DRAW
We brought in heavy paper and drawing tools to our writers at Eastern Oregon Correctional Institution, Oregon State Penitentiary, and Coffee Creek Correctional Institution. The 5x7 inch stock had an irregular shape collaged on it — the first move. In turn, each person responded to the card’s face by making a mark (a drawing, a word) on the card and then, passing it to a neighbor. We moved through the group until we were satisfied that we had returned to the starting place. A mark making trust fall — if you will. The activity sparked conversation about crossing boundaries. Working in such a small space with watercolor brushes and fat tipped ink pens, pencils … lines intersect and overlap. In a place filled with rules and a highly attuned sense of personal space — we agreed to cross the lines. We talked about the mark we make and feeling precious about having the mark modified by another hand. How do we look at the new image in front of us and respond? What value does our mark hold? Useful questions as we consider revising our writing, or our lives.
Fernando Pelayo Brambila from EOCI submitted “A Memorable Night,” a personal essay about the drawing exercise. The group is just now beginning to know one another, given that Pendleton is a three-hour drive away. We have met with this group less frequently. For the drawing night, the humans moved, and the cards remained stationery. The result was a close line movement where the men were also aware of the physical space that they inhabited as they drew. Fernando felt self-doubt as he participated in the exercise: “… we contemplated our cooperative weaved ‘symbols’ into what looked like an interesting demonstration of togetherness.” He observes that the rejected distance themselves from the very thing they crave. The drawing exercise opened him to a desire for an unconditional love and the difficulty in offering it.
Philip Luna’s memoir “In Her Hands” was also influenced by the drawing. It unlocked memories from his childhood. Reading the piece, I feel the safety in sharing tasks. He passed his five-year-old’s scribbles into his grandmother’s capable hands and she transformed the abstract into something concrete for him. We read a trusting relationship that helped build a child’s confidence. The hands soon mix with sand or flour, or even the blood of a gutted fish. Each of these small moments are collaborative. Phillip is the editor of The Echo, the EOCI magazine. I can’t help but think about how closely editing mirrors those lessons of transformation. | TDS