The question has been coming up a lot lately. I enjoy creating art, but I know that I am more than my work. I create the art to escape from this life I have been leading behind bars. It has been a horrible experience, and I would not wish it upon anyone, but I take responsibility for the bad things I have done. So, when I ask myself, “Who is Mark Andreason?”, I recognize that I am on a path of self-discovery since taking this leap of faith that my art will take me anywhere but here.
I find myself smiling more as a result of feeling like a kid again. I am becoming more aware of what is simple beauty. The other day, I noticed a squirrel that ran to me for food. It was awesome to see this creature in my surroundings that usually does not sustain anything attributed to nature. Prison life has been hard and hardened my outlook on life. Yet, the squirrel’s lack of fear toward me made me feel like I am approachable. It put me at ease in my own space.
I wonder sometimes if my negative outlook blocked me from openings because now that I am moving in a direction where I allow myself to be free, opportunities continue to come my way. I found out this month that “I’m Tired” is being published in AverageArt, an art industry magazine based in London. Wow! I still can’t seem to wrap my head around the good feeling that has come over me, but I am excited because my artwork is out in the world—at least internationally—for everyone to see it.
If that is not enough, I have also received a Special Merit Award from LightSpaceTime.art, which is featuring “Beginnings” on YouTube for their 8th Annual Animals Online Exhibition. My mind races with how many people will be exposed to my work. It is amazing to me that I am experiencing such good fortune. The way I see it is that if my work is in the world, then I am in the world.
So you know, I don’t know if I am the same Mark Andreason anymore, but I do know that I like this guy. I can look at him in the mirror even with all of his faults and past transgressions. What I know about this guy is that he is talented based on the recent public opinions of others. He’s also a man who appreciates the natural unfolding of a new chapter in his life. Mark Andreason is growing every day. In some ways, he is a kid again with a fresh pair of eyes and a grateful heart. Wouldn’t you know it? That guy is me!
More about Mark:
Since 1986, California-based Mark Andreason has been honing self-taught skills. Mark was heavily influenced by the painters Julie Bell, Boris Vallejo, and artist Luis Royo. He uses only pen and eraser to develop urban Gothic drawings. “Someone asked me, ‘When do you create for yourself?’ I thought it was an odd question since I enjoyed drawing for other people and assumed that it was understood that I was drawing for me. Duh? But then I realized that what I was really being asked was to look to my art for what motivated me. It took on a different meaning and had a different purpose, especially dealing with my disappointment about not being free. I am now working from the inside by freeing myself instead of expecting those from the outside to determine my fate.”
*This post was originally published on the baddkarMA.net Blog, May 27, 2018, and used with permission from the artist/writer. Please visit the site to experience more of Mark’s artwork and writing.
Our newest podcast episode, Singing Connected Relationships in Prison Contexts with Dr. Mary Cohen is an exploration of the power of imagination as a part of restorative, redemptive, and community-building work within prison contexts. When the word “empathy” was introduced into the Western lexicon by Robert Vischer in 1873, the notion of empathy was rooted in an imaginative ability to feel into works of art (Laurence, 2015). Rachel Corbett (2016) writes, “Empathy explained why people sometimes describe the experience of ‘losing themselves’ in a powerful work of art. Maybe their ears deafen to the sounds around them . . . or they lose track of the passage of time” (p. 22). Empathy may be a process of losing the self in the moment to construct new identities and interconnected communities within imaginative space.
Mary Cohen and Jennie Henley (2018) recently wrote about the imagination of possible selves as “cognitive bridges between the past and future.” As I listened to prison insiders/outsiders offer introductions to concert songs and read stories within the Oakdale choir, I began to understand the power of articulating imaginations in a public space. Many choir members’ spoken introductions articulate who the self is and who the self wants to be. This ritual of public proclamation within a choral concert offers members opportunities to reimagine a new sense of self within the shared accountability of concert space.
Similarly, my earlier conversation with Elizabeth Parker (2018) explored how women’s choirs allow girls to construct new senses of social identity that imagine the possibility of who they are and can become as women. Parker writes that women’s choir participants “felt a sense of mattering” that supported them in literally and metaphorically “opening up my voice and me.” Maybe a sense of mattering is the fertile soil which supports imagination and the development of voice and personhood.
I am also captivated by the interplay of imagination within Mary Cohen’s notion of ubuntu as the work of humanized community building. South African ubuntu is the process of being a person through other persons; a process that engages our imaginative and empathetic capacity to explore, sense, and live into a sense of oneness. Desmond Tutu (1999) articulates that through the oneness of ubuntu, forgiveness reclaims humanness. He says, “What dehumanizes you inexorably dehumanizes me. It [Ubuntu] gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them” (p. 31).
Prominent peacebuilders and theologians have noted the centrality of imagination and connectedness as foundations of empathy and compassion. Bridget Moix (2019) notes that peacebuilders speak of “the ability to imagine new futures as a critical ‘tool’ and a source of ‘power’ in the process of peacebuilding.” Imagination can make hope visible, opening futures of possibility and empowering practices of compassion. The power of artistic or prophetic imagination, according to Brueggeman (1978), is that it allows individuals to lose a sense of numbness and reclaim humanness through awakened senses and emotions. It is for this reason that imagination is one of our three pillars of peacebuilding in our new Master of Music Education program at Elizabethtown College.
This podcast with Dr. Mary Cohen that has challenged the way I think about the role of imagination within identity, restoration, and healing. As arts advocates, we all know of the power of the arts in awakening creative imaginations. The emerging research from Dr. Cohen, Dr. Parker, and the neuroscience of social connection may help us frame our intentions in building selves and connecting communities.
Cohen, M. L., & Henley, J. (2018). Music-making behind bars: The many dimensions of community music in prisons. In B. Bartleet & L. Higgins (Eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Community Music (pp. 153-171). Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Corbett, R. (2016). You must change your life: The story of Rainer Maria Rilke and Auguste Rodin. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.
Laurence, F. (2015). Music and empathy. In Olivier Urbain (Ed.), Music and conflict transformation (pp. 13-25). New York: I.B. Tauris.
Moix, B. (2019). Choosing peace: Agency and action in the midst of war (Peace and Security in the 21st Century). New York: Rowman & Littlefield International.
Parker, E. C. (2018). A grounded theory of adolescent high school women’s choir singers’ process of social identity development. Journal of Research in Music Education, 65(4), 439-460.
Tutu, D. (1999). No future without forgiveness. New York: Random House.
About the guest contributor:
Dr. Kevin Shorner-Johnson is director of music education at Elizabethtown College. His scholarship focuses on the intersection of peacebuilding and music education. As a teacher, he has applied his interests in ethics, spirituality, and peacebuilding to approach music coursework in ways that are rooted within an Anabaptist heritage of peacebuilding, intentional community, and ethical discernment. Dr. Shorner-Johnson’s most recent scholarship will be highlighted in an international book that approaches and critiques the United Nation’s temporal constructions in education policy. His on-the-ground peacebuilding work focuses on building capacity and community within Central Pennsylvania Latina/o communities and using the arts to affirm and embrace the fullness of Puerto Rican identity.
What makes a master artist? How does one achieve that title? Become a master in their own right? Is it going to school for decades and being under the tutelage of an artist? Achieving several degrees and certificates that look good on paper like a good resume? What is it?
I remember maybe a year ago I had a piece of artwork on the table. It was a passion flower. Everyone commented on it, even officers asking who did it and how did I get it to look so real. One dude in here asked if someone white or a Spanish guy did it and I thought, how ignorant can you be and told him as much. He apologized and said it was excellent work, he just didn’t think Black people did things like that. Oh, by the way, he was Black. I wasn’t mad at him, but mad at the fact of how deep that statement really went. Then I looked back and realized in my environment we don’t expose our kids to what’s out there in the world. Well me coming up I wasn’t exposed to art and theater, rocket science, clean energy, space travel, etc…. Trust me the list goes on. And the thing is now I have a profound interest in it all.
With all that being said, I have found myself through art. It allows me to express my thoughts visually and create sceneries that I have love for. Like how I feel, nature scenes with animals, and endangered species.
Some ask how long have I been into art and don’t believe when I say I just got into it within the last 5 maybe 6 years and that it was just a way to pass time. I really got serious about it within the last two years and started getting into color. I drew one thing when I was a kid cause I liked the thing, that’s the Rock Man from the Fantastic Four, and never drew anything again after that. There’s a whole story behind that, but we’ll save that for another day.
I’m not schooled in the arts, have no formal training, and don’t really know or understand the jargon dealing with art. All I know is that I have a love for it. Now I’ve started reading up on it and just learned about tint, tone, and shade, scumbling, burnishing, glazing, and things like that. I didn’t know what light fastness was until yesterday, funny isn’t it. It’s also funny that I have an understanding of these things through trial and error. I have no one to guide my hand and tell me what I’m doing wrong. My hand is guided by God, my imagination, and my patience. I wish I had let my life been guided by those principles. Either way, what makes a master artist? Is it the atelier way? I say that cause I just read a book on the subject saying you can’t become a master unless you have proper schooling and the atelier is the best way to go about it. That doesn’t make sense to me. I ask, who taught the first master artist? He learned from doing and figuring out what worked and what didn’t. Truthfully I’m glad that I’ve learned this way. The more I read the more I discover what I’m already applying to my work. Now I’m just learning what it’s called.
I’m not a master as of this date, but I will become one. Not because some books or some people say I can’t, I don’t really care what others think is possible for me. But because my love for art will show through my work and my work will show my understanding and speak for itself. I’m still learning and hope I will always discover more as I go. This is The Becomings of a Master.
About the guest contributor:
“I’m Rayfel Zumar Bell known as R. Zumar and discovered my passion for art while incarcerated. I’m a self taught who strives to break into the art world even from a cell. I spend the lions share of my time thinking about and creating art, the rest working out and my favorite pass time, snacking :)! Through art I want to help others and contribute to various charities I care about; cancer, autism, sponsoring kids in need around the globe, and preserving wildlife.”
Contact Info: You can email me through Jpay.com and typing in 1067546 or reach me through snail mail at Rayfel Zumar Bell #1067546 RNCC 329 Dellbrook Lane Independence, VA. 24348
by Cynthia Garcia, Hillside High School Art and Leadership Teacher, Upland Unified School District
Hillside Continuation High School 11th and 12th grade students in Upland Unified School district in Southern California had the opportunity to connect with an incarcerated artist using their own art thanks to the Justice Arts Coalition pARTner project. The idea was inspired by the stories of students who have shared their own personal hardships. Many of these hardships revolved around having a family member, friend or themselves being incarcerated. Since I have family members of my own in the prison system, I felt it would be a great opportunity for students to have a chance to reach out and learn how to connect with other people who understand their circumstances. It would also help the students find hope, reach out to the community, and to think about making better choices.
I stumbled upon the Justice Arts website while researching prison art programs and was inspired by the stories and art of the incarcerated artists who were trying to use art to help them cope with prison life and give them opportunities to learn new skills. Around the time I discovered the website, the students were working on creating six artist trading cards inspired by the artist Steven Quinn and learned what it means to create a narrative by repurposing images from old dated history books and modern magazines. The idea behind the cards was to allow students to trade, collect, and give away cards to other students, family and friends. I had the students create digital artist trading cards, due to restrictions in the correctional facility, to be printed and sent out to our pen pals to trade and collect amongst each other. The theme was open for the most part, but I reminded them that the purpose was to tell a story that has some type of significant meaning to their own lives.
I had previously reached out to Wendy Jason, the managing director of the Justice Coalition, about my interest including Hillside art students in the program. She gave me all the information we needed to reach out to one of our pen pals, Mr. Cromwell, who was both shocked and very excited to receive our letter. In our first letter we let him know a bit about the school and the project we were currently working on. He was completely on board to help inspire and motivate our students and answer any questions the students had about his life in prison.
After the students finished up their final trading cards, I asked them what questions they would be interested in asking Mr. Cromwell in our next letter. Below are a few of the long list of questions asked by the students:
-Do you find being in the prisons unsafe? I have a brother that is also in prison.
-Do you have a family?
-Do you get commissary?
-How do you make a spread?
-Do you play sports?
-What is your ethnicity?
-What were you sentenced for?
-Would you take back what you did?
-Do you like art and what type do you like?
-What do you plan on doing when you get out?
-How old were you when you got in?
-How tall are you?
-Do you get into fights?
-Are the prison guards nice?
-Do they let you watch TV?
-What are the hours of your phone calls?
-Do you get visits from your family?
-Where you born in Louisiana?
-Were you the only one involved in the crime you commited?
-Is prison punch real?
In the letter I let Mr. Cromwell know he was in no obligation to answer any question he was uncomfortable with and explained that the students were curious to know these things. I felt as their teacher it was necessary for them to be honest with their questions. Included in the letter was a large set of our trading cards for him to distribute, collect, and spread around the correctional facility. Below are a few examples of the student’s work using a free online program called Pixlr.com:
It took a while before we got our letter back from Mr. Cromwell due to him relocating to a new area in the facility. Inside the envelope was not only his letter, but artwork from him and another incarcerated artist named Mr. White. It was a surprise for the students and myself since we only expected one letter back.
In his letter, Mr. Cromwell shared that he loved the trading cards and decided to share his cards with his friend Mr. White. Mr. White was interested in being a part of the exchange after seeing our cards and letters. He wanted to contribute by answering questions the students had and included his own artwork. As we read Mr. Cromwell’s letter he did leave some details out of his responses to the students questions including what he was sentenced for, but he did share words of wisdom and encouraged the students to stay in school, finish their education, stay out of trouble, and stay positive even if times get tough.
In Mr. White’s letter, he was more open about sharing his experience and told us that he has been incarcerated since he was 19 and is now 44 years old. This elicited a big response from the students and prompted some to share their own stories about their families in prison. One student asked about violence in prison which Mr. White replied, “Yes, but you only fight when you need to. Getting into a fight only means you couldn’t think your way through a problem.” We spent some time talking about this particular question. I asked the students what happens when they get into a fight and the majority of them said they would “black out” and not remember what happened because they were full of anger.
Before we worked on sending our final letter, I wanted to get more in depth with discussion about art in the prison system. I had the students watch a small segment called Prison Art Thrives in Mexico. We watched the video in class and afterwards I had the students answer the question, “Do you agree or disagree with allowing prisoners to create and sell art? Why or why not?” The following are responses from the students:
“Yes I agree with prisons allowing inmates to create and sell art. Not all prisoners have family to support them while in prison so if they are able to make money it will be able to help them keep up with their art. Also it’s a good distraction for them it can keep their mind off of things as in trouble or as in keeping their minds of their time.”
“I say no because they decided to give their rights up when they decided to break the law.”
“I agree with the prison allowing inmates to create and sell art because there are a lot of people in the prison that want to express themselves and fulfill their goals and dreams through art. They should be supported and even provided with materials. They can explore themselves and express their emotions.”
“I agree because some people are locked up for uncertain reasons. Not everyone should have to struggle to make money in prison because no one knows the full story. Art can help prisoners make money while escaping the prison walls through their imagination.”
The majority of students responded positively and felt that inmates creating and selling art would help them to minimize stress, build new skills, and focus on staying out of trouble.
For their final letter we let Mr. Cromwell and Mr. White know how much we appreciated their honest responses and that their words will help to educate our students about making better choices and that making mistakes is a part of learning. We also included motivational posters created by the students. They were asked to pick a quote that uplifted them in a time of need so they could spread the message to other incarcerated individuals inside the correctional facility. Below are a few quotes chosen by the students:
At the end of our last letter I included these final words to Mr. Cromwell and Mr. White:
“With these final words said, thank you for inspiring our youth and showing them that despite our mistakes, we can learn from them to help use make better choices. These students just need another chance and someone to listen and guide them on the path of success. I will leave you with a quote from my favorite educator Rita Pierson, “Every child deserves a champion, an adult that will never give up on them, who understands the power of connection, and insist they be the best they can possibly be.”
Overall it was an eye opening experience not only for my students but for myself as a teacher. It showed us that art can create powerful connections with the community and help to show support to those in need. I plan on continuing to work with the Justice Arts Coalition project and I’ll have my next group of students reach out to more incarcerated individuals through different art projects. I hope this post will encourage other educators and individuals to get involved and reach out to more incarcerated artists. I look forward to another great year working with the Justice Coalition Project and our artist pen pals.
I find it incredibly difficult to describe what it is like being an artist in prison. There are so many physically and emotionally conflicting paradoxes at play. If I were never imprisoned, I would have, most likely, never taken the time to explore the artist aspect of myself. On the other hand, my environment places many restrictions on my creative process. I can’t just create whatever I want to. I am limited to certain resources that I am allowed to purchase and subjects that I am allowed to draw or paint. These limitations are frustrating at the best of times but do not diminish my gratitude for the joy of creation. The best way to describe all of this is to tell the story of the most meaningful painting I have done in prison.
It all started when there was a change to the monetary system in my prison. Although inmates are not allowed to purchase things from each other, they do. It is hard to stop the entrepreneurial spirit, especially among a group of people known for their hustling. Last year, the value of our main form of currency, postage stamps, was raised and that change left a glut of old stamps that no longer had any value. These stamps were worn, used by hundreds of inmates over the years, and frankly, beautiful. They fascinated me so I decided to “paint” the American flag using these old, worthless stamps as a medium. I wanted to show another side of the American economy, one that most people don’t see, and through that, the nature of prison itself.
I really love this part of creating art. The ideas are starting to form into a tangible, living thing. At this point, I am no longer myself, no longer in prison, but an active participant in a conversation that has been going on for the length of human history. A conversation that can trace its roots back to the first markings on cave walls. I am filled with a desire to express my experience of life in a way that will transcend my own life. This is what art is about for me. And I love it. This love sustains me through all the ups and downs that come with making something that has never been made before.
I started off by letting everyone know that I was interested in doing an art piece and was looking for as many old stamps as I could get my hands on. Most know me as a nice, but eccentric artist, and several people were willing to help me by giving what they had. Still not having enough, I was forced to trade items from commissary to people who needed motivation to donate to my artistic endeavor. This quickly became an expensive project. I then researched the official dimensions of the American flag in the U.S. code found in the law library. It turns out that there are very strict rules and I was glad to learn them. Armed with this information, I cut a piece of canvas that I had purchased ahead of time. I am the only artist here who stretches his own canvas as most can only afford the student grade canvas panels since all art supplies have a thirty percent markup added by the prison. After measuring out my lines on the unprimed canvas, I decided to paint the white strips of the flag and leave the rest of the space as unfinished canvas. The emptiness will be filled in with stamps or left as negative space.
Once the canvas was prepped, I needed to find a place to work. I am very fortunate to have an easel to paint on in the recreational building, but for this project I needed a flat surface. There is only one table available in the art room, and it is in too high of demand for me to monopolize for several hours. So, I folded up the canvas and snuck it back into my living space on a different floor. We are only allowed to paint in the art room and what I did was very much against the rules. One of the first lessons I learned in prison was rules are flexible and that most guards don’t care what you do… until they do. Finally in my room, while using my bed as a work desk, I lost myself to the wonders of art making. Every now and then I would hear the jingle of keys and try to hide what I was doing from the patrolling guard. Most likely, he knew that I was not doing anything really bad and left me alone. Finally the piece starts to fit all together. The stamps were purposefully falling out of place, emphasizing the crumbling nature that is so prevalent in the prison system. Still, I felt that the overall message wasn’t showing through. At this point, inexplicably, an inmate whom I had never talked to before stopped by my room and asked me what I was doing. I explained the piece and the problem I was having. He quickly pointed out the I could move one stamp down and it would solve my problem. He was right! And then he was gone. I never did talk to that man again, but that is a common prison experience, randomness. Finally finished, I spent several hours gluing the stamps down, then rolled it up and snuck it back into the art room.
I was so happy with the finished product. It really had the feel of the prison economy and was visually striking. I felt as if I added something substantial to this world and transcended being in prison. We can’t just mail out art projects but have to wait till special days when the recreation officer in charge of the art program can inspect and sign off on them. So I waited, and then mailed out as I have done many times over these years. But my parents never got the package. Weeks went by, and nothing! Finally, I found out that the officer who approved the project didn’t appreciate my use of stamps in an art piece, and without telling me, confiscated my painting. I sought out a higher level prison official to find out what I rule I broke. They then accused me of trying to export currency from the institution and said that my work was to be destroyed. Oh the irony! It would have been funny if it wasn’t so frustrating and painful. I pled my case several times but was told that the painting was a threat to the security of the institution. When that phrase is used, that is the end of the line and the decision is permanent. My favorite painting, one created to comment on the unseen nature of prison, will never itself be seen by the outside world.
And that, essentially, is what it is like being an artist in prison. I still grieve the loss of my painting. At the same time, I feel more whole having made it. When I paint something, I never know if any one will ever see it, but the act itself is incredibly satisfying and fulfilling. Before coming to prison I was a mess. I was so busy trying to destroy my life while at the same time trying to maintain it. There was no time for self-introspection or doing something self-affirming. Now incarcerated, I have the time, and art is the vehicle that provides for both. With this powerful tool, I finally feel like a productive member of society, even if I have been removed from it.
Click each image to read a statement from the artist.