The Other Side
The Invisible Dog Art Center
September 12- November 21, 2020
The Other Side reflects our experience as artists working with over 500 inmates at eight different New York City correctional facilities over nine years. When it comes to incarceration, there is the “inside,” with inmates accused or convicted of crimes, and the “outside,” where the rest of us, guilty or not, live out our lives. We experience the inside with an outside perspective. We hope to bring a ray of light into the lives of the people inside these facilities.
Co-presented by The Invisible Dog Art Center, the French Institute Alliance Française (FIAF) and Cristina Grajales Gallery
METAL DETECTORS AND PATHWAY, 2020
Various Materials
Moving into the jail, our hands were stamped with invisible ink. Keys and phones were forbidden. Everything we brought for the workshop had to have advance clearance. We passed slowly through a series of spaces like air locks, one door had to close before the next could open. Metal detectors flank passageways which have a dividing line down the center. Our escort and a guard took us along one side. Guarded inmates moved along the other. Inmates looked away as meeting visitors’ eyes is forbidden.
Jail protocol was a shock at the beginning. Every movement through the jail is controlled. But we learned the rules, and how to wait patiently, sometimes most of the day, just for two hours of actual engagement with inmates. We handed out pamphlets to the corrections officers when they asked what we were doing. We were always waiting—for clearance, for escorts, for an inmate we hoped would participate in our project, but had said no. We learned to respect their space while still being encouraging. We gave them multiple opportunities to join us. And we invited the officers to join us too. The ones with a good rapport with the inmates often did.
TIMELINE OF COLLABORATIONS
Steven and William began their work inside the NYC Department of Corrections in 2012, work that continues today. This timeline represents the collaborative artworks made with inmates throughout the years. It is the first time this work has been brought together into one exhibition.
2012
RIKERS: PURPLE
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Robert N. Davoren Complex
Archival board, fiber, tape
LWD 5 ½ x 5 ½ x 2 ½ inches
The rules on what we could bring to the jail were strict. We had to swap out any gang colors, get rid of metal pins, cut fabric trimmings short and get written approval for materials. We jumped on the bus to cross the bridge to Rikers Island Correctional Facility, where we would collaborate with 16 to 18 year-olds at RNDC, a jail for adolescent boys. The driver was late and the passengers irate, yelling “GO, GO!” eager to get there on time for visiting hours. After intense security protocols, we finally got to the boys. The space was dark, somber and sad. We sat around tables bolted to the ground, talking and making scrolls together. It was easy for them to succeed and see how their contribution could create a work of art.
We asked the boys about their future plans. One wanted to go to college. Another definitely didn’t. A third with a felony conviction thought he wouldn’t be allowed to. We gave them as much warmth and attention as we possibly could. Later, an art therapist from the jail wrote, “I keep meaning to email you to let you … “know that the boys in 4 Lower South really enjoyed their time with the artists. One … has asked me repeatedly when they will return and remarked on the natural way in which [Steven and William] interacted with them, and how they seemed so engaging and comfortable. This means so much to locked up kids who feel stigmatized almost all the time.”
2013
RIKERS: COLLEGE
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Robert N. Davoren Complex
Archival board, fiber, rubber bands
LWD 11 x 11 x 3 ½ inches
BANANA MUSTANG
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Rose M. Singer Center
Archival board, fiber, beads, metal
LWD 11 x 11 x 3 ½ inches
RIKERS: FREEDOM
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Rose M. Singer Center
Archival board, fiber, beads, metal
LWD 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ x 2 ⅝ inches
Corrections Officers called out “Man on Deck!” as we entered the Rikers Island jail that houses women, nicknamed “Rosies.” About 25 women joined us to make art. They loved scrolling. After half an hour, they had filled a box with scrolls and gathered around the table to title the piece, the energy in the room became electric. They started brainstorming aloud. The scrolls were the same colors as their uniforms, and that’s where they began, ideas coming faster and faster...”Green. Sentenced. Prison. Incarcerated. Freedom. Freedom!” One woman cried out, “Put your hands together on the work!” And these incarcerated women, of all different colors and backgrounds, joined hands on top of the scrolls, chanting “FREEDOM! FREEDOM! FREEDOM!” Then everyone burst into applause.
When we returned to work with them again, an older woman, maybe in her 80’s, said, “You came back,” and her eyes filled with tears. Later, at lunch, the program head Carmen told us that many of these women had never had a man in their lives who lived up to his word.
2014
RIKERS: HOPE AND FAITH
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Rose M. Singer Center
LWD 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ x 2 ⅝ inches
RIKERS: SHADES OF ROSIES
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Rose M. Singer Center
LWD 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ x 2 ⅝ inches
RIKERS: MAQUETTE
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Robert N. Davoren Complex
LWD 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ x 2 ⅝ inches
RIKERS: THINGAMAJIG
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Robert N. Davoren Complex
(All) Archival board, fiber, rubber bands
LWD 10 ¼ x 10 ¼ x 2 ⅝ inches
Once, doing a project at Rosies, we recognized a girl as soon as we walked in. We had worked with her on the outside—on our big public project at City Point in Downtown Brooklyn. She came from a local school where, we had been cautioned, many students ended up institutionalized or incarcerated. But we didn’t say anything to her. You just never know what has happened to these individuals recently, or what they are feeling, so we let them give us our cues. But towards the end, she walked right up and asked how the Brooklyn project was going. We gave her a huge high five and showed her the beautiful pamphlet we’d brought about that project. It included her photo. And she got permission to keep it.
2015-2016
INVINCIBLE
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s Rose M. Singer Center and the George Motchan Detention Center
Archival board, fiber, rubber bands, ink
LWD 41 x 61 x 3 ½ inches
For Invincible, we made scrolls with 185 inmates in two women’s housing units over the course of a year. When it was finished, we pushed for clearance to install a full-size photographic print in each unit. When we finally scored a meeting with the warden, he greeted us with a big smile. “I used to be the warden at RNDC,” he said. “I remember you guys.” We ran over to give him a big hug, and he gave his approval. That was the only time we got permission to install something permanent in the housing units.
We were so proud as we carried the two giant metal photo reproductions through the hallways of the jail. Inmates and officers gawked and told us it was beautiful. We couldn’t stop grinning as each reproduction went up. The inmates just gravitated towards it and put their hands all over it. The title came from a participant who wrote: “The name of my scroll is Invincible. That is the way I see my son. He is a person that doesn’t never stop going to his goals. [My scroll means] peace, stress free, doing something that will become a part of something bigger. [Steven and William] thanks so much for giving hope to each one [of us].”
2017
THE NEW NORMAL
Made in collaboration with inmates at the Manhattan Detention Complex (Transgender Housing Unit and Restart Housing Units 5N, 5S and 8W and Rikers Island’s Nurses at the CHS Medical Trailer
Archival board, fiber, rubber bands, glue, wood
LWD 39 ¾ x 59 ⅜ x 2 inches
We worked at the Manhattan Detention Complex on a year-long project in a housing unit strictly for LGBTQ+ inmates. They were more protected in this unit than in the general population. It has since been dissolved. We often worked with inmates multiple times; but one day, a new inmate joined in, and engaged right away. We could tell they felt welcome. When I asked them to share the title of their scroll, they said, “The name of my scroll is The New Normal. Everyone always told me I was abnormal. But now I am The New Normal.” Immediately William and I chimed in, “You are all The New Normal!”
In the LGBTQ+ unit, they pushed two tables together, and we sat making scrolls from the pile of colorful trimmings heaped in the middle. Tiffany, a black trans woman who shares William’s birthday, revealed that they had nine brothers. In their mid-teens, they resolved to tell their family who they knew they really are. But before they could, they realized that their father already knew. One night at dinner, he looked around the table at his kids and declared that he was proud to have all boys, and no girls. They knew there was no place for them in the family. The next day, they left home and moved onto the street.
2018
A PART OF MY LIFE
Made in collaboration with inmates at the Manhattan Detention Complex
LWD 9 ⅞ x 12 ⅜ x 2 ½ inches
ABSTRACT CHAOS
Made in collaboration with inmates at the Manhattan Detention Complex
(Both) Fiber, rubber bands, glue, wood
LWD 9 ⅞ x 12 ⅜ x 2 ½ inches
They were perched on a table bolted to the floor in a Manhattan jail. We walked in smiling and invited them over where we laid out a pile of colorful fabric strips. One kept asking, “Be honest with me, are you scared to be here?” We said no. “That’s what’s up,” he said, and gave me an exploding fist bump. They joined us around the table and opened up to us as we made art together. “No one will work with us. Everyone is afraid. They don’t give us anything. We’re all in here for murder.”
The inmate who “ran the house” wore about ten rosaries around his neck to prove it. Steven told him that William was a master bead worker, and he nodded toward another inmate and said that his friend was too. We never had permission to bring beads in with us because they could be manipulated to use as a weapon. Finding out that these inmates were allowed to make rosaries and wear the beadwork was incredible. It was such a cool connection to us and our work.
2019
NYC DOC MAQUETTE 1 - 5
Made in collaboration with inmates at the Manhattan Detention Complex
LWD 16 ⅛ x 16 ⅛ x 1 ⅝ inches
NYC DOC MAQUETTE 2 - 5
Made in collaboration with inmates at the Manhattan Detention Complex
(All) Fiber, rubber bands, pins, glue, wood
LWD 7 ⅝ x 15 ⅝ x 1 ⅝ inches
It was the first time we were allowed to work with adult male inmates at Rikers. For an hour, 15 guys sat around a table with us, grabbing trimmings to make scrolls, naming them, and telling us their stories. At the end of the session, the jail went on lock-down, so we stayed put, talking with them for another half hour. We asked one inmate about his hopes and dreams. He said he’d always wanted to own a service station. As a teenager, Steven’s first job was pumping gas. So he got all excited and said, “Let’s plan this out!” We talked about different steps the inmate might take over the next ten years in order to make that dream a reality. It was fun. At the end, he paused and said, “No one’s ever cared about me enough to have a conversation like this.”
After another session with the adult men, we were waiting between two doorways for our escort out of the jail. We heard a man down the hall yelling to us “Brothers! Brothers!” When he got our attention, he gave us a huge grin and called out, “I got my scroll! They tried to take it. But I said, ‘This is my scroll!’ And they let me keep it.” We were so happy.
2020
JAIL CELL
Made in collaboration with inmates at Rikers Island’s George R. Vierno Center, North Infirmary Command, Otis Bantum Correctional Center, Anna M. Kross Center and the Manhattan Detention Complex as well as over 500 people from our community on the outside
Various Materials
LWD: 100 x 100 ½ x 132 ½ inches
“What one word describes incarceration for you?”
The words lining this installation piece are responses to that question. Steven and William engaged with over 125 inmates in five jails and hundreds more from the outside community to build these word blocks. We encourage you to think about this prompt and to write your word onto the wall behind you.
This summer outside visitors were prohibited from entering the jail system, so we had to find a way to engage with inmates without being in direct contact. Usually in our workshops, each participant makes a colorful scroll to keep, and another as part of a collaborative piece. When we learned that inmates had access to colored pencils, we sent out packets that included a drawing of blank scrolls for inmates to color, so they could still create and keep their own work of art. We explained in the packet how we use art to tell stories and encouraged them to think of their own story that inspired the coloring and left space for them to write it out and for them to sign and date their work.
We also asked them to send back anonymous responses to the prompt: “What one word describes incarceration for you?” We added responses from the outside community too, bringing inside and outside together. Walk inside, and you’ll be surrounded by them.
SCROLLATHON PROMPT
Over 500 people, including over 125 inmates from five NYC jails, have provided one word to the question: What one word describes incarceration for you? It has prompted storytelling and reflection. We hope you will contribute your word here to be included. Please write your word on this wall.
INSTALLATION/ARTWORK MADE BY STEVEN AND WILLIAM
CROWN STOOLS WHITE, GOLD AND BLACK, 2020
Wood, metal, fiber
LWD 12 ½ x 12 ½ x 18 ¼ inches
Our first time at GMDC, one of the ten jails on Rikers Island, we worked with 19 to 21 year-olds. They seemed like kids to us. At their housing unit, the inmates placed the chairs around a table; but they stacked them up for one inmate, so he sat higher than the others. We learned that he was running the house—that he had the top rank in his unit. Because he wanted to participate in our project, the other inmates had his permission to join in. We found it fascinating how inmates used the chair as a way to demonstrate hierarchy and this inspired us to create a series of crown stools.
WATCHTOWER, 2020
Plywood structure upholstered in wool
LWD 135 ½ x 58 ½ x 119 inches
From the moment you arrive on Rikers Island you are confronted by the powerful corrections officers in their imposing surveillance spaces. You encounter them again as you approach the jail complex. You stand outside and sort of wave to them on the inside in an attempt to get their attention. Sometimes they wait to even acknowledge you. Every encounter is a moment for them to approve or deny your admittance. This happens again once you are inside, and then again and again and again. By the time you finally reach the housing unit there is a secured surveillance area where corrections officers keep watch over the lives of inmates and anyone else inside the jail. You are constantly being watched and we are always trying to engage the officers whose job it is to be the eyes and ears of these unpredictable spaces because they have the power to shut our project down or allow it take place.
ISOLATION, 2020
Various Materials
LWD: 110 x 81 ½ x 103 ½ inches
On entering the jail, we emptied our pockets into a locker. A sign beside it read ‘Load and Unload Weapons in Red Sandbox.’ It was not a joke.
One time when we arrived, there was a red light swiveling beyond the plexiglass barrier. The jail was on lock-down. There was no telling how long we would wait. About 45 minutes later, our contact arrived, and she took us through an unfamiliar area. We passed a kind of holding cell—a 6 by 6 foot cage with a young inmate inside. Our escort asked him what he had done. He was the reason the whole jail had gone into lock-down. We were on our way to his housing unit.
HOUSING UNIT, 2020
Cedar Structure with Outdoor Cushions
A housing unit is an area with a jail that houses inmates. It has a living area for inmates to sleep which can be individual cells for one or two inmates or a barrack style area where cots fill the room. There is a common area where inmates eat, watch TV, hang out, exercise, and participate in programming. This common area is where we do the Scrollathon. We created this seating area as a kind of common area. A place to congregate and engage during the run of the exhibition.
Once while working at the all-women’s jail Rosies on Rikers Island we were in the common area and one inmate told us that when they scrolled with us, they felt like a family. Then she gestured towards the living area. “But back there,” she said, “we’re enemies.” As we were leaving, one woman turned to William and said, “I’ll never forget you.”
IDENTITY 1-12, 2020
Archival paper, pencil, colored pencil, ink, paint, thread
(Each) LWD 13 ⅞ x 19 ⅞ x 1 ½ inches
We don’t know the identity of the inmates we work with and we aren’t allowed to ask about why they are there. What they choose to share with us about who they are is up to them. This is the first time we’ve used the figure in a series of drawings and we used the silhouette as a way to create anonymity. We defined 12 specific memories we wanted to represent, distilled them to a single word and then evolved that into a posture. These postures were then expressed as a silhouette in the center of each page and bordered with a catch stitch. The figures are “caught.”
ISOLATION 1-6, 2020
Colored pencil, paint, canvas, thread, metal chains and trinkets
(Each) LWD 49 ½ x 31 ½ x 1 ½ inches
Isolation can have a range of impacts and in the system it is often a result of infractions or used as a means of protection for a vulnerable inmate. This is our first time making paintings on canvas. We were isolating upstate this summer and incorporated the figure which we cut from canvas and bordered with a zig zag stitch. These are the same silhouettes used for some of the drawings in the exhibition and we were thrilled at the idea of taking something that represented a very specific memory and then using it in a new context. It opened the posture up to a new interpretation for us.
PORTAL 1-12, 2020
Archival paper, pencil, colored pencil, ink, paint, thread, metal trinkets
(Each) LWD 10 ⅞ x 13 ⅜ x 1 ½ inches
A portals is an imposing doorway or gate and in the system you are constantly confronted with them. The more you pass through the closer you get to the inmates. That final moment when the door to their housing unit is opened and we are allowed to step inside is often a very heavy and profound moment of encountering a group of incarcerated people. We see these abstract drawings as portals between emotional states.
SHACKLES 1-12, 2020
Archival paper, fiber, metal, pencil, colored pencil, ink
(Each) LWD 8 ⅜ x 6 ⅜ x 1 ½ inches
In an area we had never been through before, we passed a girl and three guards. She had a mask over her mouth, her hands and feet were chained because she had used them as weapons. These drawings are masked with tulle and incorporate chains strung with metal trinkets.
JAIL HOUSE MAQUETTE, 2019
LWD:15 ½ x 11 ⅞ x 12 inches
ISOLATION MAQUETTE, 2019
LWD 9 ¼ x 6 ⅛ x 8 inches
JAIL CELL MAQUETTE, 2019
LWD 8 ⅜ x 7 ⅜ x 9 ⅝ inches
JAIL BUBBLE, 2019
(All) Various Materials
LWD 9 ⅛ x 6 ⅛ x 9 ½ inches
The idea for this exhibition has been germinating for many years; but early in 2019 we secured this space at The Invisible Dog and began a formal planning process. That involved the creation of these maquettes that represent a jail cell, a housing unit, solitary confinement, a surveillance booth, a pathway and metal detectors. We loved the idea of including them in the exhibition so you can see how our ideas evolve over time. If you look inside the Jail House, 2019, you’ll see a chandelier like the one in the center of the exhibition space as well as little maquettes of the crown stools.
Installation images Simon Courchel/The Invisible Dog
Images of Artwork Steven and William Ladd