valid and see how far I really had come.

Liz Cooper

Having disabled leadership centred in such a way really helped reflect back to me how much energy I spent comparing myself to others and how much stress I felt relying on non-disabled people for access and their leadership and how this was not very conducive for art making. I felt like I had been waiting for someone’s permission. My coach reflected back to me the longing I had for creating stories and the joy and purpose I found in doing that. I began to really see there was a place for me and the practice of the coaching also allowed me to begin to champion the way I had been doing things, the validity of that, and how I had been leading and creating work from an authentic place all along. 

It wasn’t just the individual coaching in Sync that shifted me, it was being together with this incredible group of people, the way Sarah and Jo approached the group. It was conversation which centred on disabled artistic leadership – and the way it was modelled showed us, through the workshop, in the way they inhabited the space, just how easily it can be done. 

Being in a space where you are seen and valued as you is life changing. Disabled artist leadership is as sexy as fuck, I am completely in love with it. It is not just a box to be ticked – it is truly a completely achievable, precious and wonderful way of life and now I realised I actually have a lot of strength left. 

Copyright © Liz Cooper February 2022

Bec Hogan: Inclusion is daggy but that’s ok.

a watercolour sketch of a disgruntled woman. behind her are stereotypical images of diversity and inclusion, people holding hands, multicoloured hands and the words daggy, lame and naff!
An original artwork by Bec Hogan

Inclusion by definition means including people, to provide equal access to opportunities and resources for people who might otherwise be excluded. 

“Inclusion moves us beyond access, beyond universal design. Inclusion — the act of including everyone — is a deeper shift towards welcoming and valuing people exactly as they are.”

https://www.cahoots.org.au/diversity-and-inclusion/inclusive-meaning/[SP1]

Inclusion and inclusivity are – of course – good things, yet how can such fundamentally good things often feel, kinda daggy, naff or even lame?

Inclusivity, diversity, and accessibility are unfortunately victims of corruption – basically good things that have been warped. Inclusion in the modern world conjures images of ethnically diverse people holding hands across the world, possibly singing whilst all humanities’ ailments simply disappear.  

It’s also become a buzzword amongst lazy industrialists and HR managers who want to be seen to do ‘good’ without really contributing to change. These are the disappointing realities of the term, inclusion, and something I’ve witnessed in my corporate work and even in the [supposedly more diverse] artistic world. I had to repress the slight rolling of my eyes and silence my own scepticism when listening to people saying the right thing about inclusion, only to let it slip off the table or be pushed to one side when something more pressing or less taxing or time-consuming takes precedent. 

So, when I was selected for the Sync Leadership program I knew that inclusivity and being inclusive were good things but I was unsure as to how they related to my leadership, and how that could make a difference to me being a better leader.

When Sarah, and the 2021 Australian Sync cohort, began to talk about inclusive leadership, and how we – as people with disability – are in a unique and natural position to inspire and explore inclusive leadership, I was intrigued. Personally, I have always gravitated towards the traditional iterations of leadership styles that centre on charisma and verbal communication. My disability directly effects my ability to write, so I learned to communicate verbally well and fast. I know how to spin a yarn to inspire my vision of the future and why those around me should be invested in a better way. But inclusiveness always seemed like a benefit of leadership rather than a crucial element of it. 

I never saw myself as particularly inclusive in my leadership style – it didn’t occur to me that diversity and inclusiveness in leadership were crucial to real access moving forward, and that being curious and courageous as a leader and cognisant of my own bias were critical factors. It seems, with hindsight, like it should have been obvious to me, but that is the biggest hurdle with internalised prejudice – it’s about realising it’s there. 

This has been a massive mental shift for me. Personally, inclusive leadership is not only about having more diversity at the heads of our systems; women in government, people of colour in boardrooms, people with disability on television, etc. It’s also about leadership behaviours; being curious and tenacious about who is not in the room and challenging that at every turn. 

With this new insight, and almost without realising, I began to notice and question differently about who wasn’t at the table. I became more verbal, more distracting in meetings and I wasn’t afraid to speak up when I noticed a room full of people discussing accessibility features and being the only person with a disability. Again, I found myself speaking up when others were discussing new positions in large organisations directly relating to disability – and no one considering hiring a person with disability. I pushed aside my unconstructive annoyance and started speaking up from within an inclusive leadership context. People noticed – and the beginnings of real change felt more possible in collaboration.

It’s funny how an idea can spark change; how moving inclusion and leadership into inclusive leadership as a practice has revealed so much more potential for me on my leadership journey. While many aspects of the Sync Leadership Program were beneficial to me; discussing motivations, meeting other leaders with disability and complex debates around interesting issues – all fun and all useful, the conversation on different leadership styles provided actionable steps for me personally. 

So while inclusion may still be a little daggy – it is still good and is worth leading for.

Bec Hogan took part in the recent Sync Intensive program in Australia in late 2021. She is the creative director of Gem Rock Media, that specializes in digital access, social media inclusion and consults for Accessible Arts and the ABC.  As an emerging artist, working in paints, photography and video art, Bec has been a part of several art exhibitions and spoken publicly on her arts practice and short films. 

Instagram: @bechogan__  
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/gemrockmedia/

Richard Bell: Revolution within myself

A mixed bacteria culture the stain used was called gram stain. Where certain bacteria are stained pink and certain bacteria are stained purple during the process for identification purposes.
Truth that Underlies Identity @Richard Bell

In the ultimate revolution of me, I sat in the SYNC leadership program to learn about the awakening of myself. Constantly in conflict of the battle within my mind of career choices, it was time to explore and create something new.

Rebuilding out of the rubble of my relapse, which occurred in 2008, I immersed myself in poetry and art. In the aftermath of the relapse, hallucinations would escape my lips involuntarily in unbroken dialogue, and artistic creativity was the only way to silence the symptoms of psychosis.

For years my ink-filled footprints, marching to the beat of social advocacy. Then throughout the years, the rebellion of fighting as injustice brought me to find I was spending too much time focused on being sick and on my mental illness. So, I transitioned from illness to wellness and started focusing on myself and who I was as an individual. The beat of my drum turned me to Polynesian heritage, focusing on my Tongan background, through superimposing cultural symbols over original photography. 

But constantly conflicted in the warzone of my mind, were thoughts of, Is this who I am? Echoing off the inside of my head, Is this who I originally set out to be? Standing within the SYNC Australia leadership program was like a crucible burning away everything leaving only what was necessary. 

Standing within the SYNC Australia leadership program was like a crucible burning away everything leaving only what was necessary.

Richard Bell

The leadership drivers that we learned helped me figure out where I was coming from. In a revolutionary moment, I realised that two of the things that were driving me were stability and commerce. In the moment of truth and honesty, art was giving me none of that.

Then as the program continued, I discovered in a moment of personal power, that I was really enjoying the coaching element to the sessions. In the smoke from the rebellion through social injustice. I witnessed, through my questioning, people reacting to light bulb moments igniting the darkness of their problems. I felt good to see the changes in people on a face-to-face level.

I discovered in a moment of personal power, that I was really enjoying the coaching element… I witnessed through my questioning, people reacting to light bulb moments igniting the darkness of their problems.

Richard Bell

In amongst the leadership program, I came to the ultimate realisation that art was not really my authentic self, may have just been a tool in this revolution against the illness to become stable in my mental health. 

Poetry that fought injustices, was to process the hurt and pain of my relapse. Recognising that people who talk to themselves from the point they wake until they slept, go into homes for the mentally ill and never come out again. 

Eyes awaken to art as a recovery tool, and what was always in the back of my mind was science, it was the first certificate I completed from coming out of high school was science.

Now in the revolution of an authentic self, I have found myself a job to provide stability and commerce, and I am endeavouring to study science using art and poetry achievements as a recovery tool. In the midst of fighting injustices, I now have recovered the conflict within and revolutionised myself to find what is my true self. 

Richard J Bell calls himself a Contemporary Creative Soul and multiform artist, who delves into genres such as creative memoirs, contemporary poetry, lived experience opinion pieces, sculpture, photography and kupesi drawings.  Starting off writing about his lived experience of schizophrenia with the hopes other who have similar experiences will read and relate to it on an emotional level, he is currently transitioning from illness to wellness and rather than fighting the hurt, pain and injustice, he is working on exploring his own culture and heritage through different Polynesian kupesi designs superimposed over original photos of Tonga. Now juggling the aspects of a real job, study and artistic achievements to build a healthier self-image within, he continues live a relatively normal lifestyle in conjunction with his disability. 

Richard J Bell – Contemporary Creative Soul https://www.facebook.com/richardjbell84

Polynesian Contemporary Tribe https://www.facebook.com/polynesiantribe

Unheard Poets Society https://www.facebook.com/unheardpoetssociety

Unheard Tribes https://www.facebook.com/unheardtribes

Copyright © Richard J Bell 21st December 2021

The Zine of things to come

A scatter gun set of pictures of Sync people from UK and Canada with interconnecting lines
A montage in light blue and green of 33 different faces of Sync Alumni from Canada and the UK who took part in the Sync Meet up Exchange in the Spring of 2021,
33 SYNC ALUMNI FROM UK AND CANADA

In Spring 2021, with the support of Canada Council for the Arts and British Council, Canada, 33 of our Sync Alumni from the UK and Canada spent a month in and out of Zoom rooms supping the good soup of our leadership thinking in these unprecedented times. 

Sync has come a long way since its inception in 2008. When Jo Verrent and myself set out our Sync stall, Deaf and disabled leadership* was still a bit of an enigma with our leadership ambitions and access for the most part maligned, misunderstood and at worst, disregarded. It was Hilary Carty of Clore Leadership and her helming of the then Cultural Leadership programme that gave us the impetus and push to shape Sync our way with its kick ass ‘y’ and access in place, we have continued rolling out our disabled-led coaching leadership formula ever since. It’s become a key place to explore what gets in the way of our best laid plans and our purpose in the world together.

Disabled folk are the original adaptors and shape shifters; we – by our very presence –  challenge what leadership looks and behaves like and we’re still doing this as more of us are defying expectations of how we must behave in this space. Over the last two years, we’ve had to change our patterns and positions to stay in the leadership game; keeping up our activism and making unexpected and unusual interventions being authentic and staying true to our ways of being. We’ve had nothing and everything to lose. In this way we have continued to lead as artists, producers, managers and entrepreneurs; from grass roots to great galleries and grand stages, albeit digitally. We’ve needed allies to notice the labour this takes and to share the load of that labour. It is common sense to us, but also critical to our survival, to pace and pause particularly with online and now hybrid professional lives and so we are modelling ways of being that everyone can relate to, rather than seeing us as ‘other’ or an oddity in the pervading ableist frame we still have to operate within.

These springtime Sync exchanges were thrilling and a million miles away from a moan-fest, but powerful in our questioning around our rightful place in the arts and culture landscape. It was about leaning into and unpacking the stories of what was still getting in our way. Of course devising strategies of how to move forward differently – despite the unknown road ahead of us all featured heavily too.

The meet ups allowed us to shed light on the shielding and the restrictions, and the labels lazily foisted upon us, to claim back the word ‘vulnerable’ on our terms and broker how we might feature in climate discussions. It gave us opportunities to share our grand plans for museum and collection representation and reflect together on how we’ve helmed disabled and Deaf-led projects and organisations, always putting coaching practice – as Sync has always insisted it sit, at the heart of our leadership progression.

Our most recent intensive programme in Australia, in a new two week virtual format, has clearly demonstrated the continuing need for Sync as a safe and stretching disabled-led space to explore potential and pathways as it relates to the different societies and lands we live upon. Sync is committed to reflecting and responding to who is not in the room and who by our very entitlement we might still be excluding; that’s all part of the self-effacing position we take we must continue to take when we put our heads above the parapet. Below is a link for the Zine, audio described by Michael Achtman.

Audio Description of Sync Zine 2021

In 2022, Sync is developing new iterations of our leadership and coaching formula: a new two week intensive format for British Columbia, a seminar series for learning disabled leaders, and a live event as part of CoMotion festival on May 1 at Harbourfront Centre.

*language around disability globally is nuanced and varied, shifting from country to country, community to community. By Deaf and disabled we include all those self-identifying as experiencing barriers due to impairment within the societies in which they live. This includes those with lived experience of learning disability, mental health experiences, chronically ill folk and those defining as neurodivergent.

Sarah Pickthall is an artist, coach, consultant and co-founder of Sync Leadership. She is a lead facilitator for Leadership in Personalised Care programme, NHS Academy, UK and Diversity Associate for Clore Leadership.

Remarkable by Kelsie Acton

A screengrab of Kelsie's embroidery work.
Video: Remarkable by Kelsie Acton

A square white piece of cloth on a brown laminate floor. Words are written in blue marker.

They say:

“But what I find remarkable about (the) disability community is the intention and effort to include all of the people to the fullest extent possible, not just most of the people when convenient.”

“Convenient” is spelt wrong.

The image fades and a view of me embroidering the fabric comes into focus. I’m alternating light green and dark green thread for each letter.

The fabric is now in an embroidery frame and in the centre of the picture. You can’t see my face, just my arms and legs to the right of the embroidery. I’m dressed in dark blue and black with turquoise slippers.

The motion is steady, repetitive, pulling the thread smoothly through and then the needle diving down. A pause as my hand darts behind the fabric and then the needle and the hands reappear and all of this repeats.

This quote (that I am embroidering) was given to me by my dear friend Ash McAskill and is a quote from a paper by Carrie Sandahl. In this paper Sandahl proposes that it is not just disability but impairment itself that is generative and artistic. Impairment reconfigures space and time, opening up new aesthetics and new ways of being in community.

Close ups of three pairs of hand embroidering fill the screen from top to bottom.

If you know how to look you can see my impairment in the embroidery. The letters are not the same size despite my careful attempts to lay out the text. I have run out of room for the word CONVENIENT and it is crammed into the right bottom corner. It occurs to me that this jumble (represents) the beautiful imperfection of disability leadership and disability community.

We do try to include all of the people to the fullest extent possible; sometimes that’s a little awkward and imperfect but we make it work and we learn from this. It takes a long time: hours of repetitive tasks and motions, done with care.

The completed embroidery appears in the centre as my stitching blurs away.  It is simple, plain, revealing nothing of the hours of movement that created it and there is beauty and charm in the lettering that swells and shrinks and just manages to fit itself on(to) the page.

Quote from Carrie Sandahl’s article Considering Disability: Disability’s Phenomenology’s Role in Revolutionizing Theatrical Space in the Journal of Dramatic Theory and Criticism

Spring 2002

Remarkable by Kelsie Acton

Ingrid Palmer: Ambiversion – blending the conflicting sides of ourselves

Photo of Ingrid Palmer
3 hands pulling back a garment to reveal a silver and diamond encrusted Chainmail undergarment
A photograph of hands revealing a silver and diamond encrusted Chainmail

“There is a crack in everything: that’s how the light gets in.” 

“Anthem”, Leonard Cohen

This month I had the opportunity to touch base with the wonderful Ingrid Palmer, Sync Ontario Alumni storyteller and active community advocate in housing, child welfare, protection and Black Voices United.   Ingrid has an excellent and growing reputation as a speaker and performer, and she and I spoke about what’s been happening since Sync in June – our first online programme in Ontario.

“Sync has changed things for me, in ways I couldn’t have imagined,” said Ingrid. “Everything I do is about amplifying voices and reclaiming power – my own and others – and doing this publicly.”  And yet, working with the Sync matrix, Ingrid identified networking as an area of weakness. Or, as Ingrid put it so eloquently, “how I simply ‘suck’ at networking!”

The Sync leadership matrix, a model designed with our colleague Mark Wright from People Create Ltd at the inception of Sync, remains a staple part of our Sync Intensive course both face to face and now online.  The matrix allows us to map our leadership confidence and connection with self, our organisations and projects, and our wider constituencies and stakeholders. It can be quite a wake-up call to see reflected back through using the matrix the areas where things need some attention.

What Ingrid identified was the sometimes unnerving mix that she holds within her personality which makes her both an extrovert and an introvert.  The blend of these two traits is sometimes referred to as ambiversion or omniversion.

Jung popularised the terms extraversion (his spelling) and introversion, but he also acknowledged that they did not exist as polarities on a continuum but rather as traits that we all have, though one is likely to be dominant over the other. A challenge for us in our leadership is to identify how we can move towards controlling or shifting these traits within ourselves as part of the self-actualisation process, thus enabling us to step fully into our power and to capitalise on our propensities.

Ingrid shared with us the important role that introversion has played in her leadership development process because it allows her to reconfigure and to rest.  It can also have its drawbacks: “I’m in control when I’m delivering, I relentlessly prepare and when I step out I’m all there, yet the aftermath is when I tend to retreat back into my shell.” 

Since Sync Ingrid has been thinking more on how she might tackle her reluctance to network when she’s not performing or on the podium.  Is there a way of doing this that allows her to extend her influence further and get more of what she wants “I’m not how people imagine me to be. When I step out of the light, I’m a softer shade of myself.”

So how has Ingrid managed to build her confidence and move into the networking space, connecting more effectively with audiences? In part, Zoom has meant she hasn’t had to deal with being in the ‘real’ space and its challenges. Entering that space has, in the past, ended with her facing a wall because she can’t see, with people not telling her that she’s facing the wrong way. This kind of demoralising experience has certainly played a part in her reluctance to step confidently off the stage and into the group.

Ingrid’s leadership metaphor has proved really useful in this respect.  She had identified chainmail, of the beautiful and sparkly sort but nonetheless impregnable, as her metaphor.  Since Sync, she has realised that she doesn’t want to be completely defended: there needs to be a chink in her protective layer to allow her to connect in a reciprocal relationship with her audiences. There’s got to be that gap, that portal that connects, says Ingrid: that chink that “let(s) the magic out.”

Watch this short video to hear more about how working with Sync has enabled Ingrid Palmer to extend more into herself:

Ingrid is a finalist at Speaker Slam – The Grand Slam which takes place from 3-5pm on November 28th 2020. She’ll be wearing her chainmail on the inside, and letting chinks of light out to highlight the opportunities that will be tumbling her way thereafter.