In his introduction to ‘Soledad Brother’, the book of prison letters by murdered Black Panther George Jackson, Jean Genet writes: ‘If we accept this idea, that the revolutionary enterprise of a man or a people originates in their poetic genius…we must reject nothing of what makes poetic exaltation possible.’
It’s unlikely that the four cons-turned-Caravaggios at the heart of Simon Mawdsley’s comedy drama would ever be charged with ‘genius’. But just how they came to their belated artistic expression, and whether life outside would’ve given them the opportunity for such positive self-validation, is one of many lines of philosophical enquiry in this sensitive and compelling play.
Their reasons for signing up to prison art classes are as varied as they are. Raspy-voiced Webby (Steve Osborne pictured with Ian Attfield) wants to use art to uncover the origins of his violent behaviour; while Mancunian wideboy (Mark Rose) Bailey’s aims aren’t quite so lofty: ‘Fuck art, I’m here for t’snatch.’ But when the female art teacher doesn’t turn up, they’re forced on a journey of discovery and conflict with the authorities and themselves. The play is exceptionally well cast, while Mawdsley (who also directs) deftly paints a picture of life both inside and out of these four walls. What could easily have been a sanctimonious or caricatured depiction of prison life is instead an intelligent exploration of redemption, (in)justice and the power of art. In painting their mural, these men let the world know they exist. The moment the authorities force them to destroy it is as eloquent a depiction of the failings of punitive justice as any.
