The Whitworth (Art-Gallery), City of Manchester

Introduction

Firstly, May I introduce myself. My name is Colin-Roy. I have been disabled for more than twenty years. My conditions fluctuate dramatically. Sometimes I can walk with one or two walking-sticks; sometimes I use a manual wheelchair. Mostly I am trapped abed and unable to leave my room. So my rare outings are full of excitement for me, even if it is to the G.P., dentist or hospital!

On Saturday, 22nd September 2018 my principal carer took me to The Whitworth, a long-established public art-gallery in central Manchester.

Planning

Prior to setting off, we looked for accessibility information. This is not located in the top menu. One has to scroll right to the very bottom of the museum’s home page and then read across the bottom menu. Alas, this only includes a statement of intent. Hence why it is hidden at the bottom of the page.

We returned to the home page and decided to click on “Visit”. Six items down is “Access”. We were directed to potential disabled parking-bays. These are listed quite comprehensively, but with no map. There is a link to a map, but it is not marked with the bays’ locations. A map on the same page as the explanations as to the whereabouts of the disabled parking-bays would be useful and reduce the amount of pages which one is required to negotiate. This important to many different impairments.

Recommendation 1: a map clearly marked with disabled parking.

Access into the Building

The southern access to Manchester is extremely difficult to negotiate and it is very easy to slip onto a ‘bus-only route. Staff at The Whitworth advised that several disabled folk have incurred fines for straying onto the restricted routes. Therefore, I should suggest that one’s route be planned prior to setting off on one’s journey. Do not rely on a sat-nav!

We decided to aim for Denmark Street. My carer used to work in the area; but the frequent changes  to one-way systems, etc. meant we lost our way once. On reaching the road, we immediately espied the disabled parking-bays and took a spot.

The above photograph was taken from the bonnet of our car in the nearest bay. An entrance can be seen just right of the lamp-post. There are six steps without a grip to what becomes a very gentle incline. If one were in a wheelchair, one would have to go to the end of the railings and turn right.

If one were manually wheeling one’s chair, it is a very long distance to the main entrance, although the gradient is very gentle. One has to take a very elongated U-shaped route to the entrance. It is difficult to comprehend why an access-route from the Oxford Road entrance (anyone coming by ‘bus would use this entrance - in the centre of the photograph on the left) was not constructed to the base of the ramp into the main entrance (which can be seen in the bottom of the photograph on the right), rather than sending the wheelchair-user on a circuitous route.

After our visit to the art-gallery, we were leaving in our car when I noticed a sign (photograph below) that indicates the level-access into the venue. If only a prominent notice had been placed either near the disabled parking-bays or at the base of the steps! This route takes one through one of The Whitworth’s own gardens and into the building, whereupon one needs to take a lift up  to the galleries themselves, the café, the two shops and the information desk (situated at the main entrance).

Recommendation 2: review access-routes into the gallery and improve access-route signage.

Food & Drinks

We were hungry as we had passed on breakfast to ensure a parking-space at our destination. So our first stop was the café.

As can be clearly seen in the image above, there is ample space for manuœvring a wheelchair. However, we noted none of the chairs available had arms and given the flimsy appearance of the tables, one may feel unwilling to lean on same to help one rise from being seated. All the chairs are of the same height, which may cause difficulties for those requiring, for example higher seating due to not being able to bend down lower. I also suspect that the ‘horns’ on the chair-backs might prod into larger visitors.

Recommendation 3: introduce a variety of seating options, various heights, with & without arms, and stools (useful, for example, to kids who kneel & larger customers whose size militates against small chairs).

We thoroughly enjoyed the views over the gardens and the adjoining park. We watched children exploring outdoor art-projects from the comfort of our table.

The food offering was very good. It tended to be pricey - we payed £8/9 for each meal (veggie brunch, top image above, and scrambled eggs with salmon) and approximately £2.50 for a coffee. Given the quality of the produce and how full we were, we did consider the food good value-for-money.

  

Access Inside the Building

Whilst there are stairs between floors, there are also several lifts - not all go to all floors, so one needs to carefully read the signage outside each respective lift. Each lift was amply large for a wheelchair, some large enough to do a circular turn. 

There are ramps to raised areas, but be aware that one may have to exit the way one entered, whereas able folk may have choices.

Toilets

I had no need to visit the conveniences on this trip. However, my carer did so and he checked out the disabled facilities. He averred that it was large enough for my wheelchair, which has a leg-support extension, but that there is not much turning-room. He was also delighted that they were immaculately clean with no malodour.

Seating

I have already mentioned the seating in the café. Similarly all the seating we spotted in The Whitworth were low benches or banquettes; there was no high seating for those with difficulty bending down low. Additionally, none of the seating had arms, so that one could help raise oneself.

Shops

Had I been in my wheelchair, I should have been rather concerned at entering the shop with ceramics & pottery on display, in case I banged into a display. But the shops would be generally accessible to a wheelchair-user.

Noise

We turned up on a day when live singing was being performed approximately every half-an-hour. The sound levels were deafening. I have an aural acuity issue that means loud noises cause me actual pain. I am aware that many conditions, including autism have issues with loud noise. Due to all the hard surfaces within the galleries, the sound appeared to be augmented. There was no safe space to escape the sound.

Additionally, some of the William Kentridge exhibits used sound: one of which I could not enter at all, as even outside of it, I was suffering pain from the noise levels being produced. The artist is hearing-impaired and hence the sound levels were set to a high level. I understand from gallery staff that the levels are going to be reduced as they have had several complaints. Ideally, the exhibit needs to have a quiet, standard and high level sound rotating for the differing requirements of visitors.

There were no notices at any of the galleries entrances warning of high sound-levels on the day we visited. This fails many folk with a variety of conditions. This was disappointing, as the black & white prints, making up the Goya & Hogarth exhibition, would otherwise presumably be accessible to those with autism, as there is a distinct lack of colour in the relevant spaces.

Recommendation 4: ensure warning notices are prominently displayed when sound levels might be an issue and provide ear-plugs to those who might need them.

Staff

I spoke to ten members of staff whilst there: two different folk at the main-desk; three different folk in the two shops; three in the café; two folk in different galleries. Excluding the café, all staff were friendly & helpful. The staff in the café were professional but officious.

Conclusions

I realise from my criticisms that one may think that The Whitworth is not worth the trouble of visiting. Rather, over all, I spent a lovely few hours in a wonderful space admiring fabulous works of art. I intend to visit again, even if just for their brunch; but I shall park nearer the level-access entrance and take my own ear-plugs!

Art for All

In my first term of junior school, I went from sitting at the back of the class to the desk directly in front of the chalk-board, and still I could not see what was written upon it. A speedy trip to the optician revealed a usually hereditary condition, which no-one else in the family was known to have had, as they all had or had had, really good eyesight. I required new spectacles every six months as my vision was deteriorating rapidly. My parents were mortified that they had just thought I was clumsy. I was apprised that I should likely be blind by twenty-one. Being a bibliophile I dreaded that I would not be able to read, so began to teach myself Braille.

As it happened, I did not go blind. My sight deterioration stabilised. My prescription is so strong that folk with good vision instantly hurt their eyes/get head pain when looking through my glasses. Even with high-density materials, my lenses look like the bottoms of bottles. Approximately eighty percent of folk with disabilities develop them during their life-times; so only about twenty percent are born already disabled. Very few have warnings of pending disability and time to prepare for it. And, per the Office for Disability Issues (ODI) around eleven million folk in the UK have some kind of disability; that's about one in six of us.

In my art classes at secondary school I developed my own personal technique to raise the images I drew so that they could be sensed via touch alone. I would start by thickly layering wax-crayon across the surface of the paper. Then I sponged colour as needed in blocks or across the whole waxed layer. Once this had dried, I used Indian-ink, most often black, and scraped silhouette images, usually of leafless trees, but also, bodies of water, people, dogs and other plants. To this day (I am now in my fifties) I still possess two or three works. Alas, in storage.

Galleries & Musea

In my late teens cum early twenties I went to work whilst most of my school-chums attended university. However, I used to spend most of my weekends visiting various university campuses. On one such trip I took myself to a museum, where I was the sole visitor. Back in the mid-1980s there were seldom security cameras. I strolled about the exhibits touching, feeling the statuary. I had not realised how cool marble is as I had not encountered it up to said point. My fingertips could feel the smoothness of skin, the curls of hair.

I understand that touching is a risk to artworks due to acidity and dirt in body oils and sweat. Nonetheless, there are millions of items that never see the light of day, I cannot see any good reason why a proportion could not be set aside for galleries where touching is permitted.

I should also like to see audio descriptions available for at least permanent items on display and their concomitant labels. This would be of assistance not simply to the blind but also those with other sight impairments.

And finally, a plea for seating that can be used for resting in every room/salon/space.

Theatres

Prior to becoming disabled I was an avid theatre-goer. There are several reasons why I very rarely attend nowadays. The main reason is the seating, especially for older theatres, which is so damned uncomfortable. I have to be having a really good spell to be willing to put up with the resulting pain. A second issue which seems to becoming more prevalent in dance and avant-garde performances is no intervals. I understand that professional performers want to keep in the zone, but many disabled, chronically sick and indeed elderly need toilet breaks, or an opportunity to rehydrate, take meds, and so forth.

I would also like to see the return of usher/ettes. At Manchester's Opera House there is now an at-seat service, by which one can order drinks &/or snacks and they are brought to one at the interval. A boon to folk who cannot stand for long and especially not in queues.

However, pluses include occasional BSL-signed performances for deaf folk, loop-systems for the hard of hearing and free or reduced tickets for assistants.

Cinemas

With the same seating and lack of interval issues as theatres, cinemas additionally have the problem of loudness. In 2011 I went to the Cornerhouse cinema in Manchester to see Pedro Almodóvar's "The Skin I Live In". The sound-system created such noise and vibrations my blood-pressure dropped and I began to faint. My companion escorted me outside into fresh air and we decided to go home. I did not return until December last year in order to see the latest Star Wars. I took with me a pair of ear-plugs. I followed the tale with no problems and did not swoon. I may have found a means to more frequently visit the flicks.

Seating can be improved. Showcase Leeds Cinema offers fully reclining seats. I have inter alia osteoarthritis in my lumber and left hip. Sitting is one of the most uncomfortable/painful positions for me. Being able to recline, as at home, would be a genuine boon. There are many conditions where folk need to keep legs/feet raised.

However, cinemas ought to be offering some screenings with lower noise levels, which might be useful to all sorts of folk including so-called fuddy-duddies, those with hyper-acuity as well as some with autistic spectrum issues.

In larger cinemas, it would be good to employ permanent BSL-communicators, so that films could be signed at different times of the day, not just one performance every now and again in an evening slot.

Accessibility

Arts venues, of course in my opinion, need to do far more than pay lip-service and nod towards access for the disabled. A few ramps, lifts, a loop-system and a push-button to open doors are simply insufficient, especially when many of us find the lift out of order, the loop-system off-line, and so on.

All ventures need to attract the largest audiences possible: disabled folk, chronically sick people, and elderly individuals make up a very large percentage of the population. Making accommodations should be designed in to all new construction programmes, from architects (who are still obsessed with using flights of steps instead of clever use of graded access), sound design, use of colour, clear and ample signage, etc.

I should like to see the various arts' councils of the UK's nations insist upon clauses relating to accessibility issues added each time grants are made. I think grants from local authorities similarly should insist upon improved access.

I am no expert on disability issues nor disability access. I observe these issues trying to come up with some common-sense, pragmatic solutions. The reader may have other suggestions or observations: feel free to add them in the comments section below.

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"And now: the Gallery…" an exhibition of art for disabled is also published today for Blogging Against Disablism Day (#BADD2016). The reader may also find of interest a post I published in March entitled "Towards a Theory of Art". 
 

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As per previous years the archive for BADD2016 is being hosted by Goldfish on Diary of a Goldfish and is being administered by her and her hubby, Mister Goldfish. There one can find previous years' full archives as well as this year's as it grows over the next few days. Please do take a look - one is bound to find something that is of interest or piques one's curiosity!