~ God told me to be an artist, week 14.
Friday 10th March 2023.
Tuesday morning, in a small classroom, above a gym in a men's prison, I did a calligraphy class with 7 men. Their pens slid across the paper, their hands in flow, their spirits at ease, a peacefulness filled the space.
I noticed myself smiling as I looked around the room. A small collection of materials, several plates of biscuits of course, and we had created an arty sanctuary, a place of focus, calm and joy. Now this may seem quite a reasonable and expected atmosphere for an art workshop, but this is prison. There's alarms and the constant jangling of keys. There's people moving, shouting, being escorted around the site, doors banging, locks clanging. Radios buzz and you are very rarely alone, even when you go to the toilet.
There are people with extremely strict personal care and those who's declining mental health or desperation is causing them to feel unable to look after themselves at all. Some people are in a rhythm and some are banging their heads against the wall, refusing the believe this is their home. Understandably, it's so terrible inside.
You can establish a routine in prison but the constant threat of violence and unpredictability of the environment keeps your senses heightened continuously. Imagine that, being in fight or flight mode at all times. Its exhausting and ultimately it cannot be sustained.
So you see why creating moments of peace, joy and creativity are a God send and a rare experience in prison. It's hard to believe it's actually happening and it transports you out of hell and into a new place. A piece of heaven on earth.
Hence my smile. My broad, cheshire cat smile as I paused my speaking momentarily to look around the room and see the flurry of activity and enjoyment.
My quiet appreciation time was brief and cut short by a booming scottish accent...
"Miss, you've done it."
"Done what?"
"You've finally found a way to keep him quiet." the scottish fellow continued, gesturing to another.
It was true, an extremely lively character was mesmerised by his calligraphy pen as he learned the blackletter alphabet. Although realising someone was talking about him his boisterous Geordie accent replied...
"He's right Miss, I love this, I'm absolutely obsessed with this."
I love these classes, they mean the world to me. It's so powerful to see the transformational power of art making happening in front of your eyes, in real time! It's astonishing and a complete privilege to witness. But I believe there's something much bigger going on in art classrooms, something more than the art activity itself.
The art making is a big part of it for sure, learning new skills, seeing your ability develop and finding new activities to enjoy, but as the group gets to know one another and the teacher, in this case me, something new emerges.
Trust and comfortability begin to appear. In prison this is a sacred experience as many can go through a whole sentence without ever feeling either. I've noticed over the years that as people begin to soften into the art space, they begin to share. Stories, memories, ideas, dreams, the possibility of offering something and it being received by others. This is an essential human experience and in the art classroom it can be realised.
People want to share their lives, they really do. Even those who are closed and seem suspicious of anything or anyone new, they still want to be seen, validated and accepted. We're designed to be in relationship, it's in our DNA.
So, let's return back to my Tuesday morning classroom. I'm grinning from ear to ear as the men complete their blackletter calligraphy exercises and I notice the scottish gentlemen beckoning me over to his station following his brief joke about keeping the Geordie man quiet.
Until today he has played the role of class clown, involved in conversation but deflecting when anyone speaks of something real or emotional. Now, of course it's important that I, as facilitator, keep the room and conversations in a safe place, making sure we don't slip into dangerous or triggering territory, but many emotional exchanges are really helpful and help people form new friendships.
But, I'd noticed that this particular gentlemen had brushed off other people's advances to include him in conversations about 'real' things and life. He would make jokes and innuendo to swerve anyones attempt at support or friendship.
Yet, today something new began to happen for him. He seemed interested in sharing a little more of himself. Like a baby deer gently placing its hoof on a frozen pond, tentatively at first.
I responded to his beckon and sat beside him.
He was completing a different exercise to the rest of the group as he didn't want to do calligraphy. He had requested information on how to create comic strips and I was more than happy to provide. What an exciting and creative way for him to express his humour I thought.
He showed me his work so far and asked for some technical help with how to create his characters. After several minutes of back and forth he looked at me and said...
"Miss, have you ever played D&D?"
"I've heard of it, it's characters in a mythical world right?"
His eyes lit up.
"Yes, but it's so much more than that!"
He then launched into a deep description of Dungeons and Dragons, explaining how you form your characters, how you play in a group, who the dungeon master is and why that's important. He told me of friends and experiences he'd had within the game, meaningful and comical. He was animated from head to toe and explained to me that the comic strip he'd created was inspired by a real interaction he had had during one of his D&D games.
He let me into his world and shared with me something that was seemingly extremely important to him.
"Miss, you've got to try D&D...you'd love it, it's so creative and you never know what's going to happen."
"You can be anyone you want to be in there."
With this last comment, his eyes and shoulders sank and he seemed deeply pensive momentarily. His eyes appeared to venture somewhere into his memory, just for a second. I wondered if he was thinking about how he'd ended up in prison.
A second later another voice in the room interrupted, asking a question about D&D and with that the rest of the room erupted with responses, ideas and their own stories. Not everyone had played the game or even seemed to like it, but people were interested in hearing more about it, more about the scottish man's life.
The conversation lasted quite some time and I felt my cheshire cat smile returning. This is what the art room does, it creates points of entry for people to reveal who they are and what's important to them. They can express their ideas and styles in the art work and often it will bring forth memories, ideas and discussions.
I must say, I'm not a huge fan of mythical worlds or fantasy games, but I was more than happy to sit and listen to the groups experiences and opinions of it. It was a lively debate where people appeared comfortable in sharing why the game was so important to them or what they didn't understand about it. Admitting you don't know something is very brave in prison, it's showing vulnerability, another thing an established relational art room can inspire and allow.
This conversation led to talking about relationships in the real world and those which are active and those which have gone away. It was meaningful and people encouraged one another that they could rebuild connections in the future, that they were worthy of being cared for and loved.
Not bad for an art class about calligraphy and a conversation about D&D. Just like playing a fantasy game with a roll of a dice, you never quite know how an art class is going to go. The exercise is just the starting point, the group and the growing relationships within it decide where it's going to go. As the teacher or facilitator you're not the main character, you're a supporting role, just making sure everyone remains safe really.
I'm not convinced necessarily that I need to start playing D&D, but you better believe I'm going to read up about it so I can contribute to future conversations and make sure I show up for the guys in this group to whom many this game is an important survival strategy.
As I often say, I'm not entirely sure of all I'm supposed to be doing in this life, but teaching and sharing art in prisons is definitely part of it, it sets my soul on fire. Teaching calligraphy and talking about the endless possibilities of Dungeons and Dragons was an absolute gift on Tuesday this week.
Amidst the current challenges of pursuing God for my direction in life there are moments like Tuesday where I feel unbelievably blessed and grateful to be on this uncertain journey. I am honoured to see these groups develop and share their lives in the art room. It's a gift that I wouldn't give up for an easier path.
I wonder if you'll humour me and ask yourself the following questions...
What sets your soul ablaze?
What makes you feel like you are completely in sync, internally and externally?
What brings you joy?
What causes you to smile like a cheshire cat?
Now as long as it doesn't harm you or others, is there a way to do more of it?
It might just be your purpose, or a part of it at least.
I'm finding that I'm becoming more open to the idea that my purpose is multifaceted and God has placed certain things in my path for me to focus on whilst he develops my character for what's coming next. I'm more than happy to keep making art with people in prison and having such wonderful conversations for as long as God wants me there.
Where do you think He wants you?
See you next week, Cath x
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