Top ten: Being a visual artist and living with a disability
Visual artist and living with a disability
Art is seeing the world through your own eyes and translating it for others.
My name is Rachel Boutin. I am a visual artist specializing in painting, drawing, and embroidery. By 2025, I had participated in over a dozen exhibitions, won awards for my art, and sold my work. Most of the time, people didn't even know that I've been living with multiple sclerosis since 2008. Although my illness affects my mobility and energy levels, it doesn't stifle my artistic passion or my ability to create new works.
Here is what I would like you to know about the reality of artists living with a disability.
1. My disability does not prevent me from fully participating in this artistic life.
When you see me at my booth in an art market, smiling and chatting with visitors, what you don't see is the meticulous planning that helps me manage my energy by taking strategic breaks throughout the event. And even then, I know I might have to pay the physical price for several days afterward.
But I can tell you that it's always worth it. Building personal connections with people who appreciate my art nourishes my practice and allows me to contribute to a vibrant local cultural economy.
I continue to create, exhibit, and sell my work at art and craft markets. I have to adapt my strategies each time, but it's an essential part of who I am as a professional artist.
2. Art and craft markets are physically demanding, but profoundly rewarding.
As you can imagine, transporting the artwork and materials, setting up the booth, and spending hours on your feet throughout the weekend takes a lot of energy. But it's all worth it for that beautiful moment when someone stops in front of my work and says, "Your art moves me." Experiencing that deep connection between my art and the public is irreplaceable.
I wholeheartedly choose to participate in these events for these sacred moments between my art and the public. Exhibiting my work is demanding, but it is this experience that gives life and meaning to my practice.
3. Because exhibition venues are not always accessible, installation and dismantling are unnecessarily difficult.
Organizers cannot always know or understand what doesn't directly affect them. Imagine the challenges of hauling your equipment up a stairwell when there's no elevator, only to then have to deal with unstable ladders and complicated rigging systems.
If you're organizing an exhibition, take a moment to consider how accessibility affects both artists and the public. To fully support this community, reach out to artists directly and ask us what we need to exhibit our work safely and effectively.
4. I am a professional artist who lives with a disability; I do not do art therapy.
Art can certainly be therapeutic for everyone, but my artistic practice is at a professional level. Like any other artist, I create works that deserve to be judged on their aesthetic quality, conceptual approach, and technical mastery.
Although my disability is an integral part of who I am, it does not define my art. What matters most is that our work is evaluated on its own artistic merits.
5. Fatigue and energy management are an integral part of my production reality.
A disciplined approach to managing my health makes me a more thoughtful and intentional artist in my practice.
Some days I can paint for hours; other days I need to rest. This variability is the nature of a progressive disability. It doesn't mean I'm less productive or less committed to my practice—it simply means I have to plan differently.
I've learned to work with my energy cycles rather than fight them. I'm very energetic at the beginning of the day, so that's when I create. In the evening, I go to bed early.
6. When you tell me that I am "inspiring" simply because I create art, I understand that it comes from a good place.
That said, let's be clear: I make art because it's who I am. I don't make art in spite of my disability. My disability is part of my personal journey, but it doesn't define me entirely.
When I'm described as courageous or exceptional simply for living my life and pursuing my profession, it creates an artificial distance between me and my visitors. Rather than being surprised that a disabled person can create something beautiful, I prefer that we focus on how we connect through art.
I hope you will admire my work because it touches you emotionally, because the colors speak to you, because the composition draws you in. See me first as an artist, then get to know me as a whole person with all my facets.
7. I have spent years learning about my limits and my capabilities.
Living with a progressive disability, my limitations and abilities can vary from day to day, so I have developed strategies to navigate them.
When someone tells me, "You shouldn't do that" or "It's too much for you," I know the intention comes from genuine concern, and I appreciate it. But people need to understand that I know my body best and what I'm capable of today. I have methods that allow me to achieve my artistic goals while respecting my needs. The trust you place in me to manage my own limitations is the greatest gift you could give me.
8. If you want to help me, offer your help kindly, but respect my answer if I say it's okay.
I know it's a delicate matter—you want to be helpful without being offensive, and I sincerely appreciate that. But too often, people offer solutions without asking me what I actually need.
For example, someone might insist on carrying my artwork when I need help hanging pieces high up or adjusting the lighting. Or they might insist I use a ramp when my real challenges are the uneven floor that affects my balance during installation, the heavy, non-automatic doors I have to navigate repeatedly with my equipment, or the lack of an accessible restroom nearby during a long installation day. The best way to help me is simply to ask, "Do you need any help?" If I say yes, I'll tell you exactly how you can help. If I say no, please know that I still appreciate your gesture.
I do not participate in exhibitions to be pitied — I participate to share my passion and my art with you.
9. If you visit an exhibition where I present my work, give me the same attention you would give to any other artist.
Look at my work with curiosity. Ask me questions about my approach, my techniques, my inspirations. Seriously consider buying one of my pieces if it speaks to you. Engage in conversation with me as you would with any other artist.
I am a professional artist who contributes to the cultural economy, and my work has the same value as that of my peers. All I ask is the same chance to touch you with my art.
10. Accessibility in cultural spaces benefits everyone, not just disabled people.
Whether you're an event organizer, gallery director, jury member, or simply an exhibition visitor, you have a role to play in accessibility. Integrate accessibility considerations from the planning stage, rather than as an afterthought. Listen to artists with disabilities when they express their needs—we are the experts on our own experiences.
When you take the time to create accessible spaces, you open the door to a diversity of artists and visitors, enriching the entire cultural community. It's an investment in the richness of our collective culture.
Bonus point. We can participate actively and fully in society and culture.
My disability is part of who I am, but it doesn't hinder my contribution to the art world. I've had a rich and successful professional career, and now I have an artistic practice that deeply nourishes me. This year, I've exhibited more than a dozen times, received recognition, sold my work, and cultivated meaningful connections with the public.
We are not asking for special treatment; we are asking for equitable access and recognition that our contributions have value. We ask that you see us first and foremost as artists, professionals, and valuable contributors to the cultural richness of our communities.
Look beyond your first impressions. You'd be surprised at what we accomplish when barriers are removed and we have the right support. And most importantly, you'll discover that inclusion enriches everyone, not just those who need it.
Thank you for taking the time to read this article and seek a better understanding. Please share it and discuss it with those around you. This way, more people can understand our reality as artists with disabilities and contribute to building a truly inclusive artistic community where everyone belongs.
Biography of Rachel Boutin
Rachel Boutin is a multidisciplinary visual artist and consultant for artists. She combines her practice in painting, drawing and embroidery with professional coaching focused on emotional intelligence and authentic marketing.
With a bachelor's degree in art history and EQ-i 2.0 certification, Rachel is the creator of the PAC™ (Creative Artistic Path Profile), an assessment tool designed specifically for visual artists. She exhibited more than a dozen times in 2025 and received the Sylvie Coutu People's Choice Award at the Mascouche Arts Festival. She is a co-founder of the Art That Causes movement, which combines artistic creation with community engagement.
Rachel has been living with multiple sclerosis since 2008. She works in Repentigny, Quebec.