While reading Design Meets Disability, I found myself thinking about the tension between discretion and visibility in design for disability. The idea that glasses have successfully transitioned from being a purely functional medical device to a fashionable accessory made me wonder whether this will also happen for hearing aids or prosthetics. Are we, as a society, more comfortable with visible “disabilities” like poor eyesight because they’ve been normalized for centuries? If so, what would it take for other assistive devices to undergo a similar transformation? I thought about a friend’s reluctance to wear a brace for a sprained wrist in high school—she felt like it felt like it called too much attention to itself, even though it was helping her heal. Why does function often have to feel like a trade-off with self-expression?
The discussion of the Eames leg splint also sparked questions about the role of aesthetics in design born out of necessity. I found it very interesting how such a utilitarian object could later inspire iconic furniture. Does this mean that every functional object has hidden potential for beauty, or does it require someone with a particular eye to uncover it? It made me think about the way my grandfather modified his walking cane to reflect his personality—adding small carvings and even painting parts of it to make it less clinical. Could design for disability embrace more of this individuality from the start? The reading left me questioning not just how we design for diverse bodies, but how we might better celebrate the creativity that comes from these constraints.