I do not notice vision disappearing. I notice that I unsee things.
I was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa in my mid-twenties. I am almost 50 now. If you would like to understand more about this condition, Retina UK has a clear overview. It is an inherited eye condition. My dad has it too. He is now in his eighties and practically blind. For a long time, I tried not to think too far ahead.
Sight loss is strange. You do not realise vision is disappearing. You very slowly begin to notice an absence. It is like imagining what is behind you. You do not stop and think, "I cannot see that". You cannot see it, and with a slowly progressing condition like mine, you do not realise it has gone.
For years I carried on with work in film, photography, and digital communications. I built a career, raised a family, and stayed busy. It was easier not to dwell on what might change in the future.
That changed when I was formally registered as severely sight impaired in 2023.
It was a shock, even though the condition itself was not new. It forced me to confront questions I had avoided. What does the next chapter look like? What can I realistically sustain long-term? What still feels meaningful?
IMAGE: Andrew walking in the street with a white symbol cane
Why art has become urgent
I have always been a visual person. As a child, I wanted to be a photographer. Later, I worked with cameras professionally. Seeing, noticing, and framing moments has always been part of how I move through the world.
As my vision narrows, my attention has changed too. I find myself drawn to small moments. Ordinary scenes. The curve of a cheek, the way a child leans against a parent, light on a wall, a sunset reflecting on waves.
That is why I make art now. It has become a way of holding onto those moments.
Not in a dramatic way. Not big gestures. Just daily practice. Drawing every day. Painting regularly. Returning to the same subjects again and again. Family, memory, familiarity, closeness.
At some level, it's about reinforcing those visual memories, aiding recall of those moments, but at a deeper level it feels less like trying to preserve images and more like trying to preserve meaning.
IMAGE: Andrew working on a painting of his son squeezing soap
A new chapter
Until recently, I worked as deputy head of digital communications at the Department for Work and Pensions. It was a demanding and meaningful role. But over time it became clear that the environments I once navigated confidently were becoming more difficult. Crowded spaces. Unpredictable movement. Physical filming setups that I could no longer trust myself to see clearly.
I am currently taking a sabbatical year to explore what a more sustainable creative life might look like given my increasing sight loss.
That exploration is slow, uncertain, and honest. I am not presenting a polished reinvention. I am sharing the process as it unfolds. The uncertainty is part of the story.
I have begun sharing my work and thoughts publicly across social media, often through short videos and simple daily updates. Not to perform resilience, but to document reality. The doubts, the small breakthroughs, the routine of showing up.
Speaking with Optometry Today
In January 2026, I was featured in Optometry Today in a long-form article about creativity, diagnosis, identity, and sight impairment.
The piece explores:
- Being diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa in my twenties
- The emotional impact of being registered as severely sight impaired
- The lack of awareness around registration and support
- Why art has become central to how I cope and adapt
- What it means to rebuild a sense of identity mid-life
IMAGE: Optometry Today's feature page article about Andrew
You can read the full article here:
This links to the Optometry Today article
I am grateful for the care and depth with which the piece was handled. It felt important to speak openly, not just for myself, but for others navigating similar experiences.
What I hope this work offers
I do not believe sight loss defines a person. It does shape things. It changes logistics. It alters confidence. It narrows certain options. But it does not remove the capacity for meaning, creativity, humour, or connection.
If my work offers anything, I hope it offers this:
- A sense of being less alone
- Permission to move slowly
- Attention to ordinary moments
- A reminder that identity can evolve rather than collapse
- Space to reflect on the importance of personal memories
This is not a finished project. It is an ongoing one. I am still learning what this new chapter is.
Where to find my work
You can explore my artwork here on the site.
If you like what you see and want to stay connected, you can subscribe to emails at the bottom of the page. I send them around once a month and share news and early access to new work.
I also share regular updates on social media:
If you would like to get in touch, whether as a reader, journalist, organisation, or simply someone navigating similar terrain, you are very welcome to contact me via the site.
If you would like to understand more about why I make this work, I have shared a short film about my story and process on my About page.
You can watch it here: About me
Further reading and support
If you would like to learn more about retinitis pigmentosa and inherited sight loss, these organisations offer clear, trustworthy information and support:
-
Retina UK
Information about inherited sight loss conditions, research, and support networks. -
RNIB (Royal National Institute of Blind People)
Practical guidance, emotional support, and services for people living with sight loss.
These resources are provided for anyone who may be seeking information, whether for themselves or someone close to them.
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