For this edition of 5Q’s, we discuss the exhibition “Far Beyond the Walls” with curator Frances Melhop. “Far Beyond the Walls” is currently on view in Carson City at the decommissioned Nevada State Maximum Security Prison which is maintained by a preservation society. Visual art and poetry are on view in various historic areas of the prison including the cell blocks, infirmary, and culinary spaces. In talking with Frances, we wanted to know more about the curatorial process leading up to such a large exhibition project, and the discussions or feelings that have emerged since its opening. For more info about tours, dates, all the artists on view, and more, head to melhopgallery.com. Interview below.
What inspired “Far Beyond the Walls” and how long has it been in the making for you?
I have been working on the research for this exhibition for over 2 years now, although I came across the space around 4 years ago. A friend and historian, (Lisa Jayne), asked me if I would photograph inside the abandoned prison in 2020, and I kept it in mind as an incredibly powerful place to stage an exhibition, but it couldn’t be just any exhibition, it had to be relevant, humane and thought-provoking.
Last year I took my brick-and-mortar gallery into a nomadic phase and one of the artists that I represent, Giampiero Assumma, was due for a solo exhibition – his work documents people on the fringes of society. One of the bodies of work that was 10 years in the making is his series “Other World” – photographs of people and spaces in the criminal psychiatric prisons in Naples, Italy. The Nevada State Prison Preservation Society and I formed a collaboration to make this exhibition within the cell blocks, maximum security, infirmary, and culinary spaces possible.
How did you select the artists for the exhibition, and more specifically Glynn Cartledge and Ashley Brock who each have HP Billboards at the moment? Is there a common thread between the artists?
As the research continued I found more and more artists whose work explores incarceration, all from very different angles and perspectives. I asked the NSPPS if I could utilize more and more spaces and they were super positive about the ideas.
I had known about Glynn’s work for some time, and while working with Jennifer Garza-Cuen for her solo exhibition within the prison walls, I realized that Glynn absolutely had to be part of this series of solo exhibitions. As a former Criminal Defense Lawyer working with people on death row, in this very prison, it was manifestly impossible for her not to be a part of it! As the research continued I found and approached more and more artists whose work spoke of confined living spaces and the way your environment can potentially shape your life outcome.
I came across Ashley’s work which explores growing up in single-wide and double-wide trailers in Tonopah. Her BFA sculpture works are very poignant abstract portraits and refer to family and the wallpaper patterning found in single-wide trailers. The diorama “Doll Trailer 3” that she created of a pink single-wide with an enormously tall set of steps leading to the door, spoke to me of escape, home, respite, and the magic of tree houses along with potentially other more sinister elements.
Recently added to the exhibition are some beautiful ceramic sculptures “Corner Colonies” by Roman de Salvo. His works meditate on the way swallows make their mud nests under eaves and in very difficult-to-access spaces – how they cluster and form colonies and the parallels that might also affect humans living in close proximity.
As a curator, I am all about continuing to revise and grow exhibitions as they are in progress, more work, more ideas, and more artists have been added over the course of the 4 months. I am not so interested in stasis or status quo.
Visiting the site and exhibition as an attendee feels very heavy. How do you navigate that weight while working at this site for extended periods of time. Has this time formed your opinion on the idea of preserving decommissioned prisons as historical sites?
Lately, I have been finding it more and more difficult to go into the prison…it is very dark and heavy. I film and photograph in there when I am not showing tours through, and the weight of the atmosphere is grueling. But it must have been so much worse when everyone was in there trying to survive on continuous red alert for violence etc. This would also be affecting the guards and staff of the prison as well… the conditions without air con are brutal – the temperatures got up to 115 degrees while we were installing. But we had the option of leaving the site and sitting in our cars with air con blasting to cool down.
I think preserving the prison is actually important…it is part of Nevada’s history, in order to even become a state Nevada had to have a governor and a prison. This was the site and germination of the state itself. The location is also of great archaeological importance as it is situated on a hot spring with giant sloth footprints and saber-tooth tiger teeth in the quarry where the prison was built.
While I understand that some people might question saving this heavy and tragic prison site, from the responses that we have had, visitor reactions, and thoughts shared, it has been entirely worth it. A whole world of discussion is happening.
Once incarcerated, people vanish. There are around 2 million people incarcerated in the USA. They are an invisible nation. We don’t much think about them as we don’t see them, we don’t experience the confinement and we don’t live in those conditions. This exhibition has been a way to give more insights to people and open conversations that need to be had, regarding the incredible difficulties faced by inmates while in, and after they are out as well. I hope that methods of incarceration may be rethought, and that rehabilitation becomes more prevalent so that the 80% of people who return from prison, arrive outside with support systems in place and alternative ways to survive and thrive within our communities instead of returning to criminal activity to get by.
Do you feel the exhibition is sparking important conversations about mass incarceration, mass liberation, and efforts to reduce recidivism? Is that a goal?
Yes… the whole exhibition is trying to open conversations, build some awareness, and provide a visceral physical experience of these enclosed spaces while showing how difficult maintaining balance, equilibrium, and identity are as a human being living in a cage. My main intention is to show the power of art and its healing qualities, but also how an art practice or creative practice is a way of focusing the mind and building positive self worth and allowing for change and transformation. Whatever can help the incarcerated save their minds while they are housed in prison…be it gardening, developing a deep knowledge of law, or finding an art practice it is so important that there is something to hold on to over the prison time. While I was interviewing former prisoners, I was told many times that poetry saved their lives… and more specifically Shaun Griffin and poetry saved their lives! Shaun is the Poet Laureate of Nevada and has been going into correction facilities for 30 years teaching poetry, his assistance in this project has been invaluable.
Finding other communication forms, these poet artists have found a sort of peace, and the ability to move forward with their lives especially now some of them are released. Showing vulnerability in prison is usually an incredibly dangerous move, so the fact that Shaun provides a safe space and a way for them to process trauma, understand their own life paths, grow, and create, building wonderfully heartfelt poems is outstanding dedication and bravery.
5. Which poem resonates with you the most in the exhibition, and can we share it here?
I have cried reading most of the poems, especially as I spent so much time with them, laser cutting the words so they appear in light through old recycled cardboard boxes. Each one has resonated with me at a different time. But I think one that hits most people immediately is “Touch” by Beau Brown. (Reproduced with permission here)
TOUCH
Fifteen years in prison
I shocked myself by saying four words
I’d never said here before—
“Can I touch it?”
Prison has a sick way
Of making a sexual pun
Out of the words we say.
This day, however,
My question was no pun,
But a sincere request to pet her dog.
Trembling with excitement and delight,
I hear her say, “Of course.”
I’ve never cried so much
Without shedding a single tear.Beau Brown
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