Guest post from the very special veteran "non-viewer" Janni Lehrer-Stein

The strange thing about being a blind person in an art museum is that I often feel like I am the exhibit.  People do stare at me, and often ask what I think I am doing there.

  

Well, the answer is simple.  I am there for the same reason as anyone else—to enjoy the art!  From there, things get a little more complicated.  I attend art exhibits at museums because I have loved art and art history for my entire life.  I have progressively lost my vision, and so I had the advantage of memory for many of the fine museums and exhibits that I had the privilege of visiting.  For me, visiting these museums again, even though I can no longer see most of the artwork housed there, is like seeing an old friend.  These museums are comfortable spaces for me, and with the right kind of assistance, I can use my very slight remaining vision and my memory and imagination to recreate the stunning pieces on display.

   

But many blind people have not had that advantage, and the issue is bigger than me.  My lifetime of advancing blindness, and my interaction with persons with many different disabilities has made clear to me that the disabled community is comprised of people with astonishing capability-born of the challenges they face simply to function in an ‘enabled’ society.  So, why not a blind person in an art museum?
   

Making the visual arts accessible is not so difficult.  For me, an audio guide that describes the composition and elements of the piece, as well as its place in art history, is a necessity.  While the regular audio guides, that add voices from the curator and general background about the genre are interesting, an intense description is for me, the means for actually visualizing a painting or sculpture.   The ability to handle art pieces that are durable enough to be touched provides so much sensory information, since blind people become expert at discerning tactile details.  Being able to trace the outlines of a face sculpted by Rodin was a thrill for me, both because I was touching the very work crafted by the hands of such a master, and because using my hands enabled me to understand the features.
   

But access to the artwork is just part of the issue when it comes to my visiting a museum.  Sometimes the museum spaces are confusing, or even dangerous to someone using a cane.  Sometimes lighting has to be dim to protect the artwork, making pathways even more difficult to traverse.  So lighting, pathway markings, and large, high contrast signs would be a luxury that would make a museum visit much easier for me.
   

There is no doubt that persons with disabilities wish to and should be included in all aspects of culture in modern society, including visual art.  I have been greeted at museums by docents and guards who embrace me, and are anxious to include me.  I have also been treated with disdain and disbelief for having the nerve to venture into a gallery or museum with my cane.  Ultimately, if there is one concept that would be most meaningful to a person challenged by disability who wishes to enjoy art just like anyone else, it would be the simple expression of respect.  So, next time you see me, or someone else with a white cane in an art museum, do me a favor.  Don’t stare—describe.  I am positive that the resulting exchange of information and ideas will benefit us all.