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Scott’s Gallery

Scott’s Gallery

Art from Inside

Artist Scott, 51…

I started drawing in the county jail in 1996 to help maintain some sanity. I found that drawing allowed me to manage what I was thinking about. I would focus more on the image and less on my predicament and isolation as I ended up spending 2 years in jail before ultimately being found guilty of Second-Degree Murder. 

Between 1998 and 2004, while in prison, I taught myself to draw, portraits for the other incarcerated men. When I got here to SQ in 2004, I was able to shift to painting through the Arts in Corrections program. While in this program I would meet Mr. Patrick Maloney who taught me to see art as a tool for problem-solving and how doing so would allow me to express myself in a positive way, giving me a voice and helping me give back to society and my community. 

Through Arts in Corrections I started a mural crew that beautified the very walls that confined us, bringing a positive to what the incarcerated perceived as a negative. 

Looking back at who I was before art I see an angry, fractured and intense person needing attention, to be heard and to be noticed. For me, art encompasses these feelings in a way that does not hurt people but transforms the experience for both the artist and the viewer and enhances our lives instead of damaging them. Making art was the beginning of my rehabilitation and the introduction to who I have become. 

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Raul, 46

Raul, 46

Stories

Meet Raul…

..When officers learn to dehumanize people they become desensitized to basic conditions in them: fear, hope, want and sorrow. We cannot allow ourselves to be viewed as non-entities.

Incarcerated: 17 years

Lucky went by ‘Luck’ to his friends. He only had three, on account of Lucky being a grouch. It took guts to be grouchy in a level four prison. He was already knee deep into a life term in 2005 at Pleasant Valley State Prison in California’s central valley. There were only three things important to Lucky: cigarettes, tobacco and smoke in his lungs. He kept to himself. The prison would be implementing a tobacco cessation, which meant Lucky would have to learn how to live without his life-giving smoke.

Late one morning, an inmate from God-knows-where arrived and moved into cell 107 with Lucky. Only he could tell you what went on in there. But instead of locking it up for count, he went to the tower and told the correctional officer on duty he was refusing to be housed with Lucky. She told him to “Shut up and go inside.” He didn’t. After a brief back and forth, he told her that if she forced him to lock up with Lucky, he was going to “Kill him.”

Those were his exact words. Again, the officer told him to shut up and go inside. This time he did. For unknown reasons the building was locked up all that afternoon. They did run a brief dayroom hour, nobody noticed that Lucky wasn’t there. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility to think that correctional kept cell 107 closed on purpose.

That night, officers did their rounds to count bodies. We were all accounted for. In the morning, before breakfast was served we were all taken out of our cells and led outside in nothing but our boxers and shower shoes. I walked past 107 and noticed the door ajar. I saw as I passed, the lifeless body of Lucky draped across the top bunk. He had been choked to death since the afternoon before. When officers learn to dehumanize people they become desensitized to basic conditions in them: fear, hope, want and sorrow. We cannot allow ourselves to be viewed as non-entities. But the struggle for liberation from oppression includes liberating the oppressors.

When we fight against them we create an additional cycle thus digging ourselves deeper into the problem. The solution lies in sensitizing them. Compassion and love will always win. 📸Sister Eva

 

Charles, 48

Charles, 48

Stories

Meet Charles…

…Love is more about how you show it and less about how many times you say it.

Incarcerated: 18 years
Housed: California State Prison, Solano

The way I see “true” love is so intricate, intimate and yet very basic. I see love as a verb: an action word. Love is more about how you show it and less about how many times you say it. This is just my opinion of course, and the fact is love means something different to us all. My mother’s love is the perfect example of how I view this powerful word. Not just “a mother’s love, but “My” mother’s love in particular. God blessed her to be the vehicle to my existence.

The support that has been shown ever so lovingly, and unconditionally leaves me speechless at times. Her pure love is shown, even when my decisions have proven to be unworthy, and my actions have shamefully victimized her. My mother, our family’s queen, exemplifies my view of what love is. It is a verb, an action word, and it is this kind of love that I seek out in all my relationships. It is this sort of love that I strive to have for myself and others. I love you Mrs. Josephine Johnson, for all that you are and all that you do. 📸 Charles’

 

 

Erick’s Gallery

Erick’s Gallery

Art from Inside

Artist Erick, 36

I first started with art when I was in jail to send to my friends and family. I eventually met other people that drew, who made their own tools, and were way better. They motivated me to improve. I had a knack for drawing before I was incarcerated, but it took off like a rocket being in here. My inspirations surrounding my art came from my environment, sketching, listening to music, watching TV shows, looking at tattoo magazines, art books and other people’s artwork. I also gain inspiration from thinking of certain words. Overall, an idea pops into my head and I write it down to draw upon later or sketch it immediately, then refine it later. The reason why I submitted my artwork is to send good vibrations into the world so people who see my artwork can hopefully feel my emotions, happiness, euphoria, laughter and wonder. Also, I wanted to bring awareness to incarcerated people to show we are capable of doing good and that we are people still; wanting to earn our way home.

Thank you for giving me this opportunity to share my story.

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Robert, 60

Robert, 60

Stories

Meet Robert…

…Prison is like being in a time vacuum where life has ceased. Neither moving forward or backward, alive but deceased. Prison is like a sack into which each day, each hour, drops another stone. Bending the spine until the tell-tale crack.

Incarcerated: 24 years

I have discovered that there is no simple answer to the question “What is prison like?” or “Why I became addicted to drugs.” I used to feel haunted by such questions. I could not format a valid and truthful response. Yet, during this prison term I experienced two things which the California Department of Corrections had deprived me of during previous terms. The ability to learn about myself through self help groups, and the chance to learn through the on-sight college program.

What Is Prison Like?

Returning to the streets – faces, souls, and spirits I meet.
Curiosity beating down the like, what is prison like?
Prison is like being in a time vacuum where life has ceased.
Neither moving forward or backward, alive but deceased.
Prison is like a sack into which each day, each hour, drops another stone.
Bending the spine until the tell-tale crack.
Prison is like being at the bottom of a well, walking round and round.
Without physical or material existence – incorporeal.
Still, prison is not like hell, neither like heaven.
Not all gloom and depression.
See and you shall find the nadir of oppression.

 

 

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