Announcing the launch of the JAC Community Survey!

The Justice Arts Coalition, with the support of two graduate students from the George Washington University, is conducting a comprehensive evaluation of its programming. As part of this process, we are asking for members of the JAC community to complete a brief survey about their experiences with JAC activities. If you have participated in our programs, made use of the resources on our website, been in contact with our team, or stayed connected via social media, we welcome your participation. Your feedback will be used to help inform and strengthen our programs moving forward.

While we hope many of you will choose to complete the survey, participation is completely optional, and there are no negative consequences for choosing not to participate. Those who do participate can also choose to leave individual questions blank, and any information provided will be completely anonymized, and reported through averages, rather than individually.

If you do choose to participate, we ask that you please complete this online survey by March 21st.

Thank you very much for your feedback and support of the Justice Arts Coalition!

To My Big Sis, Judith Tannenbaum, from Spoon Jackson

by Spoon Jackson

My love for my mentor and big sis, Judith. I know death is rising over the mountains, slowly, and the pain must be enormous. Yet Judith finds and creates beauty and peace even in the midst of a hurricane. She transforms in the middle of death. Judith has been dealing with great physical and mental pain all of her life, and yet she is like a birthing star, always growing and sending out and being love. I don’t know what my world will be without her, hollow and empty. 

But it’s not about me, and I am sure she left some of her heart and spirit inside each of us— a shining light in darkness. Judith’s curiosity and loyalty is unmatched even by goddesses or gods. If she believed in you, she inspired you to be yourself and change the world, if only the small world you knew. She lies there holding hands with death, and yet no bitterness enters her heart, and joy fills her spirit. She has made everyone better by her presence and walk in this life, and Judith’s love and magic live on in all of us who knew her and were and still are blessed by her.

Judith, you left no one behind because we all go with you and you with us! I love you, Big Sis.

Judith and Spoon at the CA Men’s Colony in the 1980s

Today I spoke to Judith for

the last time.

She is the bravest person I know

to keep being Judith

despite the tremendous pain

cutting at her body.

 

She said her time is close 

to gone and reminded me

to write something

knowing already that I would.

 

She is my mentor and big sis,

and one of my best friends ever.

 

She inspired and saw in me things

I would have never seen in myself.

I grew wings because of her.

Our spirits and hearts and our love

were linked from the beginning.

 

Even in our silence—you like

Mr. Samuel Beckett—we treasured

our silence.

 

I missed you long before

you were gone.

We will meet again long

across time and space

beyond dreams and boundaries.

 

December 3 and 4, no word from Judith and I keep trying to call. Anja received an email saying death is very close, so I picked up the frequency of my calls, and we connected briefly and expressed our love. Yesterday, I got a card from Judith, and she said it was a prayer she read or recited each time she went into San Quentin.

I knew she was gone three days before Anja tried to tell me over the phone. I asked her not to say those words, and I had to leave the phone because what I already knew in silence became too strong. I tried to get away and went outside and had nowhere to go—no place to hide my tears—and a stormy dark sky betrayed me and did not rain. It had been raining for two days. Judith Tannenbaum, my mentor and big sister—I did not get to hug and say so long—I’ll see you some other time and space over there where loved ones go. Another dimension beyond dreams, darkness and light. I missed you already even before you were gone. I’ll be free someday too, and we will fly together—someday, Big Sis. We wanted to do poetry on stage together. I love you.

I knew Judith

was physically gone

yet I called her number

and let the phone ring anyways

knowing no one would pick up.

It would take decades of rain

for my tears to be unseen.

 

There is not enough rain

to hold my pain,

not enough rain

to hide the pain

of my not being there.

 

You were always there

like an ancient redwood.

You told me you lay

on the floor

and found solace

from a radio show

in New Orleans,

radio that took you away

from the pain.

I should have been beside you

on the floor listening.

I should have been beside you

on long walks or hikes up Mt. Tam.

 

I should have been beside you

on stage, going back and forth

reading poetry.

 

I should have been beside you

because.

Click here to order a copy of Spoon and Judith’s memoir, By Heart: Poetry, Prison, and Two Lives. 

About the guest contributor:

“I’ve found my niche in life despite being in prison for 42 years. I have found that prisons are created internally and are truly found everywhere. I have also discovered that the secrets to break down prison walls are inside each person and I treasure sharing this realness with people. I keep my light glowing through expressing my inner thoughts, vibes and feelings in my poetry and prose writing. Peace/Spoon”

If you would like to connect with Spoon, send a letter to:

Spoon Jackson B92377, CSP-Solano, C 13-19-1, L., PO Box 4000, Vacaville, CA 95696/4000, USA

Visit Spoon’s website to read more of his poetry. JAC is honored that Spoon has agreed to serve as a member of our Advisory Council.

 

Beginnings

by Jeremy Sobek

Jeremy Sobek

I remember how I felt the first time I knew I was going to be an artist, I was in fourth grade, my teacher’s name was Mr. D. It was Halloween and the entire class was making paper plate masks as part of a contest. I had no cares for the contest, though. I was too absorbed in what I was creating. 

The night before, I begged my oldest brother to draw something scary on a paper plate. He was a pretty good artist, so my intentions were to present whatever my brother drew. After minutes of pestering he finally drew the face of a werewolf, blood dripping down sharp teeth. I was amazed. I remember going to bed late because I couldn’t stop staring at my werewolf paper plate mask.

The next day in class all the students were pulling out their masks adding last minute decorations of scariness. I grabbed a new paper plate from Mr. D and pulled out the mask my brother made. I started copying the werewolf onto my new paper plate and was extremely happy with the result. So I drew it again and again, probably ten times that morning feeling joy every time I started over.

From then on art became my everyday life. Instead of going to play basketball with my brothers I would be sitting in my room drawing. A few years later, 1997 to be exact, a cousin of mine came over one afternoon to hang out. He had no idea I was into drawing. A few of my scrap papers had on them two tags that I would write over and over, Devs and Vex, and they were high up on a building in my neighborhood. My cousin saw my copies and told me who the guys were and explained this game called graffiti. I was instantly hooked and haven’t stopped writing since. 

I have had some hard times in life and creating art has been the one positive act that has saved me. I was a gang involved youth, shot at, sliced with knives, was part of massive gang fights, racially profiled and harassed. At 13 years old my main focus besides art was to make it to see 18 years of age.

In 2013 I was the cause of a horrific accident involving a firearm that almost took the life of a loved one. I was arrested and spent the next two years in and out of court on bail, finally taking a plea. I served 2 ½  years. The hardest part of that experience was having to leave my son and hurting someone I truly cared about. 

I spent my time at the South Bay Corrections Facility. The first month I was completely depressed. I spoke to no one, barely ate and I slept most of the day. For whatever reason I decided to hang outside the cell one morning for rec. I noticed a couple of guys standing over this man who was drawing, without thought I went and sat down at the table. The man was drawing, in blue pen, a lion with a crown. We spoke briefly and before the rec was over I asked for a few pieces of paper and a pen. From then on I drew. The inmates became my clients and I drew tons of portraits, angels, teddy bears, hearts, skulls and graffiti. I also wrote poetry. I joined an essay writing class and was reintroduced to a lost passion. 

I realized the power of my art when I saw inmates smiling as they explained the images I drew  to their friends. Some would quietly go right to their cell, sit on their bed and stare at my work for minutes at a time. I wondered what memory they thought of as they sat in silence. Even correction officers would comment, “ Pretty good work, [Sobek],” as they raided my cell. 

The inmates encouraged me to do more with my art, for them and for myself. I wanted to create a business. Upon my release I decided to do whatever I must to accomplish my artistic goals. Since my release I have been part of  a documentary called ‘The Free Walls’, working closely with Olivia Huang and the Cambridge Arts Council. I was commissioned by Jamaica Plains Development Neighborhood Corp to create a mural with the residents at 75 Amory St. I’ve been a part of numerous art shows and hosted my own. I have been asked to participate in a street art documentary as one of the main artists with knowledge of Boston graffiti.

Although I believe this to be a significant resume since my release, I have yet to be accepted as a serious artist in the art world. I have been denied by a few of the organizations that sponsor large scale murals in Massachusetts. My determination to create on a larger scale led me to create my ‘Back Against The Wall’ initiative with the goal of bringing legal street art to Dorchester/Mattapan, my birth place. The art scene in Boston is unbalanced with most of the colorful and experimental street art happening in the wealthier parts of the city. I’m the product and proof that something beautiful can flourish in the dirtiest of places. 

“Take the art farther than where you found it,” I heard a man say in a documentary about Black music and arts. I say this phrase every day, for it leaves me with no choice but to see my goals through. I’m obligated to teach my son his family history and the history of all people of color. I’m obligated to speak on social justice, prejudices and inequalities because I’ve been subject to them. My power is my art and I will do what I must to take it farther than where I found it.

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For more about Jeremy and his current projects:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4Df-0CVEgzE&feature=share

https://abovethefreewalls.yolasite.com/

https://vimeo.com/218394030

https://www.cctvcambridge.org/node/682700

Support Jeremy’s City as Canvas: Above the Free Walls project here!

 

 

Teaching Artist Spotlight: Peggy Rambach

Recently we talked with Peggy Rambach, our newest addition to the Teaching Artist Spotlight series. Peggy facilitates pastel workshops and creative writing classes. She speaks on discovering art “late in life,” learning from her students, and what it’s like teaching in two seemingly disparate mediums.

 JAC: How have your students impacted your teaching practices and even your own art? What has been the most rewarding part of your experience working with incarcerated artists?

PR: “I can barely draw a stick figure.” This is what I hear again and again when I go into the units to recruit interested students for my pastel class. Three years ago, I would have said the same thing. So, I am impressed and inspired by my students’ willingness to take the risk and try to work in pastel in my class. I’m not sure I would have to same courage. 

 I have identified myself as a writer for the past 40 years and since I began working in pastel so recently, and so late in life – at the age of 59 – I am still unable to say aloud that I am a visual artist. I am more likely to think of myself as an imposter! But the majority of the women in the Women’s Program who choose to take my class, stick with it through the initial fear of failure and humiliation — along with the inevitable early frustration and confusion, since pastel, at the start, “looks like a big mess,” I say to them, and only later in the process, will they create recognizable images through the use of light and dark. 

 But stick with it they do. So, if my students have an impact on my art, it is to make me stick with it too when my confidence wanes, or when I, too, am frustrated with my attempts to achieve on the paper what I see in the world. 

 I also encourage my students to choose any photograph to work off of that they wish, any image that appeals to them, and they’ve chosen photos of foxes, of peacocks, of farmland and farm houses, of salt marshes, Irish cliffs, and mount Kilimanjaro with elephants grazing in the valley below. I look at their choice, make a big sigh, and say, “Okay. We’ll figure this out.” And together we work on developing the technique and choosing the layers of colors necessary to create the image– images that I have certainly never painted or drawn myself in my short tenure as a pastel artist. So, there’s no question that with my students, I’m learning all the time, both as an artist and as a teacher. 

 I know many of my students have been through unspeakable trauma and are living with uncertainty and under the stress of confinement, so I am sensitive to their moods and well-being. As a teaching-artist in Corrections or in any setting that is non-traditional, one must always be alert and flexible and innovative. For instance, I have no studio. We work on classroom walls and windows.  And after two years I finally have a full cabinet all to myself in which to store my supplies.  

 But I’m not complaining. I’m grateful that I received the supplies from the Sheriff’s Department in the first place, and that the Sheriff’s Department recognizes the value of arts in Corrections. And clearly, I like the challenge of the environment along with the kind of diplomacy it takes to work with, and not against, Security. 

 I also teach creative writing and that is a little different. Visual art can take one out of oneself, be meditative and calming. Writing too, is a deep and meditative experience, but the writer must be willing to go to more uncomfortable places as a means of revealing greater universal truths about human experience. So, the process of writing a poem or short story or essay can be emotionally challenging, but also emotionally restorative and healing in a deep and lasting way. And writing is just plain hard: making a swirl of thoughts and emotions into a recognizable and communicative form is, understandably, daunting. So those who join my class and stick with it, are often driven to get an experience down – many times as a means of putting it to rest or as a way of grieving for someone they’ve loved and lost. 

 And of course many simply love language and are willing to undertake the discipline required to endure my “chicken scratch” as one student calls it – to revise, to go deeper, to learn the techniques necessary to make an experience not just a written record but a work of art that leads to epiphany. My students, like all of us, are fragile under their public exteriors. But that is not a reason to lower my standards for excellence. The environment in which I’m teaching them, should not lead anyone to assume that they are less able to achieve the kind of excellence we require of students in traditional academic settings. And when they do achieve what I know they can, they are grateful. And when they thank me, they thank me for pushing them, for not giving up on them, for having the faith that they can and will bring something into the world that is beautiful and meaningful, and that will last. Often this achievement is their very first one like it. And for me, their triumph is undeniably gratifying. Art, and teaching two forms of it to my incarcerated students fills my life with meaning and purpose.

 JAC: The JAC, as it grows, will continue to seek out and implement a vision of how to better support teaching artists. In your view, what does a supportive network need to include?

 PR: I would like to go to regional conferences of teaching-artists in Corrections and share our experiences and practices. I’d like to know who is out there, really, to meet them in-person. I don’t have a lot of time or the patience to read a lot online. But I’d take the time to attend a gathering in my state of Massachusetts, maybe listen to a few speakers and offer to speak myself. I think we should reach out to young artists in MFA programs who might be interested in the field. When I possibly retire from my position in 5 to 7 years, it saddens me to think that no one will take my place and the program, and all of its value, will simply disappear.  

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Pastels by Peggy’s students

Peggy Rambach, M.A., M.F.A. has received grants and awards for her writing, and for her contribution to literacy and the Healing Arts. She is the author of a novel, (Steerforth Press), a collection of stories, (Ampersand Press) and the editor of two collections of memoirs (Paper Journey Press) that emerged from her community writing workshops  She is one of three artists featured in the documentary: The Healing Arts; New Pathways to Health. (From Peggy’s website, which you can view here!)

 

Read our last Teaching Artist spotlight, featuring Hakim Bellamy.

 

 

 

Who is Mark Andreason?

by Mark Andreason*

I'm Tired
I’m Tired, Mark Andreason. From Mark’s friend: “Mark tells the story of being tired of feeling like he is in a fish bowl where others ogle at him while in his cell.”

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.

My Ol' Lady
My Ol’ Lady, Mark Andreason. Described by Mark as, “the woman who has been behind [me] in the shadows, supporting [me] while incarcerated.”
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 Average Art, 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!

The Markabo Swell
The Markabo Swell, Mark Andreason. “My transgressions have cost me more than 30 years of my life behind bars. Once upon a time, the thought of being released seemed overwhelmingly out of reach. No more. The love of one good woman has shown me how to believe in my talent and not fall to temptation. And we go forward together.” 

 

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.