Artist Spotlight: John Zenc

This month, we’ll be putting our Artist Spotlight on John Zenc. Zenc supplied JAC with a collection of his own thoughts, excerpts of his artistic process, as well as various copies of his artwork. But first, an introduction to his life and work, (Human Mask of Life;) (Hidden Fears.), in Zenc’s own words:

JZ: A little history of myself. Born Feb. 3, 1957 — Honolulu, Hawaii. Been married two times. No kids, now divorced. I enlisted in the United States Army at age 15. I made a birth certificate, later my age was discovered. But when I turned 17, I re-enlisted. Both honorable discharges. I know and secretly went out with Natalie Wood, the famous actress.

Several [of my] pieces were sold to John Lennon and Johnny Carson, T.V. Personality.

My art work is now all around the world. Many people have my kids. My art is my kids. I gave life to each piece.

JZ (continued): Enclosed a prison news article about me. . . a public document written by inmates for the prison news paper.

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Introduction to (Human Mask of Life;) (Hidden Fears.), a collection of art by John Zenc

More recent work by Zenc:

JZ: In the years, I threw hundreds of my drawings away, because I was unhappy [with] the way they turned out.

Experimental Drawing #1 - 2009
“Zenc X-1” by John Zenc

JZ: Elsa, a survivor of the WWII concentration camps. Spent 3 years there. When she got out she was ashamed. So she would hide behind the pretty flowers. But she had nothing to be ashamed of.

The WWII Survivor - 2011
“The WWII Survivor” by John Zenc

JZ: Too many school shootings. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

Trapped in Net, the School - 2009
“Trapped in Net, the School” by John Zenc

JZ: I did so much in the 1970s. Hitchhiked three times across the U.S.A. This piece is kind of a 1970s flashback. Good memories. I loved the song in the 1970s called Let’s Get It On by Marvin Gaye. I loved my first girl friend, then Debby.

1970 - From Within
“From Within” by John Zenc

JZ: The working girl has to survive, make a living, her broken body is her only way to make money, so she carries on. No woman is perfect. I love this piece. Distorted body, fair. I love it.

The Working Girl, Smoking Cigarette - 1982
“The Working Girl Smoking Cigarette” by John Zenc

JZ: Preachers in general lie, all musical notes, the time. . . The ones who beg for money all the time. Dig deep in your pockets. Wow, these preachers should be ashamed of themselves.

Lying to God (you can run but you can't hide)- 2012
“Lying to God – You Can Run but You Can’t Hide” by John Zenc

JZ: (On “Old Man Smoking Pipe”) I can’t stop thinking. Only 2 hours at a time I can sleep. The other 22 hours, I think, and think, never any real rest. I think of many things, times and space. God?

Old Man Smoking Pipe
“Old Man Smoking Pipe” by John Zenc

JZ: You will be my designated person, because I have nobody left in life. . . I am very lonely in here. I have no one left. The feeling of loneliness is a painful, horrible feeling, a pain like no other. I have broken many bones in my body during my life, but the pain of loneliness is the most painful. Sometimes I wonder if God ever cares for me.

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John Zenc

JZ: The man juggled his life long enough. Now he’s free.

 

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Becoming Whole: the Joy of Creation

by Tomás

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.