Mel was released from the Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility in June 2024 after completing a two-year sentence. In this essay, she talks about art–and specifically a print-making class–that helped her express what she saw and felt during her incarceration.
When you are in prison, every day is like Groundhog Day.
Inmate count times, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are the same time every day. You're with the same people, with their same behaviors and drama.
Almost every day I stayed in my cell, trying to break the monotony and escape from my reality through drawing. I started making cards for women to send to their families, to show they were thinking about them. I would “sell” my cards to them for commissary credit because I didn't get much money from outside sources. It also kept my mind and hands busy.
It was a much better way of making money than one job I had as a POA: Prisoner Observation Aid. I got paid $3.34 a day to observe mentally unstable inmates and write down what they were doing every 15 minutes, notifying an officer if they were trying to harm themselves.
Some never left their cell at all—like animals at the zoo being watched. As a POA I saw suicide, self harm, violence, manipulation from other prisoners, and lack of empathy from the officers.
I could only do this job for about nine months because it was affecting my mental health. It was hard to sit there and not be able to help them in some way.
When I heard about the printmaking class available to inmates, I was excited and signed up right away. I knew it would take a while, because of the “kite process”: inmates request the course by putting a note in a mailbox, and then wait for a response by inter mail to learn if they were accepted.I waited for months. Then the class started and I figured I didn't make the cut, because I was considered a "short timer" due to only doing two years. But then someone dropped out of the class and I was able to join halfway through the semester.
I didn't know what to expect, but I was excited to have something to do that was different, and something to look forward to each week.
In the class we were taught how to do linework to create images. Visiting art students from the University of Michigan used carving tools to transfer the linework to linoleum, creating printing pieces that are covered in ink and transferred to paper. I started making basic images, like moons and the tree of life. I wasn't sure what to do. It took me a bit to learn the process of linework—it wasn’t like the drawing and painting I was used to—but the students showed me how. I made mistakes—like not writing my words backwards so that they’d print the right way—and I’d have to do it again. But that's how you learn—by mistakes.
Our instructor was a woman named Toby Millman, and she was great. She had me think on my own with gentle guidance, helping me visualize what was around me. This opened my eyes to the chaos in a different way. I became an observer with a purpose. Through printmaking, I tried to visually express some of the pain, struggles, and mental health tragedies these women suffered from, which weren’t really being addressed in a prison setting.
I created five printing pieces as a thematic group. This work affected all of my senses to the core, so I incorporated the experience into statements about mental health treatment in prison—or the lack thereof. My works were about what I saw, what I heard, what was felt, what I smelt, and what I tasted.
Can You See Me?
Can You Taste Me?
Can You Feel Me?
Can You Smell Me?
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The sum of them was negative experiences, so I chose to do all my prints using black ink, representing a world that lacked the vibrancy of color.
“Can You See Me?” was about a woman that committed suicide after the guards closed the flap on her door so they didn't have to deal with her.
“Can You Hear Me?” is about a woman that was harming herself, but the guards didn't care because she was combative and called them names.
“Can You Feel Me?” was about a woman that was in a mental health room— we called them “bam bam rooms"—where she was able to enjoy some sun coming through the window, which was nice, because she had nothing but a blanket.
"Can You Smell Me?" was about an inmate that never came out of her cell, and would play with her urine and feces and smear it on the walls and door.
And lastly, “Can You Taste Me?” was about the food trays that were given to us, which were consistently unappetizing.
With printmaking, I learned more than a wonderful art skill that will last me a lifetime. I learned to observe my surroundings, and through art, give others insights about mental illness in prison.
For me, it was one of the best experiences of my life.
About the Author:
My name is Melissa Flores. With art you can create anything. I have been inspired to convey what is around me. It hasn't always been a beautiful landscape. Sometimes you just have to show how things really are to bring awareness. I'm just glad I had the opportunity to be guided in the right direction to express it.
Article is made possible by the Linkage Community Journalism Initiative.
