The Mourning Our Losses traveling memorial, We Shall Remember brings to Makes Me Wanna Holla a multi-sensory experience of COVID-19 in prison using sound, statistics and the artistry of those currently and formerly incarcerated to speak to the horrors of the pandemic.
2023 Exhibited Artists & Runners Up
Exhibited pieces: Medicine Man (left in charcoal) and Spirit World (above), by Maikio
Exhibited piece: What These Walls Won’t Hold by Adamu Chan, Film
Set against the backdrop of the COVID-19 pandemic at San Quentin State Prison, WHAT THESE WALLS WON’T HOLD, chronicles the organizing and relationships of people who came together beyond the separations created by incarceration, to respond to this crisis. Filmmaker Adamu Chan, who was incarcerated at San Quentin during the height of the COVID-19 outbreak in 2020, documents his path through incarceration and beyond.
Exhibited pieces: Life/Faith (left) and Hope (above), by Anonymous
Exhibited piece:
William Covid
by Sonny
Ink on Paper
Exhibited piece: Remember Me by Alberto Nunez; Ink and Watercolor on Canvas
Exhibited piece: Social Distancing (left) and Safety Protocol (right) by Brian Hindson; Acrylic on paper
Untitled
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by JD
C/O !
I need a med-tech
I can’t taste or smell
Yelled throughout the cellhouse
But nobody coming
We expendable
So malpractice is the practice
Where they rather get sued than give you proper medical care
Cuz who cares about a criminal?
Whether we live or die
So no treatment for the symptoms
COVID-19
Herded like animals
They say spreading the virus kills it quicker
Instead of isolating you in quarantine
But now you a victim
I5 dead in this prison
How many more statewide?
Mourn you til I join you, cliché
I just hate y’all died while locked inside, touche’.
Exhibited piece: Covid Relief by Caldwell; Pencil on Paper
Exhibited Piece:
Stateville Lost Soul’s
by Carlos J Ayala
Graphite
Exhibited Piece: Wear Your Mask, Dirty Inmate! by Cuong 'Mike' Tran; Acrylic on Canvas
Exhibited piece: Palm vs. Storm by D. Nicholls; Watercolor
Exhibited Pieces: Big Spank by Devon Daniels; Graphite and Colored Pencil
Exhibited piece: Invisible No More by Darrell Fair; Acrylic, Colored Marker & Pencil, Ink
Exhibited piece:
R.I.P
By Cedar Annenkovna
Graphite and Color Pencil
Running
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by E. L. Burnside
Running from inoculation
Scared and afraid due to incarceration
Watching violence evolve into something uncontrollable
Running, running is something they have conformed to Afraid of what the Government will do next
Resistance has prevented what’s to come next
Protection. Protection?
Is it really real what the world is facing?
Vaccination have come so quick
Looking around and everyone is sick
Running, running
Hiding under the covers to cloak an existence
Hoping stubbornness will protect the persistence Persistence of these different variants that have taken many lives
Running, running to keep up the good fight Yet, that fight has dimmed the light
Running, running has slowed to a walk
Thoughts of Logan’s health care has made them fall
Fall victim to a known deadly virus
No more running, running no more
Norma Short had finally stopped resisting
It was no longer in her
Her running had come to a halt.
Exhibited Pieces: Untitled Artwork and ‘The Free’ Poem by Efrain Alcaraz
Exhibited Piece:
Fighting to Breathe
By Ernesto Valle
Untitled
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by Erika
How can walls and doors close in on folks they will never open for… A silence is submerged by the sound of restless heaving and savagely beating coughs. Women dare not to breathe, scurrying about–taking quaint sips of air. Two bodies are rushed to the same hospital–prisoners of carceral’s intimately vengeful hand. Death contorts their spirits from virus filled into sorrows spill–age–of a lost generation, generating small town economic stability, as their foundations crumble under greed and lust filled dreams of state lawmakers. Their children don’t know, they have learned to live without a mother’s hand. Their mothers are gone–left holding on, hoping one day their stolen daughters will be free. Then their daughters have daughters and sons, and some believe they might have the protection of elders that have passed on. Covid restrictions lifted–but correctional officers never wore their masks. Covid restrictions lifted–but the prison still restricts visits. Covid restrictions lifted–and stories circulate that the virus was a hoax–but we are still missing two women–and they are not looking for them. There were no funerals, no fare-thee-well goodbye’s for those being released–no CNN coverage about a prisoner’s escape, so maybe walls and doors do close in on folks they will never open for…
Exhibited Piece:
RIP Beautiful
By George Paniaqua
Exhibited Pieces: One Life, One Love, One Blood (left) and This Can Not Be Life (right) by Randy Colon, Acrylic on Canvas
COVID-19 Pandemic, I Survived
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by JA-HEE
Several people were sick and dying of COVID-19
How could so many ignore the signs —
Maybe it was by design;
President Trump called it Kung Flu—
Do not panic only six americans died,
Put your worry aside;
Numbers multiplied real quick —
They are still counting.
As of today over a million died;
Worldwide several million are sick.
How I remember —
See around March twenty twenty,
I was COVID-19 sick plenty —
Rushed from Stateville Prison —
At Saint Joseph’s Medical Center,,
Did I enter;
Two weeks was I there —
I was on a liquid diet and ventilator,
Yes, look at me, do not stare;
Alive while eleven others died —
Fatal as a sliced cable inside that elevator;
I SURVIVED BY GOD’S HANDS.
Exhibited Piece:
From Pandemic Pain
By Jeff-Free / H. DAoust
Sketch/Collage
Exhibited Pieces: The Tipping Point - The Angry Mob and 22 Hours in My Mind by John Zenc; Colored Pencil
Exhibited Piece: Room With A “View” by Joseph Dole; Acrylic on Bristol Board
Exhibited Piece:
Distance
By Keith Thomas
Collage
Exhibited Piece: Offering by Jonathan C Marvin; Cut paper on board
Exhibited Piece: Get Vaxxed by Juan Luna; Colored Pencil
My Heart, My Mind, My Breath
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by Lonnie Smith
The mood that fills my heart today
is one of sadness.
Knowing a cloud of darkness hovers
over us, creating a new March Madness.
We are now a captive of something
more powerful than the IDOC.
We’re helpless incarcerated citizens
trying to survive COVID-19.
The effects of trauma are closing in,
how can I cope with the triggers from within?
I don’t know whether to fight, flight, or freeze,
every time I hear a cough, sniffle or sneeze.
Will this virus be the death of me?
I’m pleading to you Governor,
Sign my emergency clemency, please, please, please!
Free me from COVID-19.
I have an underlying condition.
I need help and need it now
I tell my mind to breathe . . .
1
2
3
But I still don’t feel relieved.
12 men lay dead within these walls, because of COVID-19.
I am in a constant battle of disbelief and uncertainty
as US soldiers ask me, can I take
your temperature, please?
A constant reminder of COVID-19.
People are removed in the middle of the night,
to find themselves housed in that dilapidated site,
under the guise of fighting COVID-19.
What was once dead will never die; the
notorious F house has opened again.
Like Scarface said: say hello to my little friend.
Gone are all the cheers of its closing, as it
is given new life as an epicenter waiting ward.
Decrepit and full of mold, it is our version of
the USS Hope, geez thanks (sad emoji) COVID-19.
Through it all this round house just
Keeps on rolling. What is dead never dies.
Wish it was the same about women and men.
That we could be granted new life by the Governor’s pen.
Maybe then I could shelter in, with family
and friends and live my life again.
Without having the National Guard
sheltering me in. Could this be where
decarceration begins?
If so, we’ve found the silver lining
of COVID-19 in the end.
Exhibited Piece: Help by Marshall Stewart; Watercolor and Acrylic
Exhibited Piece:
Freedom in Death
by Michelle Daniel Jones
Poem and Painting
Freedom in Death
Time
Count time
Lunch time
Work time
Sleep time
Time of exposure
Equal jeopardy
Both the incarcerated
and free
Time of incubation
plagued with symptoms and worry
Both unfree
No securities
Time of infection
Embodied misery
Heightened and strained for thee
Behind walls unseen
Time of isolation
Watching friends seethe
Self In pain and discomfort
Ignored and unmet are the needs
Time of trepidation
The power of COVID-19
Caged inside a cage
Only death itself did free
Time eternal
Count time
Lunch time
Sleep time
Sick time
Death time
Free time
Exhibited Piece: Afrofuturism is Abolition Feminism Now and Tomorrow by Reginald BoClair; Collage
Exhibited Piece:
The Forgotten Women of COVID-19
By Renaldo Hudson
Smile and Wave
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by Mesro Dhu Rafa’a
Humanity
Is shown through our stories and quirks.
It is plain for us to see
Just how othering works.
Rumor and conjecture tells
of those who may have passed away;
for those condemned cells,
The news reports their names for just one day.
I heard of Joe,
who was known to stretch the truth some.
Mealy-mouthed, as stories go.
I heard him one-and-done!
Make sure you tell David Reed,
Richard Stitely, Dewayne Carey,
the people decreed
they made society very scary.
It’s truly sad,
Scott Erskine, Joseph Cordova,
that some people are quite glad
that your lives are over.
More lives have been lost inside
Manuel Machado Alvarez,
precious human lives
with parents, wives, husbands, children and friends.
The loss of life
during disasters and outbreaks
can present challenges like
crossing finish line tape.
In the marathon of hope,
the track gets longer and longer
when Death rounds a slope
and it takes more effort to be stronger.
How many more?
The list I have is incomplete.
Here, many humans are stored
and crimes is all we speak.
How many people have died
working hard so their lives will change?
As their souls pass by,
All we can do now is just smile and wave . . .
Exhibited Piece:
The Astro Zombies Gig Poster
By Rick
Colored Pencil
Exhibited Piece: Release by Robert Curry; Paint
Exhibited Pieces: Untitled by Michael Sullivan
The Idea of Etheridge
Exhibited Piece: A Poem by Tara Betts
Etheridge described forty-seven pictures
taped to the wall of his cell.
i cannot help wondering how many prisons
forbid pictures now, forbid the tape
claim contraband, claim hallucinogens
in the adhesive, claim that screened scans
in black & white compare to crayon-sketched rainbows’
or a child’s handprint traced in glitter.
would curlicued script of love letters be allowed
torn to white bits falling like dead moths
during the 4am search.
a dim cell—bleak with bunks and toilet
the water runs light yellow at its clearest.
so little inhabits a box that a person
is permitted to touch, hold, and cherish
—a box of memories rifled through, snatched, treated
like trash. a box under a bed, or in a corner,
smaller than all the boxes of people stacked on people
raised so many stories high, that vertigo leans you
backward, a high-rise library of lives waiting.
Exhibited Piece: Freedom = Mindblown by M. Sketch Vetor
Exhibited Piece: Why Me Covid? by Stan-Bey, Acrylic Ink on Canvas
Exhibited Piece:
Untitled
By William Jones
Exhibited Piece: Still We Rise from the Rubble by Jami Renee
Exhibited Piece: There Is ‘ONE’ Who Cares by Willie Spates