Blog: July 2010 • Colin Hambrook

Talking to David Dixon is a bit like standing on your head. He is an artist who explodes with ideas and connections in the way he thinks about and develops his work. I asked him about his artistic practice, where the relationship with science comes into it and how he perceives it in terms of disability.

There is a notion of disability arts that has evolved from the history of its practice that is perceived as being about fixed notions of what you can and can’t do and say. David says: “I’ve always felt a sense of fear that I will say the wrong thing with regards to disability arts. I’ve only got one leg, so putting my foot in my mouth can be a serious matter.”

Personally I think that the cut and dried impetus to wrap disability in a ball and put it on a plate is changing.  Disability arts in the past could be accused of being too one-focussed – but I think that now through the work of contemporary visual artists like David Dixon, Noemi Lakmaier, and Jon Adams – artists who refuse to define themselves or their work by disability alone – that singular definition is changing.

Like all art forms disability arts has to evolve – even perhaps lose itself entirely. The world is in a consistent state of flux and art needs to reflect that change if it is to persist with any kind of relevance. I asked David about his journey through the maze in relation to the D word: “For the most part I always considered myself to be an artist who happens to be disabled. I didn’t want to focus on myself in my creative practice. My approach has always been much more about an investigation into the world and the human context that arises from the world. We have to understand what the world is and how it behaves in order to understand who and what we are. These relations are very much intermingled.”

“However two years ago the idea of the disabled person’s engagement with the world came up in conversation. I realised that the disabled person has a sharpened awareness of things. For instance because I have a prosthetic leg I notice floors a lot more than the average person. I am aware of the slightest incline. Whether surfaces are slippy or smooth matters is important, because of my disability.”

“At that point I became aware, almost accidentally, that disability came into my work as a vehicle for understanding. I became interested in the idea of prosthesis as an extension of things. If you use a tool like a knife and fork, it’s separate from you. But when you’re wearing a prosthesis, it’s not flesh and blood, but is more like an extension of who you are. When you have this extension it not only draws attention to, but enhances the idea of where one thing stops, and another begins. It asserts it and negates it at the same time, in a paradoxical way. I realised that when I use books and dust in my installations there is a sense in which they reference the idea of prosthesis – in the way for instance that printed word has created new interpretations of written text.”

A theme in David’s work is about boundaries, perceived and imagined. It is very much influenced by the understanding of the world that has emerged from quantum physics. The more the written word tries to define our relationship to the world through creating a prosthetic extension of consciousness, so the more we face the collapse of the idea of definite objects. Physics has called perceived boundaries between subject and object into question. The world consistently refuses to be defined as one thing or another. And the interesting thing that scientists engaged with measuring the world have come to face, is that the act of taking measurement explains more about the tools that are used, rather than substantiating any solid fact.

David says: “There is an undercurrent in all my work that rails against the absolute value of things. It’s like there is a constant internal series of banner marches and protests about the error in viewing the world in a fixed way. Entrenched points of view always seem to lead to bigotry and marginalisation.”

“If we look at things as interdependent then that sense of identification with fixed values collapses. It can create a breeding ground for people to be good to each other out of respect for the fact that there is no one truth. Sometimes differences can’t be resolved. They just have to be accepted and reviewed from a position of tolerance.”

Lastly I asked David about his experience of being part of Dada-Exchange: “It was a tremendous experience. The fact that disability wasn’t a focus, gave us a passport to being able to go where we needed to go with our discussions. It meant we could bring a much more open critique to the table.
Barriers in peoples’ lives came up as a part of our discussions, but because we weren’t focusing on these difficulties it gave us much more licence to talk positively about professional aspirations and how to make things happen.”

Our conversation ended in a similar place to where it began, critiquing disability arts as a tool for campaigning about inclusion and equality. There is a careful balance to be maintained.

I think that taking an ‘us and them’ stance just reinforces distinctions and differences, rather than creating the conditions for what you want to achieve. David always has a good quote at the ready: “As Bruce Lee used to say ‘It is like a finger pointing toward the moon. Don't concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory.’”