Designs make wheelchairs a work of art

By Louise Kinross

Izzy Wheels is a business that sells designer spoke guards created by Irish sisters Ailbhe and Izzy Keane. Izzy uses a wheelchair. Growing up, she loved her wheels, but it bothered her that they didn’t reflect her personality and style. When Ailbhe was at design school, she was tasked with creating something to enhance the lives of people of people with disabilities. She and Izzy brainstormed, and came up with art-decorated spoke guards. After Ailbhe graduated, the women created a business. Ailbhe works at Izzy Wheels full time, while Izzy balances her university studies with part-time work there. BLOOM interviewed them both by e-mail.

BLOOM: What bothered you about wheelchair design in the past?

Izzy Keane: The thing that bothered me before Izzy Wheels was that it was really difficult for me to visually portray to the world the positive relationship I have with my wheelchair. Until I put on my first pair of customizable spoke guards, my wheelchair looked like a lump of metal made in a hospital. To me it has always been so much more than that. I’ve always wanted the opportunity to make my chair look nice, as a sign of respect to it. Now at first glance people know that I love my wheelchair.

BLOOM: Do spoke guards have a function?

Izzy Keane: Spoke guards protect the wheels of a wheelchair from being damaged and now, thanks to Izzy Wheels, they act as a means to enhance a wheelchair user’s outfit.

BLOOM: How did Ailbhe come up with the idea of creating stylish spoke guards in her art program?

Ailbhe Keane: My sister Isabel has been in a wheelchair all her life and growing up it really frustrated her that she didn't have a way of customizing it. When I was in my final year in the National College of Art and Design, I was offered the opportunity to undertake a self-directed project to 'Enhance the lives of people living with a long term, lifestyle related health condition.’ As soon as I came across it, I knew that it was the perfect opportunity to incorporate my knowledge of my sister’s disability into my work and Izzy Wheels was born! After I graduated from college I decided to turn my project into a business.

BLOOM: What are the spoke guards made of and how is the design put on? Are they for kid and adult chairs?

Ailbhe Keane: The spoke guards are made from plastic with very high quality finishing so that they are very easy to wipe down and clean. They have velcro straps at the back to fasten the spoke guards to the wheels of the wheelchair. Yes, the product comes in three different sizes to cater to children, teenagers and adults.

BLOOM: How do you find artists to design them?

Ailbhe Keane: As a graphic designer myself I have a lot of friends and valuable contacts in the art world. I spend time looking through artists’ previous work to see if I feel that it fits in with the style and ethos of Izzy Wheels. We also get messages from designers all over the world who have seen our work and want to be part of our upcoming collections.

BLOOM: What is the range of cost? Do you ship internationally?

Ailbhe Keane: Yes we ship internationally. The spoke guards come as a pair, one for each wheel and cost between €119 (CDN$180) and €139 (CDN$211).

BLOOM: What is your best-selling design? Does Izzy have a personal favourite?

Izzy Keane: All of our designs are extremely popular. Currently our best seller is the rainbow mandala. Personally, I don’t have a favourite design, as each of the sets coordinates with a different outfit from my extremely colourful wardrobe!

BLOOM: How do you feel differently when you’re out wearing these spoke guards?

Izzy Keane: The spoke guards make me feel extremely confident because when I meet new people my cool wheels are a great conversation starter.

BLOOM: Does the public have a different reaction to your wheelchair when you have the designs on?

Izzy Keane: Definitely. Having my Izzy Wheels on is like telling people that they don’t have to be afraid to acknowledge my disability. It diminishes any potential awkwardness that another person who is inquisitive about my disability may feel. People now are more at ease when asking questions about my disability.

BLOOM: Is Izzy Wheels a business? I noticed it said you donate to charity.

Ailbhe Keane: Izzy Wheels is a business as well as a social enterprise. We give donations from all of our sales to disability charities around Ireland. The proceeds from our ‘Roll Models Collection' are donated to the Irish Wheelchair Association.

BLOOM: What are your plans for the future? Do you both work at Izzy Wheels full-time?

Ailbhe Keane: We are creating a global fashion brand for wheelchair users. Our plan is to expand our business worldwide. We already have a lot of exciting surprises being launched in the near future. I work in the business full time and Izzy works in the business part time. She is also in university studying sociology and politics, French and law.

BLOOM: Why are so many disability-related products ugly?

Izzy Keane: I think the reason why so many disability products are ugly is because when they’re being designed all of the energy is put into their functionality and their aesthetic is forgotten.

Izzy and Ailbhe won first place in the 2017 Accenture Leaders of Tomorrow awards.

Read More

BLOOM story sparks CTV piece on prosthetic designs

We shared this story in our last BLOOM e-letter about an innovative company in Victoria, B.C. that's blurring the line between prosthetics and design with these stylish covers.

Avis Favaro, medical correspondent at CTV National News, says she saw our story and followed up with this broadcast piece. Click above and check out these funky limb covers live.

Read More

Yes! Disabled consumers demand fashion and fit

Dear Louise: Your fabulous article (In Lucy Jones’ hands, style and disability are a perfect fit) forwarded to me by my son BJ Miller about Lucy Jones certainly spoke to me: I've been disabled since infancy by polio.  

Growing up with a disability back in the ’50s and ’60s was different from what it is now: back then, people with disabilities were seen as less “desirable” or “acceptable.” One way I tried to fit it was to always wear clothes that were “in.”

Lucy Jones has uncovered a real need, a market segment that is waiting to be filled. She's also chosen to work with a talented and “unfussy, unfrilly” designer in Eileen Fisher, who knows how to marry form and function to yield great design.

Lucy Jones “gets it,” that the way people dress is an important personal statement, perhaps especially for people with disabilities, because, as I learned when I was young, it's one way to “fit in.”

Yet it's extremely hard to find fashionable clothes that are flattering with the myriad of figure and function issues we have.  

The search and the trying on can be physically and emotionally exhausting, especially when results aren't satisfactory. It often comes down to choosing between unfashionable “clunky” clothes that fit and work well (assuming we can find even them), or fashionable ones that don't. 

In addition, the higher fashion clothes are more expensive to begin with, and on top of that, they usually need to be altered or even remade, which adds more expense (assuming we can find a skilled tailor)!

Finding well-fitting and fashionable clothes can be a big consumer of our most precious resources: energy, time, money. People like Lucy Jones can help us conserve these to spend in better ways!

Yours truly,

Susan Miller, St. Louis, Missouri (pictured above with her husband Bruce, right, and son BJ, centre. Many of you will remember the interview we ran with BJ, who was a Princeton sophomore when an accident at college left him a triple amputee. He's now a palliative care doctor at the Zen Hospice in San Fransisco.)

Like this letter? Sign up for our monthly BLOOM e-letter.

Read More

Why is beauty essential for disabled children, but not adults?

By Louise Kinross

In 2006, Holland Bloorview broke the institutional mould when it opened the doors of an extraordinary building that would operate as a children’s hospital, but not look or feel like one.

Banks of windows and terraces flooded the building with natural light and connected kids with the surrounding ravine and neighbourhood, while the interior was designed with quality, home-like materials such as wood, glass, ceramic tile and limestone. Instead of in-your-face primary colours, there were warm accent colours of deep plum, granny-smith apple, ochre yellow and gentle blue.

Interspersed with this soothing environment were “islands of interest”—pieces of art, interactive exhibits, a huge saltwater aquarium of exotic fish and breathtaking views of the skyline and ravine.

I remember talking with lead designer Anne Carlyle, who explained that the way we design a building conveys a sense of respect—or lack of respect—for its inhabitants.

“In most hospitals, children experience such disconnection from the normal rhythms of life,” Anne said. “Because this site bridges the cityscape and the natural environment of a ravine—with extraordinary views of both—we had the opportunity to reinforce that connection. The whole hospital is about rehabilitation and enabling children and their families to live as well as possible and the design is symbolic of that. It’s full of natural light, life, places to visit and things to do.”

The design of the building was 10 years in the making. I remember early on thinking that the research linking built environments with people's physical, social and psychological health was a bit overblown.

Then I experienced what it was like to work in a beautiful building. It did feel different to have constant exposure to the outside ravine and sky and natural light and to the richness of the interior design. I must have sent half a dozen e-mails to architect Terry Montgomery to express my surprise at just how big a difference the building made.

And then I would always come back to what Anne had said: “These materials communicate a kind of respect for human life.” They say something about the value of the inhabitants.

And so it was from this vantage point that during my holiday I toured a number of day programs for adults with developmental and physical disabilities.

Two of these were located in an industrial area, one of which I visited. The building was a warehouse that was divided into three units with concrete walls. Because of its industrial setting, it was cut off from any of the regular rhythms of a neighbourhood with shops and parks and houses. There wasn’t anywhere you could walk to, unless it was to another warehouse or business.

There wasn’t any natural light inside. There wasn’t anything of beauty, made intentionally for the people who attended the program.

There were hard-working staff making the best of a very difficult situation.

What message did this building communicate to the people who were transported away from residential communities and into that isolated industrial area everyday? What did it say about how these people are valued by the culture at large?

My understanding is that it’s very challenging to get a government-funded spot in one of these programs. The latest trend is for spaces to be offered for a fee to families. The fees seemed to range from $60 to $80 a day, with one program being $100 a day. At one program I visited, I was told that to the daily fee of $55, an additional fee of $200 would be added for an adult who required one-to-one support. Do the math on that annually, and you may be surprised to realize that for a similar amount of money you could easily send another child to university.

Universities are mini-communities, with everything from residences, parks and community centres to libraries and pubs.

Most are situated on lush, rolling campuses draped in vegetation. Buildings are a mix of traditional and modern. The former emulate Gothic stone cathedrals with vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, marble floors and brass chandeliers. They convey a sense of history, wealth and exclusivity.

In short, they communicate a sense of respect and worth for the students who walk their halls.

Many young adults with a range of disabilities will walk or roll those halls as well, of course.

But for others who won't do post-secondary education or work, it's disturbing to see how quickly we rob them of their value. How quickly we remove them from the mainstream and warehouse them. And ask their families to pay good money for it.

Read More