I was introduced to the Prison Creative Arts Project (PCAP) through a friend's invitation to the 1998 Art Exhibition. Before the show I was skeptical, anticipating mediocre paintings exhibited as a novelty under the idealistic heading of "Prisoner Art." What I discovered instead was often astounding talent, both in concept and technique.

In Cary Saterian's painting, a woman's eyes, opaque, haunted and unnerving, seemed to plead the disembodied words that floated above her head: "Hear my voice." Another work, by Charles Young, portrayed an African American man in shackles posing defiantly 'in front of the US flag. The title read, "Changing of America—The Black Man's Nightmare." Not all artworks were overtly political; most were nature scenes, portraits, fantasies or pure abstraction. The media ranged from charcoal, acrylics, pastels and colored pencil to canvas or cardboard. All were created by Michigan prisoners, many during workshops facilitated by the Prison Creative Arts Project, which grew out of a U-M English literature class.

Because most of the artists could not attend their own exhibition, reading their biographies posted below their artwork was like hearing disembodied voices pleading to be recognized. I began to realize that being dismissive of such programs is an easy route to avoid listening.

Alexander

During the past 10 years, the PCAP has facilitated regular art, theater and creative writing workshops in Michigan prisons, juvenile facilities and some Detroit high schools. The idea for the group evolved from English 319: "Literature and Social Change," a class taught by Prof. William R. "Buzz" Alexander. It began in 1990, when a student asked Alexander if two inmates at Florence Crane Women's Facility in Coldwater, Michigan, could take the class. He agreed, and was pleased with the way this integration echoed the theme of the course.

Students Run Workshops

We're Number One! According to the Sentencing Project, the United States is the world leader in the rate of imprisoning its citizens and for the disproportionately high number of Blacks, Hispanics and Native Americans in the imprisoned population. Currently, African American women are the fastest-growing sector in the correctional facilities. The Federal Bureau of Justice reports that the incarcerated population grew an average of 5.8 percent annually between 1990 and 1998, while politicians' rhetoric simultaneously promised to "crack down" on crime by building more prisons.

The next year, Alexander transformed English 319 into a way for students to run theater workshops in prisons for class credit. The popularity of that class spawned English 310, which allows students to run workshops for all the arts. Janie Paul, a lecturer in the School of Art and Design coordinates a related visual arts-based class. In 1998, continued success inspired Paul to start separate project in juvenile facilities and high schools, which has received several grants and much praise from the University and neighboring communities.

Alexander and Paul seem inexhaustible in their commitment to the rehabilitation of prisoners. They are quick to cite America's rising incarceration and harsher penalties for nonviolent crime as the fuel of their determination. "Why are we doing this in America?" Alexander wonders. "We didn't grow up to expect to be the richest and the most-incarcerated nation. My sense is it's a national shame."

Scissors and Pens

Photo by Jamie Paul The Prison Creative Arts team on retreat in preparation for the 2000-01 year. Front l-r: Liz Idris '00 with daughter Sophia, Mlissa Birkle '94 and Ari Leichtman '02. Back l-r: Sabrina Alli '00, Sacha Feirstein '99, Janie Paul and Pilar Anadon '95.

Every PCAP volunteer I spoke with could rattle off statistics and legislation. As Pilar Anadon '95, a coordinator of PCAP within U-M's Arts of Citizenship Program, patiently answered my questions about which kinds of scissors and pens weren't allowed in the prisons, I got the sense that some of my questions were a tad sensationalistic, inspired by media images of prison life that don't extend much beyond crime thrillers and "Jailhouse Rock." When Anadon mentioned that a big goal of PCAP is to "demystify" prisoners, I realized that in addition to expanding participants' horizons PCAP exists to enlighten people like me, whose perception of prison is obscured by mythology.

Undergraduate students lead the bulk of the workshops. PCAP usually has 40 members, the majority of whom are students from different disciplines. A few, like Anadon, remain involved after graduation. Anadon joined the project after watching a female prisoner read a scene describing some of the pain that was ever-present in her life. "At first, it was difficult to watch. Then, I felt honored that she would share this with me, that she would take that risk. I learned what a risk can do, the ripple and effect.'

Before being admitted to the prisons and facilities. all students and other volunteers must interview with Alexander and Paul. "We are very tough-minded during the interviews," Alexander says. "Students must bring total respect for everyone they will encounter."

Training Takes Weeks
Selected students attend orientation and several weeks of training. They are made to understand that the prison rules come first, even if they may seem unfair, and that they should absolutely never compromise the security of the program by doing a favor for a prisoner. Students are also given different ideas for theater, art and writing exercises.

The next step is orientation at the prisons, where volunteers learn the routines, rules and safety precautions of the facility. Before each workshop a facilitator must fill out a "manifest," a detailed report of exactly what articles she plans to bring in to the prison.

Each visitor gets an ID and gets "shaken down" to make sure he or she is free of contraband and car keys. A guard checks the tongue, hair and shoes, and makes sure females are wearing a bra. At some prisons, facilitators must also cross the prison yard, which can make woman initially feel like the equivalent of being tossed to the wolves. "It's like the stereotype of a construction site, with catcalls and hooting," Anadon savs. "It can be very intimidating, especially for women who have never experienced this kind of thing before." She is quick to add, however, that PCAP members feel that Michigan prisons provide excellent security for all volunteers.

Once inside, prison workshops function more or less like their collegiate equivalents. A typical ratio is two facilitators to 15 students. In a workshop a facilitator might suggest writing a letter to someone on the outside or composing a short poem about childhood. Unlike most theater classes, PCAP's workshops are wholly improvisational and help prisoners prepare to speak in front of an audience.

Advice for Columbine Shooters
Prison writers and actors often focus on the hard realities of prison life or on current social issues, like AIDS, abuse, poverty, or crime. Anadon says, "The prisoners like to offer solutions to problems that are already out there. There's this desire to provide answers and reconnect with the community." In one play, prisoners scripted and acted out a conversation with the students who committed the fatal shootings in Columbine, Colorado, advising them to rethink their decisions and work toward going to college instead of toward violence.

At the end of theater workshops, prisoners perform for an audience of other prisoners and PCAP volunteers. Before it was disallowed by the Michigan Department of Corrections, prisoners' families attended the performances, where they were often astonished to see their loved one in such a different, more redeeming, context. Performing helps prisoners "feel validated for something else," says Sara Falls '00, a PCAP facilitator. "They feel like something other than a criminal."

Many prisoners have never benefited from what most University students and graduates take for granted: strong role models who will identify and praise their individual talents. Falls, who has also student-taught in a public high school, noticed "a strong connection between students who learned to not value themselves as learners" and prisoners.

An Undeserved 'Perk'?
Not everyone agrees on the benefits of all aspects of the workshops, however. PCAP volunteers must remain flexible, because many legislators propose limits on prison "perks." The prisons disallow plays or writings containing ideas they suspect might upset their structure of discipline; however, officers have told Anadon they find that the workshops in fact "help prisoners let off steam and make security easier to manage."

Perhaps PCAP's most effective outreach in spring to the University and community is the Annual Exhibition of Art by Michigan Prisoners at Rackham, now in its fifth year. This year's show featured 281 artworks from 35 prisons. The exhibitions have attracted prominent prisoners-rights activists, such as Jimmy Santiago Baca and Sister Helen Prejean.

What PCAP gives in effort ("We work on the show eight months out of the year," Alexander says), the community meets with enthusiasm, buying this year a record $11,500 worth of art. All money went to the artists, who also received a copy of the comments in the visitors' book. A videotape of the reception, which included shots of each work on displays was also sent to participating prisons. "Many prisoners just live for this show," Paul says. "They spend all year thinking about it."

Support Is Hardly Universal
As PCAP members know. suspicion of prisoners and the causes that support them is rife within America. Facilitators risk alienation from friends and family, who may be unsympathetic to their choice of activism.

Alexander explains that working with prisoners may create tension in peer groups, especially when volunteers return to their hometowns. Friends and family are usually curious, but they may also be judgmental. Furthermore, victims of crime may feel betrayed by efforts to "understand" prisoners.

Sara Falls tells me that one of the biggest challenges she has faced in the prisons is working with men who may have committed sexual assault. "I have friends who have been abused. And there are actually facilitators who are survivors [of sexual assault]. It can be hard. There are a lot of walls."

When she says "walls" I think of the literal as well as the metaphoric truth of her statement. What cannot be seen can be ignored. Some prison activists believe that the government uses prisons as containers for troubled people they have no interest in rehabilitating or reintegrating into society. Many prisoners have been abused or suffered trauma or violence before committing the crime that sent them to prison. Many PCAP volunteers told me that despite their training it surprised them to learn how hard it was to address so many varied and troubled histories, all in the same workshop, all trying to express themselves.

'Its Easy for Them Not to Trust Us'
Meanwhile, the prisoners make their own leaps of faith. Accustomed to being studied by academia, they must learn to trust that student interlopers-who often come from a different racial and/or socioeconomic background—have a sincere interest in their lives. "It's very easy for them not to trust us Falls says. "They think we just want to have something to tell our friends about, to say 'look at how good we are.'"

But once participants, especially juveniles, are shown respect and trust, they learn how to seek it again, Alexander has found. And once facilitators feel the positive effect they are having in others' lives, they also learn how to seek it again. Many of the PCAP volunteers develop ail interest in educational reform, and some become teachers. Nearly all continue their activism with marginalized communities.

Terrence Campagna, a 1999 graduate of the School of Art, volunteers in juvenile facilities. He began volunteering in part because he had "the desire to work with people whom I had grown up in an upper-middle-class, white community being educated to fear."

Campagna relates a story about a boy in a juvenile facility who painted the Grim Reaper crying in a field of roses. The boy explained that Death was crying because he was surrounded by beauty; then the boy confessed that his friends didn't understand why he created artwork. As Campagna listened to the boy talk about his art, he was amazed to be "part of creating an opportunity where his voice was being appreciated and his talents, intelligence and sensitivity valued."

Funds From Foundation and State PCAP relies on donations from local businesses and University organizations to buy materials and fund the exhibition. They have received grants from such sources as the U-M Arts of Citizenship Program, the Kellogg Foundation and the Michigan Council for Arts and Cultural Affairs, as well as from private patrons. PCAP also coordinates an annual scholarship fund drive for artists leaving prison, and raised $3,500 in its first fund-raising effort.

Ann Savageau, a lecturer in art at U-M's Residential College, who has taught in the program for two years, echoes this sentiment. She remembers a 19-year-old who, upon his release, told her of his plan to become an artist and teacher. She expresses disbelief that anyone could question the worth of the workshops and offers an additional, pragmatic reason to support programs like PCAP: "It's in our own selfish interest to make a difference in the prisoners' lives. These are people who may one day be on the outside, in our own community."

In other words, the voice on the canvas could eventually be the voice at the next table or behind you on the sidewalk--proximate, relevant and unmiustakably human.

Sarah Beldo of Menominee, Michigan, received her BA in Creative Writing and English Literature in 1999. She is pursuing a career in writing and editing in San Francisco.