How Accessible is the Commercial Art Market for Disabled Artists?

The last couple of years have seen an increase in public recognition for disabled artists in the UK. In December, Nnena Kalu became the first learning-disabled artist to win the Turner Prize. This spring and summer are seeing a slew of exhibitions in London featuring disabled artists: from the group show Flare-Up at Goldsmiths CCA, to major retrospectives at Tate Modern of Tracey Emin and Frida Kahlo, both of whose long-term health struggles have been well documented. During the period 2023–26, the disability-led organisation DASH has been partnering with galleries across the UK to bring disabled curators into mainstream visual arts institutions through a residency called Future Curators Programme. Yet increased visibility within the arts doesn’t necessarily translate to greater accessibility. The aforementioned programmes are also exclusively taking place in publicly funded galleries; which doesn’t automatically guarantee commercial success or a direct correlation with the wider art market.

Despite having widespread success in the public sector, artist and writer Abi Palmer has found the commercial side less straightforward to navigate in terms of access, often prioritising selling her work independently rather than seeking gallery representation. One undeniable obstacle is the emphasis on networking, she tells me, which locks out anyone who is unable to physically show up or who has challenges around verbal communication or processing. As Palmer stresses, commercial galleries are by and large not in physically accessible buildings, tucked away in hard-to-reach areas, up long flights of stairs, with no step-free access. Unable to navigate these environments in her wheelchair, she says, means her ability to access a space can begin and end with “very literally getting in the room”. Artist Becky Beasley, meanwhile, has had commercial representation since 2006, and still describes difficulty with navigating social dynamics and networking opportunities. “I don’t network socially – and when I do I tend to say the wrong thing, and my autism creates contrary conversations – and that has most certainly affected my opportunities.”

Becky Beasley, A Gentle Man (Part II) (1975-2029), 2026 (installation view, QUAD, Derby). Photo: Nigel Green. Courtesy the artist

Public galleries are held to different standards than commercial ones in terms of accessibility. There have been vital interventions by disabled artists within the public sector that have instilled change, such as disability-led open-access resources, including the free-to-use Accessibility in the Arts: A Promise and a Practice, a guide developed by Carolyn Lazard, and Access Docs for Artists, a website created by Leah Clements, Lizzy Rose and Alice Hattrick to support artists in writing documents that communicate their access needs at the start of a working relationship. As Palmer highlights, Arts Council England’s ten-year strategy, titled Let’s Create, explicitly “prioritises disabled lives and needs” by implementing a standard of accessibility that has to be adhered to, at least to some extent. Organisations “have to be somewhat accessible to be valid and therefore that opens doors to me”. Of course, this is not to say access barriers do not exist in the public sphere. The need for successful funding bids to hit certain diversity quotas can lead to disingenuous promises that fail to extend into the wider infrastructures behind the scenes; which can reduce artists to a tick box, as Palmer tells me. With the public sector placing a heavy reliance on highly competitive and oversubscribed open calls and fundraising, there is also a strong emphasis on unpaid work that isn’t guaranteed to lead somewhere (an even greater risk when you have limited energy and capacity to work, as is the case for many disabled people).

To facilitate a nuanced understanding of disability and genuine investment in access, Beasley points to the need for “more disabled, equity- and justice-motivated leaders”, which includes “more out disabled and neurodivergent private benefactors and collectors”. Contributing to that shift in leadership is William Lunn, founder of Copperfield, London . Lunn is open about how his own neurodivergence has shaped his approach to his gallery, noting that he doubts he “could have started the gallery from nothing, with no backing, nor brought it to this point without a bit of neurospicy”. Just as with Palmer and Beasley, Lunn has had to work harder within a sector so heavily reliant on networking. Lunn “cannot remember names” and has “no normal concept of time”, which can be difficult in an “industry that seems to thrive on name-dropping and introductions”.

Abi Palmer, Slime Mother. Photo: Jules Lister. Courtesy the artist and Goldsmiths CCA

On the flip side, Lunn’s neurodivergence provides him with unique skills and talents that are invaluable for his position: “As I’ve got older I have realised that my mind can also do things that many other people's cannot.” The positive ways neurodivergence can bring about creativity and innovative thinking are exactly what Lunn hoped to highlight in the 2024 group show Intension, which brought together neurodivergent artists. Though prior to the show Lunn hadn’t “set out to work with neurodivergent artists”, he recounts that “they make such great work that they have turned out, on review, to make up the greater part of our programming”. For Lunn, the message of Intension was simple: “The next time you are standing in front of a really powerful artwork wondering how on earth they even conceived of the idea, consider that the maker’s mind might work totally differently to many around you. And celebrate it.”

Just as with Intension, reframing the way disability is understood in the commercial sector seems to be half the battle. Within society, disability still by and large carries negative connotations: evoking associations of limitation and restriction. Publicly identifying as disabled can actually impede an artist’s progression, as reflected by Beasley: “Coming out as autistic has definitely had a negative impact on my network relationships and opportunities.” Palmer, echoing this sentiment, comments, “[In the commercial sector], disabled bodies and lives and experiences aren’t revered.” Definitions and frameworks of disability that are becoming more commonplace in the UK’s public sector – such as the social model of disability, which argues that a person isn’t hindered by their disability, but rather by societal and attitudinal barriers in society – haven’t necessarily reached commercial entities. While many disabled artists are making multifaceted, nuanced work both related to their lived experience and beyond, Palmer underlines that there is still “a stigma around it that isn’t palatable”.

Intension, 2024 (installation view, Copperfield Gallery). Photo: Gillies Adamson Semple. Courtesy the artists and Copperfield, London

The commercial sector might look to some of the research and conversations already stemming from the publicly funded sector: the breadth of advocacy work being largely led by disabled artists, such as through the previously noted open-access resources. Some of that learning will come from trial and error, when directly supporting disabled and neurodivergent artists, as Lunn found when curating Intension. When I spoke to writer and curator Lisa Slominski, who is currently completing a PhD that engages with notions of agency, identity and representation through the work of Nnena Kalu, she emphasises key questions and concepts she returns to that can be a helpful jumping-off point. Namely, “How can we speak alongside rather than for an artist,” and “Agency is relational. It is enabled – or constrained – through individuals, relationships, networks and structures.” As Lunn stresses, “We need a less ‘one size fits all’ approach.” Both point to the need for improving accessibility directly with disabled artists, which mirrors a central slogan of the disability-rights movement: nothing about us without us. And what happens when disabled perspectives are centred and celebrated? Well, in the words of Lunn, “The tradeoff for society and the artworld for a little more understanding, a little more tolerance and a little more support is great art and unusual perspectives.”