9
Exploring the Schism: Toward an Empathetic Language

Shauna Corry Hernandez

Introduction

While shopping in the mall one afternoon I needed to use the ladies room. After hunting around for the obscure sign indicating its location, I hurried into the entryway of the women's restroom in J. C. Penny's. The room didn't have a door, with only a corner path providing separation from the sales floor and restroom. As I turned the corner and entered the sink area my eyes met those of another woman in the sink mirror. She was sitting on the toilet in the last stall with the door open. A wheelchair was lodged halfway between the stall opening and the restroom, causing the door to remain open. As our eyes met the woman immediately looked away and turned her head towards the wall. I hesitated, and then walked into the first stall.

I have often thought about that experience. It was obvious the woman felt her privacy had been invaded. Was she ashamed, angry, or just tired of the whole thing? As an interior designer and educator it raised questions in my mind about how the built environment is designed and why it still excludes a large segment of the population in the United States. Why is this true when it is federally mandated that all buildings must meet accessibility codes?

This experience, along with these unanswered questions, became the inspiration for the following research study that attempts to understand the apparent schism between users who are disabled and designers and managers of the built environment. It is suggested that by addressing these questions in a systematic way, a contribution can be made toward the development of an empathetic language for inclusive design that is understood by all members of the design community.

Theoretical Overview

Social Stratification in the Built Environment

David Grusky states that “the task of contemporary stratification research is to describe the contours and distribution of inequality and to explain its persistence despite modern egalitarian or anti-stratification values.” Grusky continues to explain that “Inequality is produced by two types of matching processes: the jobs, occupations, and social roles in society are first matched to ‘reward packages’ of equal value, and individual members of society are then allocated the positions so defined and rewarded” (Grusky 1994). This, according to Grusky, results in unequal control over valued resources.

One's rank in a social hierarchy reflects cultural values, therefore status is determined by the possession of what society considers valuable. Amos Rapoport states that the “ideal” environment of a society is expressed in its buildings and settlements and that “The built environment is a direct and unselfconscious translation into physical form of a culture, its needs and values as well as the desires, dreams and passion of a people” (Rapoport 1994). An examination of Rapoport's theory provides valuable insights into why designers of the built environment are not adequately addressing the needs of people with disabilities. If a society or culture attaches value to its built environment, what messages about status are being sent to that segment of the population that cannot fully interact with the built environment, i.e., users who are disabled?

It is recognized that many in the design community are becoming more aware of, and responding to, the need to address the issues of social stratification and discrimination against users who are disabled in our built environment, and that they are becoming more cognizant of the fact that users who are disabled also need gracious and beautiful living, working, and commercial environments that not only satisfy functional needs, but feed the soul. These enlightened designers recognize that complex socio-cultural patterns define and control the use of space and ultimately contribute to conflict and inequality in the built environment. They believe that by designing inclusive environments, they can contribute to social change (Weisman 1992).

Meaning in the Built Environment

Discussions of space and meaning have inundated the social sciences and design disciplines in the last several years. Environmental designer Amos Rapoport, anthropologist Henrietta Moore, sociologists Durkheim, Bourdieu, and Giddens, and cultural theorist Foucault have all examined space in a social context. Their work confirms that spatial relations represent and reproduce social relationships.

The following quote by Moore from her book, Space, Text, and Gender: An Anthropological Study of the Marakwet of Kenya, eloquently describes the intersection of space and society, “It is now commonplace to say that the organization of space may be analyzed as a communication system or symbolic code analogous to language…Space is often analyzed as a reflection of social categories and systems of classification. The meanings assigned to elements of the spatial order in this kind of analysis are given and fixed by virtue of the relationship with the total cultural order.” Moore continues her discussion by connecting the concepts of space and discourse: “if space can embody social meaning, then it can be treated as a kind of a language” (Moore [1986] 1996).

The idea that social and cultural phenomena can be interpreted as systems of signification was developed by the cultural critic and theorist, Roland Barthes, and is embraced by environmental designers today (Barthes 1977; Baird 1995). Through the use of semiotics to analyze interior spaces we can create spatial and linguistic metaphors that help us to understand not only how we use space, but what it means and how that meaning begins to classify and structure our lives.

Our built environment carries many meanings and messages. A well-designed space not only functions well, but it can satisfy a hunger in our souls with light, color, texture, and aroma. A space can embrace, comfort, and seduce. It can lead you from an inviting entrance through a sequence of passages into an anticipated destination.

On the other hand, interior spaces may not always elicit a strong response. They may be monotonous and ineffectual or may deny you pleasure and cause you pain by constricting your movements or annoying you. Depending on your physical and mental capabilities, you can be denied the right to enter a space. Such spaces may intimidate you. Although, at times, interior space can seem to be unobtrusive, it is never unseen.

Interior designers, architects, and facility managers all are actively involved in creating our public and private spaces. However, these spaces are generally designed to accommodate the physical needs of the majority of users; that is to say, users who do not have major problems negotiating the built environment. The resulting message, or meaning, these designs communicate to users with physical disabilities is the subject of this study.

Previous studies have addressed the need for increasing awareness, understanding, and application of universal design principles and the implicit meaning communicated to users with a disability (Hitch, Larkin, Watchorn, and Ang 2012; Saito 2006). In a comparative study of facility mangers in Japan and the United States researchers found that “although many facility managers recognized the advantages of applying universal design, most organizations currently provided accessible workplaces merely within the scope of legal requirements” (Saito 2006). Saito further found different perceptions of what the advantages are in applying universal design between cultures, and ultimately suggested that the key to promoting universal design practice in the workplace would be to enhance the understanding of the issues by top management.

A more recent study examined collaboration efforts between Australian occupational therapists and architects in relation to universal design and the built environment (Hitch et al. 2012). The results highlighted the need for increased collaboration in the workplace and professional education opportunities. Specifically the study called for an “earlier the better” approach.

The objectives of the study presented here were, first, to qualitatively identify commonalities and differences in the way design practitioners, facility managers, and users who are disabled experience the built environment and, secondly, to provide a collective profile, or cultural portrait, of current attitudes and beliefs. Specifically, the study attempted to determine the pattern language of each group and analyze differences and similarities in meaning and perception of the built environment.

In the seminal book A Pattern Language, C. Alexander suggests:

A pattern language is, in short, a picture of a culture. And each personal version of the language is a work of art: a personal effort, by each person, to create a single picture of his culture, which fits together and makes sense of life. If all of us together, try to create such personal “languages,” and share them, then the evolution of our shared language will be a continuous communal effort by all of us, to create an integrated picture of a future way of life, in which all of us can, communally, be whole.

(Alexander, Ishikawa, Silverstein, et al. 1977)

The above quote reflects the primary goal of this study; that is, to explore the intersection of status and discrimination as it is seen and perceived in the built environment by users who are disabled compared to designers and managers. The qualitative nature of this study provided a richly textured description of how environments are perceived to be either inclusive or exclusive. In addition, the study helped clarify the nature of discrimination and status in designed environments and illuminated the complexity of meaning and symbolism that is attached to built environments by these two groups. It is suggested that by increasing our understanding of the symbolism and meanings that are routinely assigned to our built environments by both users who are disabled and designers and facility managers, we can begin to develop a cultural portrait that would help transform our built environment into more inclusive spaces.

Society's Edge

Traditionally, the built environment has been designed to facilitate the social purposes of a small segment of society. This powerful segment is composed of the people with the resources to design and build spaces (Weisman 1992). Unfortunately, these spaces often actively discriminate against various members of society. Whether the purpose of the design is to overtly discourage women from joining an all-male club by creating a feeling of psychological discomfort with over-scaled furniture and masculine design characteristics, or by providing the only accessible entrance to a restaurant through the back door of the kitchen, our built environment and those who design it can, and do, exclude certain segments of society.

A survey found that a disabled person is less satisfied with life, less educated, lives on a smaller income than average, and participates in fewer social activities. A major source of dissatisfaction is the difficulty that those with special needs have in finding accessible housing. Thus, individuals who are disabled find themselves on the edge of society, limited by the physical environment as well as the attitudes of the general public (LaPlante 1991).

Perception and Culture

Perception and culture play an important role in the way users who are disabled, and designers and managers, understand space. According to Carolyn Bloomer, author of Principles of Visual Perception, people project their own personal concerns onto established frameworks of meaning and selectively screen out other concerns. This screening process is a result of pre-existing mental models that program how a stimulus will be perceived (Bloomer [1976] 1990). People see things only in relation to categories already established in their minds. These categories are determined by the culture in which the person was raised, and that culture conditions the people living in it to share a fundamental concept of reality. As a consequence, humans do not experience everything in the world they perceive as having equal meaning.

Thus, non-disabled people do not perceive architectural barriers in their environments because they simply filter out things that are not meaningful to them. However, for users who are disabled, architectural barriers are a reality every day. These barriers are not screened out because they are a constant hindrance that negatively affects the quality of their lives. This lessened quality of life plays out in terms of the actual barriers, as well as the exhaustive sensory overload they are constantly bombarded with when dealing with these barriers.

In the essay “Spatial Organization and the Built Environment” Amos Rapoport, a noted environmental design educator, theorizes “Any consideration of built environments must take into account not only the “hardware” but also people, their activities, wants, needs, values, life-styles, and other aspects of culture” (Rapoport 1994). Rapoport further suggests in the book House, Form, and Culture that “The built environment is a direct and unselfconscious translation into physical form of a culture, its needs and values as well as the desires, dreams and passion of a people” (Rapoport 1969).

Thus, the “ideal” environment of a society is expressed in its buildings and settlements. Rapoport continues to say that an understanding of behavior patterns, including desires, motivations, and feelings, is essential to the understanding of built form. Built form is the physical embodiment of these patterns and, in turn, form affects behavior and the overall quality of life (Rapoport 1969). Rapoport defines the concept of built form to include space, time, meaning, and communication, and proposes the interaction of these elements is equal to spatial organization. This spatial organization, according to Rapoport, is composed of relationships among people and their physical surroundings (Rapoport 1994).

Rapoport's and Bloomer's theories may help explain why it seems that the design community is not adequately addressing the needs of users who are disabled – even though the law mandates attention to accessibility and design education programs go to great length to emphasize code requirements. Perhaps it is as Bloomer postulates. That is to say, since being unable to physically maneuver in a space is not part of designers' and managers' personal knowledge, it is not a part of their personal framework of meaning and they selectively screen it out. It is likely that when creating “ideal” environments, designers do not think about the fact that they may someday become disabled and have to deal with the very obstacles they have helped to create.

Methodology

Participants

A representative sample composed of 21 subjects participated in this study. The composition of the sample was eight users who were disabled, one disability advocate, four facility managers, four architects, and four interior designers. The ages of the five females and four males who represented the users who were disabled (Group 1) ranged from 30 to 57 with 53% having household incomes below $35,000. Seven out of nine were employed and all were high-school graduates, with four having earned Master's degrees. The ages of the six female and six male participants who represented the designers/facilities managers (Group 2) ranged from 28 to 53 with 83% having household incomes above $35,000. All were employed and 11 were college graduates, with three having earned Master's degrees.

Tools and Techniques of Data Collection

The following research tools and techniques were used in the study: (1) cognitive mapping, (2) autophotography, and (3) personal focused interviews.

Cognitive Mapping

Researchers have long used cognitive mapping techniques to identify elements in our environments that have meaning and to highlight differences in perception (Altman and Chermers 1980; Lynch 1960). Altman and Chermers believe that cognitive maps are useful in determining cultural ecology. They note that culture refers to “beliefs and perceptions, values and norms, customs and behaviors of a group or society,” and indicates “that cognitions, feelings, and behaviors are shared among a group of people in a consensual way,” and that the term implies that values and the resulting behaviors are passed on to each new generation.

According to Zeisel and Baird, cognitive maps are the mental pictures we carry of our surroundings (Baird 1979; Zeisel 1981). These mental pictures structure the way we look at, react to, and act in the environment. Expressing these mental images graphically as sketches or diagrams can often assist those involved with the design and management of the built environment to better understand people's responses to, and use of, buildings.

Cognitive map analysis in this study illuminated the differences between both groups' perception of a public space. It should be noted, however, that this tool was difficult for Group 1 (participants who were disabled) to complete. Although Group 1 participants were able to effectively communicate their mental images, it was time-consuming for them and highlighted the differences between the graphic skills of Group 1 members and those in Group 2 (design professionals).

Autophotography

The use of autophotography as an investigative tool has been successful for researchers in sociology and anthropology for many years (Dollinger and Dollinger 1997; Thoutenhoofd 1998; Ziller 1990; Ziller and Lewis 1981; Ziller and Rorer 1985). Ziller believes that autophotography is “richly revealing” because it enables participants to construct a multi-dimensional view of their daily lives. Thoutenhoofd used autophotography to research the deaf community and culture and found that

aspects of a particular, socially and culturally distinct visuality are manifest in visual data such as photographs…I have reached the conclusion that pictures contain a wealth of relevant visual information – often subject to structuring or patterning of sorts – only borne out by lengthy and repeated acts of looking, or after processes of visual analysis.

(Thoutenhoofd 1998)

Dollinger and Dollinger used autophotographic essays to conduct research on identity status and identity style in relation to individuality in young adults (Dollinger and Dollinger 1997). The participants were asked to take photographs that answered the question “Who are you?” Dollinger and Dollinger's main objective “was to test whether the autophotographic measure of individuality reflected differences in identity exploration and crisis.” They found that the autophotography technique worked well, with the results of their research showing that individuals who had had an identity crisis portrayed themselves in a more individualist manner.

Based on the literature, it was apparent that the use of autophotography as a tool of social and environmental investigation would enable participants in this research study to effectively communicate their perceptions of the built environment. However, it was soon discovered that image quality varied greatly from one participant to another and from one space to another. Oftentimes, low lighting levels negatively impacted some photographs and, although the photos were clear enough to be analyzed, they were not reproducible. In addition, some participants who were disabled were unable to take photographs and others had never used a one-time use camera and reported difficulty. Regardless of these technical problems, autophotography was found to provide valuable information in the final analysis.

Personal Focused Interviews

Personal interviews offer many advantages for the qualitative researcher, including understanding the meaning of the experience to the participants. They are also an excellent method to explore individual differences and commonalities among study participants (Sewell 2000). In particular, open-ended questions allow the respondent to expand on their thoughts and feelings in a narrative and provide a wealth of data.

When discussing the merits of personal interviews, Patton suggests that they “reveal the respondents' levels of emotion, the way in which they have organized the world…their experiences, and their basic perceptions” (Patton 1987). Kvale states that qualitative research interviews are “attempts to understand the world from the subjects' point of view, to unfold the meaning of people's experiences, to uncover their lived world prior to scientific explanations” (Kvale 1996).

In keeping with these researchers' views, personal interviews with participants in this study were found to offer many advantages for the qualitative researcher, including understanding the meaning of the experience to the participants. They were also an excellent method to explore individual differences and commonalities among the study participants

Data Collection and Analysis Procedures

The study began by supplying each of the participants with a disposable camera (27 exposures) and asking them to photograph their daily environment for three weeks. This included their home, workplace, and other sites they visited (such as retail establishments). The participants were asked to include any areas that made them feel comfortable, along with areas that elicited discomfort. The participants were also asked to draw a cognitive map of the area's retail mall and then to visit the mall and take photographs.

At the conclusion of the autophotography exercise the photos and cognitive maps were analyzed for patterns and areas of interest that could be clarified or expanded on during the personal focused interview. Questions specific to the photographs and maps were generated, along with general questions concerning characteristics of the environments, and provided the framework for the personal interviews.

In the personal interviews the participants were asked to explain the environmental attributes they chose to highlight relative to the meaning or importance they held in their lives by discussing each photograph. They were then asked to describe an “ideal” and a “non-ideal” environment.

The information gathered from the cognitive mapping exercise, the autophotography exercise, and the personal focused interviews was examined and organized into common and discordant themes and patterns of spatial meaning among the participants, using Lynch's defining elements, Glaser and Strauss' research on developing emerging theory, and Windley and Scheidt's taxonomy of environmental attributes (Glaser and Strauss 1967; Lynch 1960; Windley and Scheidt 1980).

To organize the information obtained from the cognitive mapping exercises completed by the two groups of participants, Lynch's “defining elements” approach was used. Lynch suggests defining elements that repeatedly occur in cognitive maps in the following ways: (1) paths, (2) edges, (3) districts, (4) nodes, and (5) landmarks. Cognitive maps are spatial representations of the built environment and, as such, they are often incomplete, distorted, and at times augmented. People see what they have learned (through culture and experience) to be important (Bloomer [1976] 1990).

Glaser and Strauss' work in grounded theory focuses on analyzing data in an effort to develop an understanding of the meaning associated with a group's experience. Specifically, Glaser believes that grounded theory enables the researcher to discover the theory implicit in the data (Dick 2000). Glaser also suggests that “there are two main criteria for judging the adequacy of the emerging theory: that it fits the situation and that it works, e.g., that it helps the people in the situation to make sense of their experience and to manage the situation better.”

Windley and Scheidt's taxonomy identifies eleven attributes that are perceived to contribute to environmental satisfaction (Windley and Scheidt 1980). They include sensory stimulation, comfort, activity, crowdedness, sociality, privacy, control, accessibility, adaptability, legibility, and meaning. These eleven attributes of environmental satisfaction provided a systematic, and previously validated, framework within which to organize the information provided by Groups 1 and 2 in their cognitive maps, autophotography and narrative exercises, and interviews (see Table 9.1).

Table 9.1 Windley and Scheidt's taxonomy of environmental attributes

Sensory stimulation	Quality and intensity of stimulation as experienced by the various sensory modalities
COMFORT	Extent to which an environment provides sensory and anthropometric “fit” and facilitates task performance
ACTIVITY	Perceived intensity of ongoing behavior within an environment
CROWDEDNESS	Perceived density level within an environment
SOCIALITY	Degree to which an environment facilitates or inhibits social contact among people
PRIVACY	Ability to monitor flow of visual and auditory information to and from others within an environment
CONTROL	Extent to which an environment facilitates personalization and conveys territorial claims to space
ACCESSIBILITY	Ease in locomotion through and use of an environment
ADAPTABILITY	Extent to which an environment facilitates personalization and conveys territorial claims to space
LEGIBILITY	Ease with which people can conceptualize key elements and spatial relationships within an environment and effectively find their way
MEANING	The extent to which an environment holds individual or cultural meaning(s) for people (e.g., attachment, challenge, beauty)

To ensure the validity of the analysis and organization of the data, an independent reviewer was identified and asked to review and categorize the photographs and corresponding quotes that had been compiled by the researcher. Both the researcher and independent reviewer analyzed every tenth photograph and corresponding narrative. 100% validity was obtained between the researcher and the independent reviewer for the random analysis of data from Group 1 (users who are disabled) and 83% validity was obtained with the random analysis of data from Group 2 (design professionals).

Cognitive Map Analysis

A factor analysis of the cognitive maps was conducted to identify Lynch's defining elements of spatial perception (paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks) and an attribute analysis of the personal interviews and corresponding photographs was used to identify symbolic elements within the built environment.

Regardless of the drawing ability of the participants, the cognitive maps served to provide important information about the spatial perceptions of the mall environment from members of both groups. As expected, the cognitive maps from Group 2 (designers and managers) were graphically more precise and enhanced with detail and color. In contrast, the cognitive maps from Group 1 (users who were disabled) were not embellished, either because the participants were unskilled in graphic communication or because it was a challenge for them to use a drawing instrument.

An examination of the cognitive maps of Group 1 and Group 2 revealed many similarities. In keeping with Lynch's defining elements, participants from both groups identified paths as the main public traffic corridors of the mall. The edge was noted as the building footprint or the boundary streets, and districts were denoted as the anchor department stores (Dayton's, Sears, J. C. Penny's, and Herbergers) and surrounding smaller retail corridors.

Nodes were identified as the gathering spaces in front of each anchor department store where public seating areas are provided. A major node and landmark denoted frequently was the fountain, a central gathering place in the mall. In fact, the majority of the participants from both groups identified the fountain as their starting place. Other areas identified by both groups were those of special note or meaning such as the museum, which is a source of pride for the community.

A cognitive map matrix was developed to determine how frequently the participants in each group denoted similar elements of the built environment (the mall). As can be seen in Table 9.2, both groups denoted Lynch's paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks with approximately the same frequency, reinforcing the conclusion that all participants, regardless of whether they were disabled or not, perceived the major elements of the mall in much the same way.

A comparison of the cognitive maps of Group 1 and Group 2 revealed that the most striking difference between the drawings was either the inclusion or exclusion of factors in the built environment that dealt with accessibility; (i.e., accessible/family bathrooms, elevators, and accessible entries). Group 1 always indicated the location of these elements on their cognitive maps, while Group 2 rarely indicated them, if at all.

Symbolic Element Analysis

A symbolic analysis of the content of the personal interviews and corresponding photographs was conducted to identify the underlying symbolic relationship structures. Differences and similarities in the symbolic elements were coded and placed into the following categories of meaning:

Concept = underlying ideas that describe things and events, underlying ideas of similarity and difference by which events, people, and things are classified;
Icon = symbolic element that is closely related to the concept (people, places, or things that concretely represent or portray an abstract concept or category); and
Theme = a centerpiece of symbolic analysis; a theme is a person's assertion or comment about some aspect of reality.

As expected, and in accordance with the cognitive mapping results, this analysis also revealed that Group 1 focused on the theme of accessibility and function, while Group 2 focused on sensory and functional aspects of the spaces. Image and narrative analysis from Group 1 shows the icons of “door,” “restroom,” and “wheelchair” and the concept of “accessible” as the top symbolic elements in their environment. Group 2 participants identified the concepts of “lighting,” “color,” and “functional” as their top environmental symbolic elements. While both groups identified the icon of “door” in their top 10 symbolic elements, Group 1 ranked it as first and Group 2 ranked it as ninth.

Examples of the differences between the perception of the built environment by Group 1 and Group 2 can be seen clearly in narratives below. Each narrative corresponds to a photo taken by individuals in each group.

Group 1: Concept/Icon Examples of Emerging Themes

Theme: accessibility/function

Narrative: “[This] is a picture of my son standing on my wheelchair lift in my van and it illustrates how the lift opens up right down on that landing in the garage and I leave the van open like that so it's easy to get in and out. Our garage happens to be heated, which keeps everything warmer, heated to about 45/50 degrees and maybe colder next month because we just got our bill. That rather than fighting a parking place makes a difference.”

Narrative: “This is a good bathroom. This is newly remodeled bathroom out at the mall. It works nice because this is a single stall bathroom and there is room to get in. If I need help, you know whoever is with me can come in. So if my husband is with me he can help, he wouldn't be in the women's restroom. I think they call it their family bathroom. It is really nice. I mean as far as going to the bathroom, the colors are nice.”

Group 2: Concept/Icon Example of Emerging Themes

Theme: sensory/function

Narrative:“I took a picture of this front entry and I think it is just awful. Number one, it's dirty, and this is 9:00 in the morning before there's not even any traffic and it still is dirty. You can't see it very well but there's stains on the carpet. I think the way the sign is and stuff it's so busy and it blocks your view and you can't see a lot with some of the big stuff in the middle. And then I don't like the way they have this stuff set up around here, because it's like there's a lot of stuff in this area. But, it's hard to know where you are going. Confusing…the flow, the people flow.”

Emergent Themes: Identification and Discussion

Five major themes were identified from analysis of the photographs and corresponding participant interview responses: (1) quality of life, (2) control and choice, (3) sensory stimulation, (4) meaning and values, and (5) similar preferences and “ideal” environments.

Quality of Life Theme

All participants took photographs of environments that either functioned well for them, thereby enhancing their quality of life, or that did not function for them, thereby lessening their quality of life. The primary difference between Group 1 and Group 2 was on the environmental characteristics that each group identified as facilitating the performance of a task. Group 1 commonly identified accessibility issues that focused on pathways of travel that severely limited their ability to interact with others or to complete a necessary bodily function such as going to the restroom. In contrast, participants from Group 2 identified general issues of function that were inconvenient, but did not hinder their performance.

The most common positive environmental characteristics identified by Group 1 were in their home environments. In particular, Group 1 identified most positively those areas in their home environments where they were able to make adjustments to meet their functional needs.

The autophotographic journals revealed numerous instances where Group 1 commonly encountered physical barriers that denied them access. When these physical barriers were brought to the attention of building owners they were oftentimes not dealt with in a timely manner, if at all. Thus, the data revealed that those individuals who designed or managed environments perceived accessibility as having less importance than did those who were disabled. This lack of affirmative responses from the able-bodied population and the design community at large negatively impacted the quality of life of the participants who were disabled.

The quality of life differences between Group 1 and Group 2 are exemplified by the following comparison of narratives from participants in each group when describing a photograph they took.

Quote from individual in Group 1:

“The front entrance to Phil Wongs…Well I can't get in, I mean there is a 6 inch rise to each entrance and there is no way I can enter that facility unless I get off my scooter and walk in with canes. I've lodged a complaint with the Mayor's Committee and if nothing happens soon I am going to lodge a complaint with the ADA coordinator. And what I understand [is] she usually sends a letter to the agencies to say, “What's the problem?” I don't know if anything happens, but…”

Quote from individual in Group 2:

“it's just the summer season porch and it is so pleasant to be out there because you feel like you're outside…it just feels like you're perched in a little tree house almost, when you are out there. And you can be outside and no bugs and you can see my husband's grill is out there. And the shape of the porch is like a Mondrian painting or something. It has as few support members as possible because we wanted as much visibility as possible, but it's a pleasant room to be in and a pleasant view. The only negative thing about it is sometimes the sun is so bright that we have to kind of hide in the shade of the corners, but other than that…”

Control and Choice Theme

The theme of “control and choice” emerged repeatedly from both groups. Participants in the study photographed spaces they could control and provided narrative about the positive aspects of those spaces. Comments regarding control and choice generally focused on qualities of ownership and their ability to change the environment, such as personalization of work environments, the design of a home work space, and the ability to choose where they would sit in a space.

Group 1 participants focused more on the issue of choice relative to accessibility, (e.g., whether or not they could sit at a particular table) than did Group 2. Preferred spaces for the participants who were disabled were ones that provided seating options and opportunities for choice. The difference in the perception of the built environment between disabled users and able-bodied designers and managers is best seen in a comparison of narratives describing a photo they had each taken.

Quote from Group 1:

“This is the eating area at M&H. It is booths and there are no chairs.”

When asked if she would try and sit at one of tables the participant replied:

“no one could get by you. This is Taco Bell. They have a lot of booths…but they do have chairs too. So you can move a chair and get to a table.”

Quote from designer in Group 2:

“This is my office. Put your feet up on the desk, I guess.”

Sensory Stimulation Theme

Although Group 1 participants did not photograph environments that focused on sensory elements, they spoke about sensory elements in their narratives, especially when asked about their favorite and non-favorite spaces. Interestingly, however, during the personal interviews with participants who were disabled the focus again reverted to discussion of the functional issues that confront them on a daily basis. This indicates that the overarching concern for users who are disabled in the built environment is their ability to function. This implies that, by necessity, all other aspects of the built environment that might constitute a positive experience become secondary for users who are disabled.

Group 2 participants, on the other hand, spoke often about sensory elements in their workplaces, homes, and the public spaces they frequented. Sensory elements such as sound, smell, light quality, and the “look” of the space are all evident in the photographs and narratives.

Group 2 participants who had strong negative reactions to poorly maintained areas, clutter, dark spaces, and spaces that felt “dead” or lacked stimulation in terms of color, lighting, etc. demonstrate the sensory stimulation theme further. Participants in this group photographed positive spaces that often included natural plants, good friends and family, and attention to design detail. The emergence of this theme was not unexpected given the group's composition of individuals whose careers revolved around the design and creation of built environments.

Meaning and Values Theme

One of the prominent themes that emerged was an emphasis on “meaning” as it relates to personal values. For example, Group 1 participants expressed the theme of value and meaning in the photographs they took of the built environment and the narratives they supplied. However, the focus of the images and narratives identified a much different value than those seen in Group 2. Once again, the overarching issue for the users who were disabled was access and function – placing the most value and meaning on the concepts of exclusion, discrimination, and disregard for their needs.

In contrast, Group 2 participants photographed environments that had individual meaning and either reflected their personal values or countered their personal values but did not impact them on a daily basis. One participant identified the issues of sustainability and sense of place in his interview, and others in the group voiced concerns over changing morals and values as represented by security devices in public spaces.

Similar Preferences for “Ideal” Environments Theme

Many studies (Herzog 1998; Mauksch 1992; Nasar and Upton 1997; Newell 1997; Scott 1993) have been conducted on environmental influence and preference, building on theories developed in even earlier years (Mehrabian 1976; Nasar 1983). In 1997, Newell examined the impact cultural universals have on valued and favorite landscapes individuals interact with on a daily basis. In her study, Newell cautioned, “A point to bear in mind is that professionals, such as architects and landscape architects, appear to use different criteria from the general population. It is likely that the users place more emphasis on the affective meaning of the building, place, or landscape.” Newell quotes Rapoport as stating designers “tend to react to environments in perceptual terms (which are meanings), whereas the lay public, the users, react to environments in associational terms.”

This was indeed the case in this study with Group 1 and Group 2. When both groups were asked to identify their favorite spaces from the photographs they took and to describe their “ideal” environment, all participants, regardless of which group they were in, expressed a desire for similar elements. Those elements were identified as natural light, exterior views, large spaces, functional designs, plants, and a supportive environment in general. “Non-ideal” environments were identified as cold, institutional, impersonal, and – especially for Group 1 participants – nonfunctional.

For example, a participant in Group 1 described their “ideal” environment in this way:

“Real light, real sunny, spacious, no carpet, an easy quick in and out. I could tell you what I really like, is a wheelchair accessible place in Arizona where I can get in and out easily. Lots of plants, lots of planters – my height. Low windows.”

By comparison, a participant from Group 2 offered similar sentiments when asked to describe their “ideal environment”:

“Yeah, outside. Yeah I like that, the moon, full moon…try to be at the lake…I try to keep track of when the full moon is, so you can, when you are up at the lake, when you are sitting up in the loft, looking out the window, the big moon comes up and shimmers all the way across the lake, I would just sit down on the dock at night, look up at the stars…The exterior, my outer office does not have that. Actually I called my wife about 1:00 today and asked her if it was nice outside. I haven't seen it since I came this morning. So I kinda sense, I want to have a window, would like to have a view…I think personally, I'm somewhat energized by looking out at nature and seeing what's happening. I do enjoy urban scenes too where you have activity and people, cars, and see activity going, but my favorite would be when I'm at the lake, where you can see nature, very relaxing. I would like to have space to have some of the things that I enjoy as far as art work. A comfortable couch, and access to a computer and probably a TV to watch, I don't watch too much TV though. I know it's not realistic, but I'd just as soon not have a telephone in that space. Actually, I think everything I'm telling you is a personal getaway. I like green colors, beige, true colors. There would be plants in my space. I'd like to probably even have a sky light in it so at night the when the moon is out you could see the moon and stars. Be able to adjust the lighting to whatever mood I happen to be in.”

When asked to describe their “non-ideal” environments, again similarities emerged between the two groups. For example a participant in Group 1 described a “non-ideal” environment in this way:

“Spaces too small, ice and snow. The biggest frustration I have is bathrooms that I can't get into to use…I hate going downtown, because I don't know of a lot of buildings I can get in there…The Moorhead Theater, at Moorhead State, I mean that is appalling to me, for I have to sit in the walkways…another gentleman came in a wheelchair and had to crawl up the stairs. To me that is appalling. This is a state university, that I assume is getting federal dollars, I won't go there again, and I like going to plays with my wife. I don't want to be different, I'm different anyway, but I don't want to be more different than I have to be, from you or anybody else. I look obvious coming, I don't want to look more obvious by sitting in the alley or walkways where people have to rush by you, walking around you, that makes me uncomfortable.”

Striking similarities exist between this quote from a participant who is disabled and an able-bodied design professional when speaking about their “non-ideal” environment:

“Yeah, worst space – all those cold institutional spaces. I guess the cold, a lot of metallic, marble, polished, you know I think would be beautiful, but seems sterile, and a general public location where, you know, like that bench, how many diapers have been changed on the bench, you don't know. A place that I don't have a relationship with, so I don't know its history. I don't know its use. I don't know anything about it and it's not even put there for me to get to know. It's like a place that occasionally, I have to use. Like a public restroom, who hangs out in there unless you are smoking cigarettes in tenth grade, you know.”

Discussion

The results of this research study highlight the fact that although users who are disabled and designers and managers look for, and appreciate, many of the same attributes of the built environment, it is at the interface between what constitutes discrimination in the built environment and what does not where the two groups diverge. This study vividly points out that the issue of accessibility, and the potential of not being able to function in the built environment, carried a much more profound and personal meaning for those who were disabled than it did for the designers and managers in the study.

The social reality of this study is that a schism exists between users who are disabled and designers and managers of the built environment. The cultural portrait one can draw from this study suggests that this schism is evident to users who are disabled, but not so evident to the design community – which continues to reinforce the schism by creating built environments that discriminate.

Although designers consider function at all times, the majority view and define the term “function” from their personal perspective; in other words, whether it “meets code requirements” and, if it does, then it meets the accessibility goals of a project. Although users who are disabled uniquely view accessible space from their personal perspective, they are highly aware that “function for the majority” rules.

The emerging themes generated from this study offer a starting point for an improved dialogue between users who are disabled and management and design practitioners to help address discrimination in the built environment. Increased understanding of spatial perception and meaning can be effective in communicating user needs and wants in the built environment and help us move toward the creation of more inclusive environments.

The contrasting perceptions of the built environment between the two groups and the continued prevalence of the existence of exclusionary spaces in the built environment were documented throughout the study. Perhaps the most prominent, and disturbing result of this study was the evidence that there has not been as much change as is needed over the past several years – regardless of federal and state mandates such as the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA, 1990). Discrimination of the disabled continues to exist in our built environments today and, although it may be unconscious, this discriminatory approach forces users who are disabled to either be seen as, or to feel as if they have been, stratified into a lower social class than able-bodied users. The resulting frustration, and at times rage, of these users is dramatically illustrated in their narratives and the photographs they took.

This study highlights the missed opportunity for the designers of the built environment to embrace “design as a instrument of social change.” If, as Danko (2000), Presier et al. (1991), and Ganoe (1999) propose, design is an important part of enhancing life quality for users, then it must be inclusive design for all users, not just the able-bodied. According to Ganoe, “Designers…should…be aware that design…reveals meaning on three levels; behavior and function, power and status, philosophy and worldview.”

The ramifications of failing to address the needs of users with a disability can be costly and affect all areas of the built environment, from the micro scale of product design to the macro scale of urban design. Bjork notes that the resistance of corporations in applying universal design principles to their development process is causing them to lose sales as they are not viewing people with disabilities, comprising 15% of the population of the Western world, as potential customers (Bjork 2009). Further, Skinner notes that East Asian countries have led the world in enhancing accessible public spaces and transportation infrastructure, and further believes universal design may become a necessity in managing travel populations in the future (Skinner 2008).

Bridging the Schism

How do we bridge the schism, the lack of collaboration, the lack of addressing the needs of all users? Knecht calls for incorporating universal design principles into the design process, so it is not just a solution to a problem, but a “framework for creating solutions” (Knecht 2004). This moves the concept from one of “have to” to a climate of access that encourages creativity and collaboration. Heylighen and Bianchin see the need for defining the relationship between inclusive design and good design not as just universal design, but “as a deliberative enterprise involving both designers and the people they design for” (Heylighen and Bianchin 2013). Specifically, they state, “we view design quality not simply as a matter of convergence of different perspectives, but as a matter of cooperative integration.”

Monaghan notes that design for people with disabilities “has made only an intermittent, marginal impression on the world.” However, he believes this will change because of the world's rapidly aging population. According to Monaghan, disciplines that are leading the way are product design (kitchen utensils and technology devices) and media designers (Monaghan 2010).

One of the things that this study most vividly illustrates is the fact that designers of the built environment and the users who are disabled each perceive spaces from their personal and individual perspectives and experiences. How the environment impacts their life in terms of function is the overriding issue for people with disabilities, while designers focus on a multitude of stimuli and address function at a much more abstract and less personal level. Although designers believe they are adequately addressing function and accessibility in the built environment when they adhere to “the rules” of ADA, it is apparent from this study that they are falling far short of creating inclusive spaces when seen from the perspective of users who are disabled.

Inaccurate use of language sometimes confused the basic goals of this project.

The ADA Standards for Accessible Design are the basis for universal design, but by themselves, constitute only one aspect of designing for all people…This problem is complicated by the popular trend in advertising and print media to use the terms barrier-free design, accessibility, and ADA interchangeably with universal design without understanding or explaining the requisite shift in perspective.

(Welch 1995)

So what is an empathetic language? Is it a language based on perception and understanding of user needs or code definitions? The emerging themes of this study illustrate the need to develop a vocabulary of empathetic terminology. For example in “Theme I: Function and Accessibility,” users who were disabled described spaces that they did not like in the following terms and phrases that exemplified what they can and cannot physically do in a space:

“I can't get in”; “no way I can enter”; “difficult to maneuver around in there”; “terribly narrow”; “I can barely fit through there”; “it is difficult and impossible to open”; “it's too high”; “This is labeled at our church as the accessible bathroom. And it is not”; “no one could get by you”; “had to crawl up the stairs.”

In contrast, when designers and managers of the built environment talked about what they didn't like about spaces their focus was on inconveniences that make a space less enjoyable, rather than on whether or not they could physically do things in the space, such as move around comfortably:

“It just doesn't stay clean”; “The only negative thing about it is sometimes the sun is so bright that we have to kind of hide in the shade of the corners”; “at least it's shady for an outdoor seating space”; “I've had a couple of studios below ground and I've had to descend these stairs into that and, I don't know, somehow it's always been kind of cold.”

An empathetic language for designers should incorporate a true understanding of what users who are disabled are experiencing as challenges in the built environment on a daily basis. It must go beyond the terms such as “accommodate,” “accessible,” “barrier-free,” and “universal design.” For example, instead of designing an “accessible bathroom” designers might say instead “inclusive bathrooms.”

It is suggested further that changing the terminology from the perspective of the “other” (users who are disabled) versus “us” (able-bodied designers) to a perspective of “we” would help bridge the language gap. This approach would provide evidence to the disabled community that designers and managers are sensitive to the issues of discrimination in the built environment and willing to work towards design solutions that are inclusive of their needs and that strive for equality. The use of empathetic terminology that highlights the concepts of equity, sharing, and inclusion by designers and design educators would be a positive step toward transforming our built environment.

Future Research and Limitations of the Study

This research study is only a beginning step toward the development and adoption of an empathetic language for the design community. As such, it provides a starting point for many other research studies. For example, future research on the role of design as an instrument of social change could focus on the relationship between the designer/architect, building owner/manager, and the user who is disabled and the resulting negative social and economic impacts of continued discrimination by repeating this study with an expanded and more refined sample.

This study attempted to integrate a multitude of images and responses into a larger, collective mosaic of “the language of universal design.” This mosaic is at times bold and definitive, and at other times blurred and undefined. Further study to develop and create an “empathetic language” that would communicate through symbols and an inclusive approach to creating our built environments would contribute to the body of knowledge necessary to underpin such an effort.

It is also suggested that further studies which expand the collective profile presented here would be of value. For example, a survey of top architectural and design firms and facility managers could be conducted to determine their level of understanding of universal design concepts. This, in combination with a study that focused on discovering more successful ways for people with disabilities to communicate their needs in an effective manner, would help bridge the schism between the design community and those with disabilities.

Additional studies of value to the design community at large could focus on the role of education in the design process. A methodology for how to increase three-way communication between designers, owners, and users would contribute to the transformation of our built environments into more inclusive environments. Further research documenting exactly what constitutes an inclusive environment would also contribute to the literature on universal design.

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