As a teaching artist, as a human being, I would be lying if I did not say I would love to travel the world, to depart to unknown places to infuse my work and to share my art. There are a host of warm hearts in Sweden and France I would treasure meeting.
But I am an artist confined physically by concrete, steel and electric wires for 35 years. Sometimes teaching artists must stay put by choice or circumstance, yet their hearts, minds and spirits must still travel. Somewhere I read you don’t have to travel the world to know the hearts of man. These days I am not even able to travel past the bars of my own cell.
An officer told me today that a pair of geese came up to the art room fence, honking for me this morning, as loud as fog horns – their voices echoing throughout the corridor. But I will not be there today, at least not physically, because we are on lock-down for I do not know how long.
There was a riot yesterday(*), on the big yard, between some black and brown prisoners. I will not be allowed out of the cage to run my classes... Read the whole essay at Alt/Space
(* the riot referred to is the one in November 2011)