Never Enough Time

Introduction to the artist: My name is Christopher Samuel.

I am an artist whose practice is rooted in identity and disability politics, often echoing the many facets of my own lived experience.

Through my artistic practice, I seek to interrogate my own personal understanding of my identity as a black British disabled person impacted by multiple inequalities and marginalisation.

I respond with urgency, humour, and poetic subversiveness to make my work more accessible to a wider audience, allowing others to identify with and relate to a wider spectrum of the human experience.

Caption/Audio Description:

Photo: Christopher (aged 4) with his Mum sitting in a park in South London, circa. 1983. Christopher is standing wearing a striped t-shirt and jeans shorts holding a lollipop in his hand and his mum is sitting next to him on the grass.]

This paper is called Never Enough Time.

Within this paper, I'm going to talk about how time, disability, education and working as an artist all interact.

I'm the eldest of three siblings.

I had a normal birth, but my mum knew something wasn't quite right from when I was very young.

I didn't start walking until I was two, and my mum noticed I was falling over a lot.

I would get easily fatigued and I also complained of being in quite a lot of pain, a lot of the time.

She went to various doctors who told her she was ‘an overzealous young woman who didn't know what she was talking about’, and that I was ‘just a lazy child’.

But she continued to push.

I was at primary school when finally, with the support of a teacher who wrote a letter to support my mum, the medical professionals started to listen.

I was eventually diagnosed as having a neurological disease called Charcot Marie-Tooth (CMT for short) which affects my muscles and nerves.

Caption/Audio Description:

Christopher, aged nine, is sat on the sofa with a science book in his lap. He is hiding his hands which are folded in the photo.

Within the letter it reads, ‘Christopher is a very determined young man who has made a conscious decision to resist the effects of his condition as much as he can. He refuses to accept the term disabled and rejects any connotations of it’.]

Shortly after being diagnosed with CMT, I was forced out of mainstream school and into a special school.

My primary school teacher and social worker both pitched the special school to my mum as a place where I could thrive—that I would not have to worry about being different there, and I would have the right support around me that would empower me.

But it became clear very quickly to my mum and to me that this place was (in my mum's own words) ‘a dumping ground’ for disabled children and children who have been expelled from other schools around the borough.

In this school, there was no attempt to deliver an academic curriculum to us.

Any academic work that we were given was way below what we could do or should have been doing.

We spent all our time playing with sand, or making cakes, or drawing.

All of which are not negative in themselves—but this was all we were expected to do.

This was the beginning of an unhealthy relationship with education, local authorities and people in positions of power for me.

It reflected how at this time and historically disabled people's time wasn't valued.

We were there to be kept occupied, and kept out of the way, rather than to be educated as individual children with ambitions, aspirations, and our own skills.

When I was at a mainstream primary school I was a good student and kept up with my peers.

At the special school, there was a lack of expectation that we could follow a normal curriculum—with or without additional support.

We were collectively expected not to want to learn.

Hopefully, some of these attitudes and practices have changed since I was at school.

Caption/Audio Description:

Image: A scan of Christopher's old yellow social services Certificate of Registration card.

Christopher is aged 15 in the photo on the card.

He is being registered as a disabled person under the Chronic Sick and Disability Act 1970 by Brent Council.]

My mum kept pushing for me to be moved from the special school.

I wasn't learning, and it was not a healthy environment for any child to be in.

After an incident involving a teacher kicking me, my Mum eventually removed me and homeschooled me for 3 years while fighting to get me into a mainstream secondary school.

Eventually, after contacting a local MP, the ombudsman, and a solicitor, my mum won and I got accepted into a mainstream secondary school the year before I started up my GCSEs.

This school was the only secondary school in the whole of the borough that would accept me as a student as it was the only local school with a lift!

The school expected me to fall in with the existing normal curriculum and timetable.

But several years of not learning at the special school and then homeschooling had put me on the back foot.

It meant I was always trying to catch up educationally, and I felt like I was being left behind.

It was good the school had high expectations for me, but there was a lack of adaptation, consideration or adjustment for my physical and educational needs provided.

I was always late to classes because I moved slower, which always felt like it was my fault.

I was way behind educationally and I was embarrassed to ask for help.

So I fell further and further behind.

I was happy that I was finally in an environment that I thought was a normal environment.

I was really enjoying being able to socialise with other children my age from different backgrounds.

I was just happy to be a teenager and to be making friends and building friendships.

But I could not keep up academically, so I started acting up and skipping school.

Reflecting back on what I think it would have taken for me to want to learn and to feel supported, I needed a teacher to both push but also support me in areas that I was behind with.

More one-to-one time would have enabled me to catch up and would have changed my relationship with education.

By the time it came to my GCSEs I was really worried about what was waiting for me after leaving school.

Caption/Audio Description:

Image: A black & white pen & ink drawing by Christopher Samuel….

‘Side Entrance (2022)’

A drawing of a narrow alleyway with a backpack at the end of the alleyway and a car in the distance.]

For a few years after leaving school, I tried to get lots of jobs with no success.

Because of my disability, employers felt I couldn't do what they needed, and they weren't willing to make adjustments to employ me.

I even tried to volunteer but nowhere would take me even as a volunteer!

So I tried to do some short courses—because I knew I needed some qualifications to get anywhere — but again I had no support so I didn't enjoy the courses.

All of my friends had moved on or were working, and I was becoming increasingly isolated.

My relationship with education up until this point had been one of embarrassment, fear and a lack of trust with educators.

It wasn't until I spent an extended period in hospital and I had to talk with a counsellor, that one counsellor suggested that I look into training as a counselling therapist.

I did a series of short courses, then went onto do a diploma in counselling which I really enjoyed.

Having some support made the difference.

Caption/Audio Description:

Two images from a work by Christopher Samuel titled ‘My Family (2017)’

The work is a square ceramic plate with glass and copper and pewter objects on it, representing different family members and their places in the family]

After finishing my counselling course I ended up back in hospital for another long stay.

By the time I left the hospital, I wasn't in the right place to pick up the counselling.

One day a prospectus came through my door for a local college which supported disabled students.

I looked and I wasn't sure but it said ‘if you aren't sure, come in for an interview we can discuss possible options’—so I did, and I signed up for an art and design course which was again completely alien to me.

I hadn't done anything creative since primary school.

My lecturers and teachers pushed me but also supported me.

They enabled me and empowered me.

This was my first real experience of someone having academic expectations of me in a healthy way.

This is what I consider best practice.

The penny dropped for me when I had to draw a self-portrait.

Up until that point I did everything I could not to draw because I was afraid of being disappointed.

But I did a drawing—and it looked like me!

This changed the whole trajectory for me.

From that point on I immersed myself fully into reading about and creating art—a passion which transcended the fear to try which had immobilised me before.

I chose to make things that I could do independently like drawings which I could do in great detail.

I completed the 2-year B-TEC Diploma in Art and Design in 1 year.

I did a foundation course then I did a degree in Fine Art at Leicester University, which was the only accessible university that already had practical and academic support in place for disabled students—not only on the campus but within student halls.

Staying in student halls was a big thing for me, because I wanted to have that life experience.

I was the first person in my family to go to university, and graduated with a First.

Caption/Audio Description:

Christopher Samuel ‘Unrequited Bond (2017)’.

Photograph of an artwork. It is a series of plaster casts of medicine dosette boxes laid out in a square format.]

My condition affects my energy levels.

I am in pain most of the time and it takes me more time, effort and energy to do physical things.

University pushed me and I was often ill trying to keep up with the timetable.

Time and energy are often limited resources as a disabled person.

University was a catalyst for me to realise what I would need to put in place once I left, to help me function on a somewhat equal footing within the art world.

As a practising artist, I knew I would need help with writing applications for example.

I knew I needed help making connections with galleries.

I knew I needed to apply for Access to Work support to make the work.

I needed advice on how that all would affect my benefits.

Caption/Audio Description:

Christopher Samuel ‘Housing Crisis (2018)’

A series of white framed black and white prints of redacted text hanging along a corridor.]

In 2018, I was made homeless when I left university, as two councils fought over whose responsibility it was to house me and to provide me with personal care.

I made ‘Housing Crisis’ in response.

I used redacted emails and letters I received to show how time can be weaponised against the disabled person.

The work exposes how laws were weaponised against me to protect the interests of the two local authorities while I was stuck in the middle of it and at my most vulnerable.

Caption/Audio Description:

A black & white pen & ink drawing by Christopher Samuel….

‘The Blue Bus (2023)’

‘Ableism’ expects everybody to be able to conform to the same social norms, and to behave, work or learn in the same way.

It doesn't make considerations for people who might need to work in a different way, or need information in a different way, or need additional support to reach the same goal.

In the arts sector, deadlines, timescales and the text-heavy processes that dominate are fixed and are not equally accessible to everyone.

Often it seems if you are not able to engage with those formats or processes then you are the problem.

There is a shift happening towards being more inclusive and less ableist in the art sector.

More conversations are happening around individual needs and other ways of working within the institutions and organisations.

Conversations around accessibility, adaptation and providing support are happening more.

But this is still a very time-pressured sector, and deadlines are often very short.

I know the demands on my time are always very pressured and people don't always see all the work that goes on behind the scenes to live as a disabled person in an able-bodied world.

Which is where my title came from—Never Enough Time—for this paper.

Time has become a theme that runs throughout my work.

While I was at college and university I often used my drawing as a way of processing feelings relating to mortality, time being fleeting, and my changing self-identity as I changed and how I interacted with the world around me changed.

Caption/Audio Description:

Christopher Samuel: The Archive of an Unseen (2022).

An image of a man sitting in front of a colourful microform reader, which looks like a large computer on a desk. On the screen of the reader is a video of Christopher speaking to camera.]

As my practice has developed I have become more interested in the lack of representation of disabled people within museums, archives and cultural spaces.

I have worked with several big organisations, museums and archives over the last few years.

To not see yourself represented in such places suggests that those places are not for you and that your story does not matter.

If we do not capture certain experiences and stories now, and preserve them in our cultural institutions, then they will be lost or risk being represented in a way that is not authentic and is not based on lived experience.

There's a push happening right now to try and address those missing stories and try to write them back into our collective history.

The Archive of an Unseen was created for the Wellcome Collection in 2022.

It started with a research project asking ‘Am I represented in Welcome's Medical and Historical Archives?’ - which I found I wasn't.

This artwork was my response to that gap.

I began by doing research into my own history; collecting documents, finding stories and interviewing people about my family's past.

I quickly realised how many people saw things differently over time, including myself looking back, viewing through their own lenses.

The work has a way of showing how time has shifted things in memories and attitudes.

Something which became really important were the documents that had been kept by my mum and by my hospitals, and how they validated my experience and memories.

Caption/Audio Description:

Christopher Samuel: The Archive of an Unseen (2022).

Three images of The Archive being exhibited at the Attenborough Arts Centre.

The gallery walls are white with black lines that make geometric shapes, filled with blocks of colour, orange, pink, yellow, blue.

The microform reader sits on a desk with a white chair in the middle of the room.

On the screen of the reader is an old photo of a blue school bus.]

I used my research to build my own archive which is made up of photos, videos, documents and sections of narrative.

The content is centred around my living experience growing up, and how the medical gaze and social model affected my life.

It is all housed in a custom-built microform reader which visitors can explore chronologically or through themes such as education, hospitals and family.

Caption/Audio Description:

Everywhere and Nowhere (2022)

Research Centre for Museums and Galleries at the University of Leicester, the National Trust, and Belle Vue Productions.

A still from a film. It is an image of a portrait of Henry VIII with the words ‘Disability’ and ‘Power’ written across it and redacted.]

Everywhere and Nowhere was a project I worked on with the Research Centre for Museums and Galleries and the National Trust to identify and highlight historical stories of disability with connections to National Trust sites and collections.

I was drawn to working on this project because it was about representation and the importance of preserving and sharing untold stories that are at risk of being lost over time.

I started by being part of a steering group who advised on creating an ethical framework for working on this or similar projects.

We explored how the research was being carried out; with inclusivity and sensitivity, and an awareness of bias or historical prejudice.

And then how these stories might be reframed or retold going forward.

The project was to be research-centred and disabled-led.

I worked with the RCMG team to examine a long list of potential objects and stories with connections to disability histories which National Trust curators had identified.

Caption/Audio Description:

Everywhere and Nowhere (2022)

Research Centre for Museums and Galleries at the University of Leicester, the National Trust, and Belle Vue Productions.

A photo of Christopher on the film set of Everywhere and Nowhere.

There are three film-makers in the kitchen of a very old building with cameras and sound equipment.]

Often when people work with me as an disabled person or artist, my inclusion feels like an add-on.

But this project was a really good example of working collaboratively and inclusively.

The team asked to see my access rider from the very start.

They were all aware of my energy levels and time limitations.

They made time and space for me and all the other collaborators to contribute equally.

The collaborative process made allowance for people to change their minds and adapt, allowing multiple opinions and ways of working to co-exist.

We narrowed down the list of objects and stories to those with the most reliable historical evidence or research, and those with the clearest connections to disability history.

We explored different ways of telling the stories, and of addressing and discussing honestly the challenges in those stories—such as a lack of first-hand evidence or dealing with problematic themes.

The result is a 21-minute long film telling 10 stories of disability history that were at risk of being lost.

Accessibility was embedded in the planning of the film from the start.

The BSL interpreters were not additional, they were co-narrators, audio descriptions were included etc.

I think we produced a piece of work that is both sensitive and cutting edge.

It highlights the relationship between disability historically, and the conversations that still need to be had to shift cultural understanding of disability in a world that is still largely ableist.

The film was viewed over 1.1 million times in the first few weeks of its release.

Reactions were largely positive but inevitably mixed.

The strongest public and press reaction was to any suggestion that King Henry VIII was disabled—demonstrating the ongoing underlying social prejudice that royalty or successful or powerful people can't possibly be disabled, and labelling someone as disabled is an inherently bad thing; a slur.

But there has also been a lot of positive reaction from people, finally seeing people like themselves acknowledged and represented in important spaces.

In conclusion, writing this paper made me realise just how much time is at the heart of my work, even from the early days of my practice.

Over time I have learnt how important time management is for me in my everyday life and the local effect of that going wrong.

My time feels urgent, and I feel I need to make the best of it and that I have something to contribute.

And on that note, thank you for making time to read this.