I call this painting an omen to the new reality that America is beginning to live up to. It is a multicultural, diverse society. This comes with a warning to all racists, ‘you will be welcomed into this new society or you can collide with it but will not stop it.' And a message to the new American Patriots: ‘It is your inherent duty to protect humanity from its flawed racial past as the new Atlantis.’ “
—Lamavis Comundoiwilla
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This piece tells the story of Kawashima Yoshiko, born in China, raised in Japan where she became a spy for the Japanese army during the Second-Sino Japanese War. Her unique story is as an eye-catching androgynous, cross dressing Femme Fatale. From girlhood she toggled between male and female identities.
This is a “shortened print” edition, meant to be a 20-copy 1st edition produced inside San Quentin State Prison. Due to events beyond my control, the linoleum block was sent home with only a few prints made. This edition is now extremely limited, as all future prints of this image will exist as new editions outside these prison walls.
Inspiration for this print came from a face in a stack of papers and magazine clippings somebody had. It was only a loose line drawing of a face fit for a coloring book, but it captivated me; I saw a story in it. I changed pretty much everything but the profile of the face and added everything else.
This is a vision of a post-apocalyptic world where survivors must be always looking forward, never going backward. A world where people remember what really matters most. Some have said that it reminded them of Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sowers novels (which I had to read AFTER several comments). I think it fits well.
Ancestor’s Reflection is the motivation of the Orisa Esu (pronounced A’ Shoe). In the Yoruba Diaspora, he is the “owner of the crossroads.” When looking at this artwork, I want to share a pataki (story) of Esu:
“There were two close friends talking when ESU walked rudely between them. One friend said: ‘Did you see that rude red being?’ The other friend stated: ‘No, you’re wrong, my friend. It was a rude brown-black being!’ In their arguing, Esu stepped to them. They looked at Esu and began to laugh at themselves. For you see they were both right.”
If I were asked what this art means to me. I would say understanding, reflection, clarity, choice, and humor/laughter at ourselves.”
We all have experienced darkness and feelings of isolation, whether short or indeterminably long, that it overwhelm us. I have been there. However, there always exists a manner to move beyond that darkness to bask once again in the light of freedom, love, and hope.
Monochrome work can imbue an image with a particular climatic intensity to draw one’s attention and imagination in. The light at the top of this stone stairwell beckons us to rise up.
This painting was used as cover art for NYU School of Law’s Collaborative Report with Scrutinize in March, 2024.
This piece is indicative of the choices we are sometimes faced with; how what we decide impacts others around us. And how, in most cases, there are ample motivations for better choices. Consider a person who sells illegal drugs on the street. Everyday encounters with both living and inanimate objects can serve as guideposts. Take for instance, the stop sign in this composition — the damage of the sign makes it prevalent. It may go unnoticed by many, but to the person who's thinking he/she should "stop" dealing drugs it could be a source of confirmation. Next thing you know, your eye finds the word "STOP" somewhere else in the piece. What in your own life might you need to STOP? Personally, I did not take heed to these guideposts. So I recognize them now from a position of consequence.
It would be a huge mistake to assume that only bad or illegal things happen at the community liquor store. You can also find a sense of community there too. Honestly, I believe that these urban "watering holes" do a great deal of harm to the community. But when Sister Johnson's family needs help making rent, it's never the big box stores who come to the aid. These are the spaces that allow out of towners to sleep overnight in motorhomes and eighteen wheelers. I left the Walmart parking lot bare because I wanted to convey a sense of it being void of community.
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Mass incarceration, fueled by capitalism's need for surplus labor, has produced the world's largest harvest of human beings. Forced into the bondage of neo-slavery, I am not just a descendant of a slave. I am also part of a marginalized, vulnerable group of human beings who are slaves—prisoners.
This artwork was commissioned for the Urban Arts Festival
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I’m a descendent from a culture of cruel capitalistic slavery—America carved my ancestors from the continent of Africa. The Motherland cried tears as her sons and daughters fell to imperialism and over the side of slave ships during the Atlantic slave trade. Despite political doublespeak and racist rhetoric written in the US Constitution, slavery still persists for my people—the poor, the darker, the prisoner, the slave.
This artwork was commissioned for the Urban Arts Festival
“EE’ GU’ NJO’ BI’ (pronounced E’ Goon’ Jo’ B’) Is my attempt to build a community dialogue surrounding the ancestors. When we have the knowledge of self through those who came before us, we are more inclined to become grounded. When grounded life has meaning from the past to the present and into the future.
My artwork combines universal needs and motivations such as security, connection to matter, to community and making sense of self. As you look at and ponder this piece, I want you to know that EE’ GU’ NJO’ BI’ means ‘the Ancestors birth us all’.”
“Endangered Wood Stork” is a painting I did to bring attention to the decline of the species and to bring awareness to the precious birds we are losing due to climate change. I also thought these birds are really ugly looking, like buzzards, yet kind of beautiful at the same time. I love that the texture on their heads and legs looks like wood!
Jeffrey won the Sheridan Prize for Art 2022, winner overall, Incarcerated Artists category, for this painting.
I was inspired by the forced labor in prisons that still occurs during this day and age. This image depicts what happened to Blacks during slavery is still going on till this day—especially in progressive California.
This artwork was commissioned for the End Involuntary Servitude Digital Media Campaign
When I think about the Plessy vs Ferguson case, which ushered in "separate but equal," it pains me and causes me to question: what must an entire people have experienced in order for adults, as well as the youth, to see themselves as inferior to someone else? This piece is a view into my own answers as a child to the questions written on the chalkboard. At the time what I understood of white people was that things were better for them. And my answers were reflective of my desire for better. But instead of getting better treatment, I got labeled as someone suffering from an identity crisis.
This is a painting I did to commemorate family trips when we would drive our car to California to visit my grandma. I believe this is primarily why I love Southwest art so much. I grew up in Minnesota and lived there all of my childhood years, so seeing the different landscapes excited and inspired me to draw and paint these totally different scenes. Painting allows me to go outside these prison walls and rediscover part of these same experiences, even while incarcerated.
There is very little difference between the 1800s and present times. Black people are still under the gun by the overseers.
This artwork was commissioned for the End Involuntary Servitude Digital Media Campaign
This painting depicts a dark rainy morning at a prison work change area. The focus is on the young man at the front of a line of workers standing in the rain waiting to be allowed to go inside to work. Old, young, various ethnic groups, and all miserable while they eagerly wait to go to work for less than .50 an hour.
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The Monkey King is the very intriguing character of the famous Asian epic "Journey to the West." Monkey was kicked out of the heavenly realms because he was deemed to be incorrigible, undisciplined, and reckless. Yet he had a big heart underneath all his foolish behavior. Monkey was accompanied on his adventures by characters that represented his unruly aspects as well as his higher nature. I wanted to depict the Monkey King as he became after his adventures...wiser, awake, redeemable, yet still possessing his carefree spirit.
This 33 page zine showcases the poetry created for the exhibition.
Designed by Miye Sugino
This painting portrays the numerous times walking by the Inmate Day Labor (IDL worker) and yard crew, witnessing friends working tirelessly, feeling the pain in their bodies, and seeing women striving hard to accumulate pennies. The juxtaposition was deliberate, aiming for the viewer to focus on the face, to observe the wrinkles and signs of aging on the overworked body.
The intention was to separate her from the pain unfolding behind, even positioning her face forward as if to shield herself from witnessing her friends' anguish.
This artwork was commissioned for the End Involuntary Servitude Digital Media Campaign
In 2017 Hurricane Maria came down upon the island of Puerto Rico. In the wake of this historic storm, the island paradise of my cultural heritage, my people, and home to my family, suffered utter devastation. From a prison cell I bore witness and cried. The Trump administration dismissed the severity of the destruction, intentionally disregarded the actual death toll of more than 3,000 Puerto Ricans, then tossed paper towels as if it were manna from heaven. Rich Americans then came, bought up land, built gated communities, and laughed.
I painted the sky in bold red, white, and blue strokes to represent the volcanic acclaim of Americanism to the world. The “skullishness” of Lady Liberty’s face uncovers how the American government and corporations exploit the island and its people. American interests want Puerto Rico, but not Puerto Ricans. Tito Kayak, and others, still stand strong against these injustices. Letting the world know, “I AM(E)RICAN!”
I've been that porter, the one cleaning correctional officers' toilets and stalls because it was my job. However, witnessing staff throw trash and dirty up all that I just cleaned—it was a cycle that began to break my spirit. This painting reflects the unbelief and pain felt when a pay slot statement is received by residents in California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. That statement says hard work means nothing. It says you ain't s%*t!
This artwork was commissioned for the Urban Arts Festival
This is a limited edition linoleum block print inspired by a poem published in the book Al-Mutanabbi Street Starts Here. The title of the piece is pulled from the poem by Thomas Christensen. When I read that line, all I could think of was the fact that, during the Iraq War, neither American nor Al-Qaeda forces cared about the culture of the people whose land they were fighting on. Both sides wanted to impose their own ways and beliefs on the people and were destroying the Iraqi peoples’ history and culture.
In this piece both warring parties are on opposite sides of the street, taking a mirrored stance of arms raised against the people. In the middle you have a storefront with a local man and woman fighting against both sides with ink pens and books—their only means of defending and preserving their culture.
