Design and Disability: V&A South Kensington
- Catherine Flutsch
- 15 minutes ago
- 3 min read
★★★★★
Exhibition Review:Design and Disability, Open until 15 February 2026. Tickets £16. Book tickets here.
[Disclosure: I attended the press preview on 4 June and receive the accompanying exhibition book, for free, for the purposes of this review.]
Over 1.3 billion people globally live with a disability*—yet they remain chronically underrepresented in the spaces where decisions are made: institutions, governments, workplaces, schools. While the world has made real strides in access and inclusion, recent years have seen worrying reversals. The pandemic, austerity measures, and regressive policy shifts have all chipped away at hard-won progress.
It is in this context that the V&A’s latest exhibition, Design and Disability (which opened yesterday), offers a welcome and timely intervention. Ambitious in scope yet grounded in personal stories, the exhibition explores the vital contributions of Disabled, Deaf, and neurodivergent designers, artists, and activists from 1940 to the present day.
Organised around three themes—Visibility, Tools, and Living—the exhibition spans fashion, architecture, photography, graphic design, and more. The Visibility section is a celebration of self-representation: Disabled makers articulating their own identities through zines, protest posters, fashion, and media - it's beautiful and inspiring.
But for me, it was Tools and Living that offered the most powerful insights.
In Tools, we witness the extraordinary ingenuity of people adapting and "hacking" their environments—not out of novelty, but necessity. Everyday tools are transformed to support access and autonomy: wheelchairs re-engineered, kitchen devices repurposed, even nutritional supplements like Huel (which I also use) are embraced for their time-saving simplicity.
Here, I was particularly struck by the concept of Crip Time—a framework that acknowledges how time is experienced and structured differently for Disabled people. Whether it’s navigating cities, health systems, or bureaucracy, time stretches, slows, or fragments in ways that design too often fails to account for. Recognising Crip Time invites all of us to reconsider our assumptions about productivity and efficiency.
Living, the exhibition’s final section, moves from the personal to the political—charting how Disabled people have not only imagined more inclusive futures but fought to bring them into being. Through design, protest, and reimagining public space, these visionaries have redefined what inclusion can look like. For me, one of the most powerful works in this section is Assume That I Can, a joyous, multi-layered ad campaign launched by CoorDown for World Down Syndrome Day 2025. The film champions the right to be involved in decisions that shape one’s life. Its message—“No decision without us”—resonates well beyond the Down syndrome community.
The exhibition’s physical layout is also worth noting. As someone who doesn’t currently identify as Disabled (though I once had to relearn how to walk after illness), I appreciated the many small but meaningful accommodations: benches to rest, ample signage, generous spaces to reflect. Often, inclusivity is framed as something we do for others. But this exhibition reminds us that we all benefit from a world that welcomes difference.
It also raises an essential point: to be differently abled and to want to participate in public life is, by default, to be an activist. Every ramp, every accessible website, every sign language interpreter is there because someone fought for it. We owe thanks to the courageous advocates who paved the way—and to those still fighting.
True inclusivity isn’t charity—it’s strategy. In a world facing existential threats from climate change, poverty, and pandemics, we need everyone’s ideas at the table. Excluding large swaths of humanity from education, employment, or civic life isn’t just unjust—it’s deeply wasteful. One arresting piece by the #EducationNotExclusion collective lays this bare: 12-year-olds excluded from school are four times more likely to be incarcerated—a human and economic cost we can no longer afford to ignore.
Design and Disability doesn’t pretend to be definitive; it acknowledges the sheer scale and complexity of the topic. But in doing so, it offers something even more valuable: a way forward. A more just world is possible—if we listen, if we include, and if we design with everyone in mind.
Feature image Rebirth Garments. Photo by Colectivo Multipolar.
Unless otherwise stated, all photos ©️ Catherine Flutsch 2025.
Thank you to everyone who reached out during my blogging break. I've been focused on my role as CEO of Ark T, a much-loved charity that supports mental health and wellbeing through creativity and the arts. You can support our work by donating here. ❤️
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