Imagine a room filled with earnest voices, debating the very essence of communication. Now, picture that debate happening in 1880, at a pivotal international conference in Milan. This wasn't just any meeting; it was the Second International Congress on Education of the Deaf, an event that, despite its well-intentioned title, would cast a long shadow over the lives and languages of Deaf communities for generations.
The exhibition '1880 THAT' at Wellcome Collection, featuring the work of artists Christine Sun Kim and Thomas Mader, doesn't just recount this history; it makes us feel its impact. The title itself is a clever nod to the Milan conference, with 'THAT' serving as an emphatic expression in American Sign Language (ASL), adding weight to the historical moment and its enduring consequences.
At its heart, the Milan conference championed oral education, pushing sign language to the sidelines. This shift, driven by policymakers and influential figures like Alexander Graham Bell – a fervent proponent of teaching Deaf individuals to speak – fundamentally altered Deaf education. The irony, and indeed the tragedy, is that out of 164 delegates, only one was Deaf. This imbalance of voices set the stage for a century of linguistic suppression, leading to stigma, exclusion, and diminished opportunities for Deaf people in countless fields.
Kim and Mader, who have collaborated for over a decade, use humor and wordplay not to shy away from this difficult past, but to illuminate its complexities. Their art invites us to see language not just as a tool for communication, but as a home – a vital space of belonging. When that home is threatened, as sign languages were, the sense of safety and identity is profoundly shaken.
The exhibition itself is a testament to this idea. You'll encounter new commissions and recent works that explore the intricate relationship between signed and spoken languages, and the policies that have governed linguistic freedom – or its absence. There are drawings, films, and sculptures, each piece a conversation starter.
One striking element is the commemorative plaque made of bricks, each imprinted with '1880 THAT'. This isn't just art; it's a protest. It addresses the glaring absence of any such marker at the actual conference site, a symbolic act against the erasure of this crucial moment in Deaf history. The brick motif, a recurring theme, pays homage to Victorian architecture while also representing the foundational building blocks of language and the defiant act of throwing bricks in protest.
Among the notable works is 'Look Up My Nose' (2025), a sculpture inspired by the noses of Melville and Alexander Graham Bell. Designed to emit vibrations, it's a playful yet pointed critique of the perceived superiority that fueled the suppression of sign language. Then there's 'NOT CROSS' (2025), a brick wall that visually articulates the frustration of miscommunication, the disconnect between words and gestures. And the kinetic installation 'ATTENTION' (2022), with its oversized inflatable arms, uses the ASL sign for attracting attention to highlight historical and contemporary sites of policymaking, underscoring the ongoing struggle for recognition.
Through new video works like 'F on Eye', 'What's Left', and 'Eye Spy', the artists delve into linguistic vulnerability, cultural resistance, and shifting perspectives. They offer a nuanced look at the challenges of communication, but also find the humor in miscommunication and champion the fundamental right to be understood.
'1880 THAT' is more than an exhibition; it's an invitation to reflect on how decisions made over a century ago continue to resonate. It challenges us to move beyond a medicalized view of deafness and to imagine new possibilities for understanding, celebrating the richness and resilience of signed languages and the communities they bind.
