Tired Is Also Data: On Queer Disabled Visions, Safety, and Organisational Responsibility

Self Portrait at Live Art Ireland

The title of this program, organized by Live Art Ireland—“Cultivating Queer Disabled Visions”—suggests a space where disabled and queer people can imagine otherwise, together. A space where we might rest, dream, and experiment with new ways of being in relation to land, to each other, and to our own bodies.

But cultivating vision, especially for disabled and chronically ill people, is not just about inspiration. It’s about infrastructure.

To truly support queer disabled visions, an art program must be built on responsibilities, not rhetoric. That includes:

• Clear and honest communication about capacity and limits.

• Accessibility is built into the design, not added as an afterthought.

• Emotional and physical safety is taken seriously.

• Flexible time structures that acknowledge fluctuating energy

• Systems of support when people become unwell.

• A willingness to listen, repair, and adjust when harm occurs.

In this program, the language of care was very present. The responsibility of care was not.

From the moment of arrival, it became apparent that the conditions required for deep collective visioning—especially among disabled artists—were not in place. The gap between text and reality was wide. What had been framed as a sanctuary felt precarious at many points.

I spent much of my time unwell, alone, and trying to manage my health within a container that was not built to hold it. Instead of being resourced to create, I found myself navigating anxiety, unaddressed needs, and a continuous sense of misalignment between what was promised and what was happening.

Self Portrait at Live Art Ireland

There is a particular kind of fatigue that comes from this pattern. Many disabled artists will recognise it:

• We apply to programs that appear to be designed for us.

• We arrive and discover we must perform the labor the institution should have already done.

• We are pushed into advocacy roles when we should be allowed to rest, create, and participate.

• We leave more depleted than when we came.

  
  

This is not an individual failure. It is systemic. It reflects an art world fluent in the vocabulary of inclusion but often unwilling to build the infrastructures that inclusion requires.

As an Indigenous artist committed to decolonizing my practice, I regularly question institutions. But this residency forced me to confront something even more intimate: how much I’ve been conditioned to override my own exhaustion just to access spaces that claim to be made for me.

I have kept saying yes to programs that signal alignment through 'the right' language while remaining structurally unchanged. I have kept hoping “this time will be different,” even when my body warns otherwise.

The truth is: I am tired.

And that tiredness is not personal weakness. Tiredness is data. It is data that institutions must treat as actionable—data that reveals:

• Language alone is never enough.

• Organizational structures must shift, not just their messaging.

• Disabled artists deserve transparency before committing their limited energy.

• Naming harm is not ingratitude; it is accountability.

I did not find “healing pleasure.” I did not encounter “pathways to resilience.” I did not experience a sanctuary built on joy or nourishment.

What I encountered instead was a clear example of how art organisations can deploy the language of disability and queerness without committing to the responsibilities those frameworks demand.

It is uncomfortable to name this. It is also necessary.

If queer disabled visions are to be more than marketable themes, then organisations must move beyond poetic statements and into structural transformation. They must treat disabled fatigue, disabled boundaries, and disabled needs as essential information—not inconveniences, but data that reveals where care must be built.

Because what happened here fell short. And the impact of that failure was felt in our bodies. Our communities deserve structures worthy of our trust. We deserve art spaces that recognise our tiredness as truth—because exhaustion carries data the organisation must learn from.