I’m interested in beliefs. I’m interested in those beliefs that sit at the foundation of an individual’s character, where all corollary beliefs, perspectives, and in turn, personality traits spring from. I’m interested in lowest common denominators.
In my experience discerning my own beliefs, a necessary function of growth, I’ve come to find that the strongest ones do not disintegrate under difficult circumstances. They may waver, but they don’t fall apart. If they do, they’re not beliefs but catchy aphorisms that feel pleasant rolling off the tongue.
As such, I’ve come to hold fast to the notion that all human life possesses inherent value by virtue of its existence. I don’t see how life can be lived any other way. While human lives may make mistakes, even catastrophic ones at that, these mistakes do not nullify their base worth. Life is life, it always deserves a measure of respect. Because of this, I’m always excited to learn of artists who take their talents to prisons, where people whose crimes have left them stripped of their liberties are then able to coexist amongst a beauty that at least makes life livable.
Earlier this month, Mexican artists Said Dokins, Cix, and Spaik travelled to the CE.RE.SO. (Centre of Social Reinsertion) Maximum Security Penetentiary in Morelia, Michoacán in Mexico to adorn the drab landscape with three lively new murals. A press release issued by Dokins explained that the penitentiary’s previous landscape was “composed by solid inextricable walls, kilometres of bars and wire fences, and gray overwashed uniforms that seem to constrain those who wear them.”
The artists’ intervention served “to disrupt the space and the dynamics of its inhabitants for some days, cancelling the disciplinary routine.” With their efforts, the press release continues, “Strokes, colour, words, participation, evocation and imagination, became the key elements in the relationships of collaboration established by the artists with the People Deprived of Freedom (PDF) on the production of three great murals.”
Each artist created their own work for the establishment. Spaik painted “Puedes Volver a Volar” (You Can Fly Again), an energetic symphony of color in which three birds carouse amongst a flurry of musical notes. In February 2018, Global Street Art noted that Spaik’s work often “uses topics related to local traditions and makes mythical references of traditional stories.” Viewers can find magical elements scattered throughout “Puedes Volver a Volar,” both in the overarching scene depicted and the symbols throughout the birds’ wings. On the whole, the mural is jubilant and uplifting. It sings to the power of human potential.
The Mexico City-based Cix contributed “Estado Mental” (Mental State), another colorful mural with a strong sense of organization. In “Estado Mental,” the artist juxtaposes two seated, three-headed figures against each other, across a firm line drawn through the mural’s middle. The figure on the left sits up right in its chair, surrounded by constellations. The figure on the right strikes the same exact pose, though it’s inverted so the chair’s legs reach towards the sky. On this side, the figure sits amongst a lighter background, with a checkerboard floor. The mural insinuates a contemplation on law and order. In August 2019 Street Art Today also noted that like Spaik, Cix pulls from his heritage to incorporate “surrealism, mysticism and pre-hispanic culture, using bold textures and colors” into his work.
Dokins’s mural “Memoria Canera” (Memories from Jail) completed the trifecta. The press release from Dokins stated that this mural “started by establishing dialogues with the PDF who collaborated with him, gathering phrases, experiences, words used frequently in the prison’s daily life, but also poems, long writings, tales, [and] feelings.” Dokins often utilizes calligraphy throughout his body of work to tell an intimate story with words themselves. Regarding “Memoria Canera,” the press release explained, “This fabric of words, life fragments, memories and shared emotions, was the base on which he traced a geometric figure symbolizing the crossroads we face in life, an unexpected concatenation of experiences that only make sense within the context of surveillance and control.”
The words that Dokins gathered for this mural are painted in harmonious quadrants featuring the primary colors. Over top of these words, he superimposed a powerful symbol resembling a flower, with lines energetically emanating from it. Upon closer inspection, one finds that the flower is actually built of Dokins’s signature calligraphy, lending it further force. The artist elaborated that the mural “is a reflection about identity, memory and the lives lived in jail,” alongside the “Underground culture that emerges in there, from the language, that includes the slang used in the place, the nicknames of the people, until the deepest thoughts about confinement and freedom.”
Prisoners are a forgotten segment of the population, and it’s easy to justify why they should be. Those confined within this penitentiary’s walls have been convicted of violent acts that mar other lives. In punishment for their crimes, they are exiled to a life led behind bars. Dokins’s press release makes another interesting statement about the significance of prisons as “a place of exception, where social logics are interrupted, exacerbated, transformed; a punishment space that fulfills the double function of confining those who are inside, to isolation and punishment, and threatening those who are outside.” It’s tempting to believe that robbing prisoners from even the basest human enjoyment could prove a valuable deterrent to would-be offenders.
For better or for worse though, life is structurally centered around complexity. The circumstances that keep an individual from committing crimes versus not committing them are just as much forged by chance as they are by integrity. I think that everything about a person is forged by a team effort of chance (over which we have no control) and integrity (where we alone hold the agency). Because of this, it’s necessary to punish criminals to for making catastrophic choices. However, once they are behind bars, they are still people behind bars. They deserve a community, a livelihood, and a modicum of beauty. This joint effort by Spaik, Cix, and Dokins provides the latter in spades.
Said Dokins: website | instagram | facebook
Spaik: instagram | facebook
Cix: instagram
