Disability History Month 2024: Phoebe Kaniewska on creative healthcare; finding balance and using art as a wellbeing tool.
- Written byStudent Communications
- Published date 25 November 2024
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Phoebe Kaniewska is studying BA Sculpture at Camberwell College of Arts. She came to art school after working in healthcare for many years. After training as a midwife and working as a healthcare assistant, she had to step away due to her own health issues. This experience sparked her interest in community art, particularly using art as a tool to support others with similar experiences. We met with Phoebe in her studio to talk about her journey.
How has your background in healthcare influenced your art?
My healthcare background has influenced my art immensely. As a disabled artist, my health shapes my work, practice, and life. Art initially became my personal wellbeing tool—it was something grounding and healing for me. Over time, it’s evolved into a form of advocacy, helping me express my experiences and share them with others. Now, I use art to create understanding and provide similar tools for others going through health challenges.
Managing health while pursuing art sounds challenging. How do you approach this balance?
It’s a constant balancing act. There’s always a tension between wanting to dive into work and recognising my limits. I’ve learned to let my health and disability flow into my art rather than keeping them separate. If I’m feeling unwell, that often becomes a theme in my work. I’m also adapting my practice to be accessible for myself, allowing me to create both in the studio and at home, so on tougher days, I can still make art from my bed.
You also work as a resident artist in hospitals. Could you tell us more about that?
It’s such a pleasure and a privilege! I work with patients, staff, and visitors, offering creative activities that break up the clinical atmosphere. My goal is to give people a space to create in a way that feels accessible and meaningful to them. Recently, I’ve been helping patients make metal mobiles from recycled tin cans. It’s therapeutic for all of us—even if we don’t talk about illness directly, there’s a shared understanding that’s very comforting.
That sounds incredibly rewarding. Could you share some memorable experiences?
Every day holds beautiful moments. There’s something deeply fulfilling about seeing someone who didn’t think they were “creative” make something they’re proud of. They might start by saying, “I’m not an artist,” but by the end of our time together, they’ve created something meaningful. It’s powerful to see people leave a session feeling less alone or more connected to themselves through art.
How has art been therapeutic for you personally?
Art was essential in my journey to accept my disability. When I first got sick, I felt lost, and creating was the first thing that gave me structure and independence again. Art gave me purpose, helping me reclaim my sense of self. For others, I believe art can offer a safe way to process emotions or just bring a bit of joy and peace, whether that’s doodling in a notebook or stitching something meaningful for a loved one.
How do you approach accessibility in the workshops you facilitate?
My goal is to create workshops that are as accessible as possible. I think about each activity from participants' perspectives and ensure alternatives are available. I demonstrate activities multiple times and adapt the tasks, so they don’t feel overwhelming. If needed, we have a BSL interpreter, quiet spaces, nearby accessible toilets, and plenty of support on hand. It’s essential for me that everyone feels welcome and able to participate.
You recently co-curated an exhibition called “Poorly”. Could you tell us about that experience?
Yes! This past June, I co-curated an exhibition called “Poorly” in Peckham, featuring 35 artists with lived experiences of disability or illness. It was inspired by Virginia Woolf’s essay, On Being Ill, which notes the lack of a shared language around illness. We aimed to create a visual language through the artists’ work, forming a space that was intimate, safe, and inclusive. The response was overwhelming—so many people connected with the art and with each other, showing the profound need for these kinds of community shows.
This year’s Disability History Month’s theme is “livelihood and employability”, what are your thoughts on employability for disabled artists?
Navigating career paths as a disabled artist can feel daunting. When I first entered the arts, I thought my only options were teaching or something vocational. But I’ve since found a way to work on my terms as a freelancer, which allows flexibility for my health. I can have open conversations with employers about my needs, which benefits everyone. It’s empowering to share these possibilities with other disabled artists and advocate for inclusive workplaces.
For Disability History Month, what message would you like to share?
I’d love to highlight the importance of community and art within disability spaces. We need community to feel understood, supported, and less isolated. Art provides a language that words often can’t, especially when dealing with pain or complex feelings. I’m proud to be disabled and want to share that pride—disability isn’t just about the struggles. There’s joy, humour, and resilience, and art can express all those facets beautifully. I’m excited to lead a workshop for Disability History Month at UAL and hope to see many of you there. It’ll be a great space to explore art, community, and creativity in a way that celebrates disability and the unique perspectives it brings.