Not Without Us: A Celebration of Disabled Joy

2023 

Collaborative Lego sculpture

A ramp made of 10,000 Lego bricks, in a variety of colors, shapes, and styles, was built by the Georgetown community at the DCC’s Ramping Up Access Event. Students, faculty, and staff all collaborated in creating the ramp as a community. While the ramp is functional, it is a metaphor for access: collective, creative, and vibrant.

Image Description: Lego bricks in a variety of colors and shapes, in the shape of a ramp.

2025 

oil on canvas 

22 x 29 

Artist Statement:
“In order to redefine my relationship with the parts of my body that have caused my medical issues, I deliberately built this piece to be visually striking, vibrant, and beautiful. Putting care into building connective tissue as an ornamental piece helped me to deconstruct the anger and grief that I often associate it with. I hope with this piece, that others will choose to learn more and reflect about connective tissue, and other often invisible diseases.”

Image description: A painting of blue, orange, yellow, and pink abstract shapes and multicolored dots against a beige background.

2024 

36 in tall, 1.5 in spherical

Exposed wood and mixed media

This project—a forearm crutch hand-carved out of a branch from the Whitehaven Parkway woods in DC where I spent much of my childhood—came to be because I had recently undergone the process of transitioning to using mobility aids and coming to terms with the myriad of emotions that such usage entails. I saw creating a personalized mobility aid by hand as a process of disability grief, which has been ever-present over the three years since I acquired a chronic illness. A big part of my grief pertains to my ability to connect with nature, which has always been a large part of my life and essential to my ability to manage my mental health. The loss of my ability to easily access nature without having to prepare or check in with my body’s capacities as a result of my chronic illness felt like not only a loss of something I loved but also a loss of a part of my identity. As such, I wanted to create something that is a productive embodiment of this grief—a functional mobility aid made of materials from the woods I grew up in and that would enable my return to those woods. 

A driving force for the project was my desire to undertake the physical process. The carving process included identifying a suitable fallen branch while on a hike with my dogs, sawing the branch to size using my existing forearm crutch as a guide, stripping the initial layer of bark, whittling the wood down to the right thickness, sanding until smooth, burning the design of a sunflower (the symbol of invisible disabilities) and the names of people who had supported me through this process into the wood, staining and sealing the entire crutch, and finally crafting an adjustable leather band to act as the forearm cuff. I was steadfast from the beginning that I wanted to complete all of the carving by hand (not utilizing power tools) because I identified taking the time to sit with the project and feeling as though I was shaping the wood with my own hands as an essential component of the grieving process. In this way, the process was far more important to me than the product. While I was working, I chose not to listen to music. I wanted to sit with the project and whatever emotions—both positive and negative—that arose during the process. In this way, the project was an experience of mindfulness: moving between imagining each slice of wood I peeled off as a part of my life I have lost due to my disability to imagining that with each slice I was making myself lighter and moving closer to the experience of weightlessness I feel when I have just come out of a flare-up and can walk easily without a mobility aid—an experience that is only possible due to my use of aids during my flares. As such, this project and the process of its creation serve as embodiments of disability grief and my personal journey with disability and mobility aids.

Image description: A forearm crutch constructed out of exposed wood: natural curvature in the wood with a horizontal section jutting out about three-fourths of the way up, creating a place for one’s hand. A leather band with a small leather tie extends horizontally from the top, creating an adjustable forearm cuff. The wood is stained a light grayish-brown with a shining sealant. A dark spiraling design of a sunflower extends from the base to three-fifths of the way up. Small, cursive names are written along the edges of the sunflower’s stem: Mom, Linley, Stacia, Caed, D+A, Miray.

2024

photograph

24 x 36

Image

This portrait draws from the phases of the moon. It is a visual expression of deep reflection. I often felt present but not fully understood, shifting between being seen and being invisible. The image captures that tension. It holds the emotion of learning to exist in fragments while trying to understand who I am beneath the surface.

Image description: A photograph of a dark-skinned woman's side profile against a gray background with the front of her face completely covered in shadow. She wears her dark red curly hair in a bun, a silver dangly earring in her exposed ear, and a black top with a high neck.

2024

photograph

16 x 20 

This image is meant to invoke a sense of mystery. It is about presence, disappearance, and the quiet act of being. As the photographer, I stepped back and allowed the light to move around a barely visible figure. The result feels intentional, yet uncertain. It explores what it means to leave a trace in a world that often overlooks what it cannot explain.

Image description: A photograph of a person standing in the center of an empty, dark classroom, with swirls of light in front of them. 

Bakary Koné was born in Newark, New Jersey, and raised in Côte d’Ivoire. I grew up in a culture that often misnamed my learning difference as something shameful. My work reflects the emotional landscape of growing up with dyslexia in a society that did not recognize it as a disability. Instead, it was seen as something to fear or reject. Through photography, I use light and silence to tell the truth of my experience. I want others to see what was once dismissed or misunderstood.

2025 

Musical performance, 2025

Video recording (4:13 minutes)

This piece blends Laylat Hob and O Re Piya, songs Shreya and Dani grew up with, reflecting the way disability can feel inextricable from the self, offering comfort in continuity and a sense of self. The slow passages, fast bursts, call-and-response sections, and emotional turns mirror the disability wisdom of interdependence, collaboration, and collective care. Through their performance, listening and responding to unspoken cues becomes a form of disability “access intimacy”: an exchange that relies on understanding each other’s way of being. Full of joy and nuance, the piece celebrates the richness of disabled experience and the power of artistic collaboration.

Visual description: Shreya, in a velvet dark red blouse and skirt set, stands playing her violin, its small chip in the wood giving it personality, beside Dani, seated in a bluish-gray suit, playing his ornately decorated darbuka from Jordan. They perform in Georgetown University’s Bioethics Library, surrounded by light wood bookshelves and a gold-trimmed dark wood grandfather clock, with a red carpet beneath their feet.

2023 

Animation 

2:00 minutes 

Artist statement

“For as long as I could remember, people would ask me, "why are you moving around so much?" I would then immediately look down and realize my legs fiercely moved up and down as my hands shook side to side. I could do that endlessly without noticing, but somehow hearing someone ask about it broke the spell. After hearing that question enough, I began to internalize it. This animation is my answer to that question. It is a celebration of disability culture because part of recognizing my disability was coming to terms with my ever present need for movement. Upon reflection, I shouldn't question the way I am so much. Sometimes, I just have to do what my body and mind are telling me. Instead of asking myself why I move so much, maybe next time, I should ask, “why not move more.”

Image description: An interactive technological art piece that switches between different graphics of moving shapes, one of a human-like figurine, in different environments. Environments include a sahara themed background and a snow themed background to show the changing of seasons.

Ink stamps on canvas
October 2024 

Image description: A beige background with stamps in black ink, representing the 10 principles of disability justice. Intersectionality, leadership of the most impacted, anti-capitalist politics, cross-movement solidarity, wholeness, sustainability, cross-disability solidarity, interdependence, collective access, and collective liberation. In red letters around the stamps, is red text: “Disability is inherently political and I’m tired of pretending it’s not.”

2023
Inkjet digital print of acrylic on canvas 

16 x 20 

Image description: A digital painting of nebulous blends of various colors used to create the image of a solar system, including abstract representations of the Sun, Mercury, Venus, the Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus. On a blue background, there is a pink crescent moon in front of a night sky with a river of yellow, orange, red, and pink flowing from the moon.

2023
Inkjet on paper, created in Procreate 

16 x 20

Image description: A digital painting of a group of hands reaching upward from the bottom part of the frame against a dark purple background. From the hands emanates a glowing, fluid heart made from a variety of colors.

2023 

Inkjet on paper 

16 x 20 

Image description: A painting of a woman wearing orange hanbok, dancing so the light fabrics sweep up and around her. The woman is encased inside a dark bamboo forest where only a few echos can escape. 

March 2023
Poem 

Artist statement:

This poem is dedicated to a young girl in my hometown losing her vision.

Poem text:

Dear Future Blind Girl,

Human biology was my least favorite subject in middle school.

I began learning about proteins, phenotypes, and Punnett Squares,

and I wondered how such perfect textbook examples

translated into a body that grows old, gets injured, burns in the sun

…or whose eyes barely function.

You see, people like me are in biology textbooks,

but as examples of mutations, genetic abnormalities, deviations from the norm.

You’ll learn very quickly that people are afraid of blindness,

more so than cancer, HIV, or Alzheimer’s.  

To many, everything seems impossible without sight.

When doctors first shared your diagnosis,

They likely emphasized how you would no longer be able to drive,

read magazines, play softball, or become a surgeon.

Your parents probably lay awake at night

wondering how you will ever go to college or even cross the street.

So many are terrified of living a life like mine.

But after twenty years of this unusually blurry reality,

here’s my advice to you:

Do not listen to them.

Don’t get me wrong.

I’m not here to share “inspirational” stories about blind people

who climbed Mount Everest or performed at Carnegie Hall.

Because contrary to what television news specials will tell you,

they didn’t overcome a nearly insurmountable tragedy.

Blindness, I’ve discovered, is a way of living.

A way of interacting with the world through sound and touch.

Through the tapping of a white cane,

Recognizing traffic patterns,

Identifying the distance and direction of whirling cars by sound alone,

Meticulously counting doors, rows, steps, and curbs,

Searching for the familiar scent of a popcorn stand or your favorite coffee shop,

Feeling the strong pull of a faithful guide dog,

All unique, innovative ways of adapting to an inaccessible world.

You’ll discover that there is beauty, power, and culture in our technologies.

Though they were never mentioned in your US history class,

blind people have been thriving for decades,

refining these tools and techniques,

rrganzanzing conventions, lobbying on Capitol Hill, and creating community

Passing along their wisdom to future generations.

Trust me, you will not be alone.

You may not see the pink and orange tinge of a setting sun on the beach.

But you will hear the crashing waves,

feel the sand between your toes,

inhale the salty seashore air,

And who is to say that is any less beautiful?

So future blind girl,

whether your vision becomes blurry, nonexistent, or magically restored.

Know that there is beauty in a world without sight. 

October 2023 

Inkjet on paper 

Image description: A painting of a Korean mythical figure, Jiknyeo, running over the bridge of birds that support her with flying. Surrounding her are brightly colored brush strokes and long sweeping hair. She is on her way to meet her groom (who is not pictured) once every 7 years on the 7th day of July. 

Oil on canvas

2024 

30 x 40 

This piece is a call to see ourselves in the reflection of mother earth, and the divinity within us is mother earth. Our “selves” are not just who we are but the divine acting through us. The same force that created the ocean, skies, and mountains is us. The portrait looks up to the three bodies stretching into the past, present future, just as we reflect on our lives. Her hair is the memory of earth and rivers that run through our world. This piece was one of the first sparks in the artist’s journey of spiritual expansion and creative renaissance. 

Image description: A painting of a brown-skinned woman staring off into the distance against a dark, hazy background. She wears a brown and blue headwrap and a silver dangly earring shaped like a spiral. A spectre is above the subject's head. 

2023 

Color paper with Modpodge on canvas

10 x 20 

This piece is a memory of an accident the artist experienced, resulting in a complete break of her right femur. The old form shattered and created space for radical change, physically and spiritually. The form represents this memory and the suddenness of losing control. Yet, the colors shine brighter with the shadow of pain. With a break, and the catalyst opened.

Image description: A painting of a woman's body as a white silhouette sprawled in the center of a neon rainbow background shaped like a sunburst. Each color in the sunburst connects to a matching square or rectangle embedded in the woman's shoulders, torso, hips, and legs.

2023 
Knitted wall hanging

Image description: A knitted wall hanging with the colors of the disability pride flag. On top, black images of a heart, smiley face, music symbols, pills, syringe, cane, book, wheelchair, and griffin. In white and black text it reads: "Celebrate Disabled Joy."

Mixed media 

100 pieces 

In the lead up to the exhibit, DC Public Library and Georgetown University’s Disability Cultural Center hosted a variety of Disability Culture Maker Spaces and Art Labs for anyone to contribute to this collaborative art installation. Members of the community created pieces answering the question, “What does disability joy mean to you?”

Image description:
One hundred five-inch by five-inch squares hung in a rectangular wood frame. Each square is distinctly different in style, with a variety of colors and textures. The media on display include painting, collage, photography, laser cut wood, photography, text, and hand sewing.

Art by Isabella Liu, Denny Okudinani, Saadwi Balaji, Marlena Chertock, DeVonte Capers, TL Waddell, Ricky II, Amy Kenny, Ioana Zanchi, Sarah Craig, Sabina Patawaran, Sara Pasowicz, Madeleine Goldfarb, A. Z., Jackie Liu, Xuan Zhang, Lily Robertson, Chloe Smith, Bella A., Cynthia Rodriguez, Shanice A., T. L., Isabella Trewhella, Jade S., MA GR, Sophia Lindsay, Dana F., August Rose, P. J., Robin B., H. L., Deborah McKinney, Jillian Bante, Kate K., Jenny Cavallero, Jessica Wallach, Katherine Radt, Arlie H., Evan Bianchi, Ariella Raissakirana Wijayanti, Natalie Gustin, Shawn P., A. B., Jen White Johnson, E. S., Ave Rieger, and many who wished to remain anonymous. Special thanks to Art Enables for their contributions.