A Blind Artist

Zoe Legg, a visually impaired student starting a BA Textiles for Fashion course at Basingstoke College of Technology, with some of her artwork “Identity”. Photograph: Graham Turner

I was 17 when my sight began to deteriorate. I started having trouble reading things in the distance. I just thought I needed glasses, but I was diagnosed with Stargadts disease, a genetic condition that causes progressive sight loss and usually leads to blindness.

I gave up the art foundation course I’d been studying. I’d always been a visual, creative person, with an eye for design. With my sight getting worse, I couldn’t see the point.

At first, I played it down and just tried to get on with it. Determined not to end up on benefits, I worked as a cleaner and a chambermaid. I didn’t tell some of my friends. I appeared to be carrying on as normal. By the time I was 20, I was struggling. I was nervous crossing the road. I couldn’t find my friends in the pub; often I didn’t want to leave the house. In a world where I could only see blocks of colour, I started to feel isolated. I started to suffer panic attacks, and eventually had to give up work.

I enrolled at the Royal National College for the Blind in Herefordshire, where I studied remedial therapies, such as Indian head massage. I started yoga and learned breathing and relaxation techniques, which helped a lot.

I had my son Rhys at 25. My relationship broke up soon afterwards and I became a single parent. People are often curious about how I coped, but you just manage. The key is to keep everything tidy and orderly, so you can find everything. We managed fine until my son stopped using his buggy – I used it as my “guide dog” – but it got difficult after that. When I was taking him to school, I’d bump into the other children, almost knocking them flying. Getting a guide dog was a relief. Having her around to watch Rhys in the park was very reassuring.

A run of terrible luck made me re-evaluate. My granddad died, then my uncle. Then, two years ago, my dad died suddenly, closely followed by my nan. My dad was only 59. He was my best friend, so it hit me really hard.

In the months that followed, I realised I wasn’t just grieving for the members of my family I’d lost. For the first time, I was also grieving for the loss of my sight. It was a real turning point.

It was my dad who’d instilled a love of art in me. He’d shown me how to draw people, explained the idea of perspective. It had been 15 years since I’d done any art, but I started to draw and paint again. It was such a liberating feeling.

I started an access course in art and design last September. I’ve realised that being visually impaired doesn’t have to stop me expressing myself through art.

I’ve learned to work in different ways. I get visions in my head, which I try to translate into my work. I’m experimenting with working with more tactile materials, such as felt and weaves. I’m also starting to work with embroidery and ceramics. I use a pen for drawing now, instead of a pencil, so I can make out the shapes more easily. Once I’ve finished the course, I hope to go on to a degree course in textiles for fashion. It’s taken some time, but I finally feel as if I have found my purpose in life.