The exchange between Philipp and Tizian, conveyed through gestures and words that carry their own rhythm and texture, defied my initial understanding. This is the core observational subject of the film — an examination of how these two individuals connect with, and relate to, each other. My presence with a camera was an exercise in restraint, observing without interfering or prescribing what I wanted to see.

And yet, this experiment was as much about self-inquiry as it is about observation. It illustrates that the observer's learning curve is steep and humbling — that my initial sense of dislocation was a reminder of the shifting grounds upon which notions of ability and impairment are constructed. This self-reflectivity pushes the narrative forward, engaging with questions of control and participation within design discourse: How do our own experiences of inclusion or exclusion shape our creative practice? In what ways does the act of observing alter our understanding of what is deemed 'normative'?

In stepping into their world, I encountered my own vulnerabilities and biases — followed by the realization that it was me who was the outlier in their mutually attuned exchange. It is here that I began to see disability as a relational phenomenon, emerging from spaces of situated and embodied encounter. My inability to immediately grasp Phillip's speech cast me, momentarily, in the unexpected role of the observer who must strive to learn, to adapt, to become “able”. 

Such reflections bring to light the impact of embracing ethnography within design. The methodology of participant observation — privileging the witnessing over the urge to intervene — surfaces questions critical to design research: How should our designs respond to the context-specific ways individuals understand and are understood by others? How can empathy inform our creation of environments that do more than just accommodate? How can we design spaces that are adaptable to the changing dynamics among individuals with varying abilities?

Throughout the film, I am a silent witness, reflecting on the essence of what it means to engage, to empathize, and to encode these experiences into accessible and relatable design principles. The viewer is invited to join in this contemplation, to question how design can be informed by the layers of communication we so often overlook. We are prompted to consider how inclusive design can enact a symphony of services, tools, and environments that resonate on a personal level, addressing not just a collective notion of impairment but the individualized experiences therein.

The film is not about defining or solving but exploring and understanding. It's an invitation to engage with the complexities of human interaction in caregiving contexts. How can we, as designers and viewers, learn from these unscripted moments of connection? What insights can be drawn from the natural ebb and flow of their daily communication? And what novel forms of interaction can we facilitate through our design choices?

This film exploration has been a deeply transformative experience for me, both personally and academically. It has reinforced the importance of humility, patience, and openness in design research. As designers, we must be willing to immerse ourselves fully in the experiences of those we design for, embracing the complexity and diversity of human interactions. Only then can we hope to create solutions that truly resonate with the wide spectrum of human needs and experiences on the ground.