“Art kept us sane”: An interview with memoir author Logan Crannell

About the writer, Logan Crannell: I’m a visual artist from Provo, UT who opted to move into my truck with my dog Jack, after I got divorced.  We travelled together and ended up in Boise, ID to visit a friend. Things spiraled out of control, and I got imprisoned for 4 months, facing a ten year sentence.  I got released on Oct. 5th, 2016.
From Wendy, PAC Administrator: Logan Crannell wrote to PAC seeking some support in promoting his memoir, Hands Down – a story of incarceration, which hits Amazon today. I asked him if he’d like to contribute a blog post about it, and he eagerly agreed, requesting that I provide him with a few questions to get his thoughts flowing. I did so, and the following is what he offered in return. I’m sure you’ll be as moved by his words as I am, and I ask that you share this interview, and Logan’s book, with anyone who might find them meaningful — WJ

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Hands Down Cover with 0.125 bleeds-1

WJ: How did the process/act of writing help you to cope with being incarcerated?

LC:  Writing grounded me and kept my mind from circling in on itself.  Being locked in a concrete cell for twenty-one hours a day, you get consumed by repetitive and irrational thoughts.  It’s important to get them out of your system, otherwise they eat you alive.

Excerpt:

I rested there, despondent.  Zach, walking laps along the yellow line, stopped and approached.  He took a seat and put his elbows on the table.

“You’re not overthinking, are you?” he asked, leaning in

“Yes, I am.  I can’t help it.”

“Listen, bro,” he said, “You can’t think about the past and the future in here because they’re not ours.  They don’t belong to us, anymore.  All we get is today.  You have to focus on the things you can control.  It’s the little things that save you.”

It was wisdom, what he told me.

WJ:   You mentioned that you have a background in filmmaking.  What similarities and differences did you discover between the way you told a story in writing versus in film?

LC:  Yes, I grew up in a family of professional filmmakers and photographers, so I naturally told stories that way, but I was never comfortable with words.  They felt foreign to me; my interest lay with capturing images and feelings visually. When it came to dialogue, I’d bring in writers to deal with it. I didn’t care to be involved.

Then, in jail, in court, listening to my life and reputation get dismantled, I realized that words would ultimately set me free; they were my only tool of defense.  They became invaluable to me. No one seemed interested in my version of events, or claims of innocence, so documenting my words was a form of retaliation. Then, it turned  into something far more personal, as I examined my life and choices leading up to my arrest, which comprises the first section of the book.

WJ:  How did your surroundings influence your voice? Your perspective?

LC:  It got raw.  I came face-to-face with my fears, insecurities and failures; and I absolutely could not progress until I challenged them directly.  I couldn’t hide behind the distractions of the outside world. I felt bare, with nothing left to lose by writing my honest observations.  

As I got closer with my cellmates, my own story took a backseat, and I focused on their lives and outlooks.  The book transformed into our story.  Not just mine.  

Excerpt:

“How many mattresses are out there?”

“One.”

It was our nightly ritual; the counting of the mats.  At 10:30 pm, the deputies placed mattresses on the table by the control desk, the number of which signaled to us how many new inmates were on their way to cell block.  On our Walk, we had the only cell with a vacancy. The lights went out. I waited for my eyes to adjust, then continued reading The Screwtape Letters, by C.S Lewis; a rare find from the jail library.

“Did anybody come in?” Zach asked

“Not yet,” Zeek replied

“Well, I’m going to bed.  God bless, you guys!” Zach said, pulling down his headband

I’d fallen asleep when Rick Kellner made his entrance, and he came in with a bang.  Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I’d like Rick – he bragged of his charges with such enthusiasm, though I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking that underneath his thunder, there might be a man that grew up too damn fast.

  
WJ:  How has your experience within the criminal justice system changed the way you perceive art and/or the creative process?

LC:  Art has a vital role in lockdown.  It’s not disposable. I noticed inmate reactions to watching television; so many societal issues were irrelevant to them, and advertising commercials had no effect.  We couldn’t have any of those things, so the broadcast registered as noise to us. I was relieved – I’d finally found a place where marketing didn’t work. I thought to myself, ‘These people are picking up on completely different signals.  That’s awesome.’

It’s funny, because I got housed with inmates who lamented over how much better the conditions were in prison, as opposed to county, because they had access to art supplies.  My cellmate Rick did incredible drawings, but blank, white sheets of paper were a scarce commodity. We had to be resourceful and work with our limitations. It didn’t stop us.  I kept a 2-inch pen, wrapped in paper and adhesive labels to make it less pliable, safely in my sock since the jail considered it contraband.

Excerpt:

Rick produced a work of art, while free, at a stable point in his life, on a canvas measuring roughly four-foot-by-six.  He did the drawing in pencil; the image of an Elk, beside a river, on a cold morning.

He lost track of how long he spent perfecting it; each blade of grass, drop of moisture and dew, the hair of the Elk’s coat, its breath, all of it in vivid detail.  He spoke of its majesty, regarding it as his finest achievement, creatively. I believe Rick thought of that drawing often, in the darkest moments, pulling strength from it, when he felt at a loss.  I think it helped him see the goodness of his capabilities.

WJ:  What inspired you to keep writing? Were there times you lost the motivation? If so, how did you find it again?

LC:  I don’t recall losing motivation.  On the contrary; my cellmates would have to pry me off my journal, bring me down to earth, and encourage me to exercise and joke around.  I formed tight bonds with my cellies. We fueled one another with ideas and inspiring stories. Art kept us sane. We balanced it with spiritual practices and kept each other laughing.  

Excerpt:

Zach didn’t waiver from his routine, and his daily yoga session piqued Rick’s interest.  By that point, I joined Zach a few times a week, and it improved my flexibility. The floor got cramped with three of us, so I let Rick take a lesson.  Zach gradually taught him the steps and proper breathing techniques.

Rick’s body trembled, as he labored to maintain a stance.

“Zach, I can’t hold it.  I’m losing balance,” Rick pleaded

“You gotta breath deep with the motion, bro.  You can do it.”

Rick’s feet slid on the smooth concrete, “This is way harder than I thought.”

“Yoga ain’t no punk, Rick.”

WJ:  What gave you hope? Who/what inspired you?

LC:  Seeing my dog Jack, again.  He means the world to me. On the day of my arrest, I got far more concerned for his well-being than my own.  When the cops allowed me ‘my one phone call’ it wasn’t to a lawyer. I wanted to verify that Jack was safe and cared for.  My friends and family came through in a big way.

WJ:  What advice would you give to other creative thinkers who are locked up? Or to artists and writers who teach in prisons/jails?

LC:  Keep it unfiltered.  Don’t get influenced by history.  The art you do doesn’t have to be monumental.  That’s not the point. Your goal shouldn’t be to impress others.  Real art isn’t about your ego; it’s the release of ego that makes it sincere.  If it doesn’t heal you, don’t expect it to help others.  

While finishing the final draft of my book, page by page, I’d follow one instruction:  Did I keep it real and from the heart? Then, I’d ask two questions: What am I bringing awareness to?  And, am I ready to put this into the world?

To be a teacher in that environment, well, I think you have to create a circle of trust and safety, or the results won’t happen.  Everyone involved has to be comfortable and meet at eye level before they open up. My cell mates were hesitant when they saw me keeping a journal, but once they trusted my intentions, they wanted to be involved and contribute to it.  I’d quote em all day long.

Excerpt:

July 20th – Through the windshield of the transport bus, I witnessed sidewalks busy with people, wandering, arms full of shopping bags, wanting things. I saw advertisements for phone plans, menu options at fast food restaurants, and bands wearing the latest fashion.  I wasn’t missing anything; Cell 846 was my comfort zone; I’d power through the day, and go to my bunk and rest.

My gaze shifted from the windshield to a black man seated in front of me, in the maximum security section; an iron gate divided us.  He reminded me of Tupac Shakur – maybe it was the nose ring.  How did he get to keep his nose ring?  How strange, that you can sit next to a person on a bus, and say nothing to them – and a month later, that person changes your life forever.

WJ:  What gave you the confidence to publish your story? What impact do you hope it will have?

Well, I felt a sense of obligation to publish since it wasn’t simply my story.  I promised those men I’d see it through.  

I have a dear friend, on the outside, that read the book.  Unfortunately, his long term relationship with his girlfriend had hit a rough patch, and they decided to take a break.  She moved out of state. Unbeknownst to me, he would read the book to her over the phone at night, and it helped them to rediscover and be grateful for what they had built.  That touched me deeply. It made my struggles worthwhile. That’s what I want for the book; to have the reader find a negative in their life and convert it into something positive.  That’s the victory.

WJ:  What are your goals for the future? How has the transition coming home been for you? Have you continued to write? If so, has it served a purpose during the transition?

LC:  Actually, I’m studying for my degree in floral design.  I’d practiced Ikebana, Japanese flower arrangement, throughout my adult life.  It brought me peace. I committed to making it my new career when I got out, so I’m really concentrated on that now.  The transition was rough. By the time they kicked me to the streets I’d lost my home, my car, my camera and computer equipment, both of my jobs, etc.  On top of that I now had a criminal record to contend with. At least I had my dog, and solid friends. I think that’s ultimately what the book is about; true friendship.  

Logan and Jack
Logan and Jack

If you’d like to connect with Logan (or Jack), email films.by.logan@gmail.com.

Hands Down: A Story of Incarceration, by Logan Crannell

The Artists Within: Conor Broderick on Friend and Fellow Artist, Jonathan Cashion

A note from the contributor, Conor Broderick, who encouraged Jon Cashion to share his work with PAC:  I feel art is very important for starting conversations about serious ideas. Expressing oneself can be good for the artist, but that artist’s work might help change someone’s life in a way that she or he might never know about. Learning about oneself is something that comes through the creative process, I have found, and so far there has been a lot of bright, colorful spontaneous expression in my work which speaks of who I am.

Abstract paintings, let alone abstract painters, are rare within the prison artist community where Jon resides. Jon began painting in March of 2016 with his long-time partner, Leslie. The two have been pushing one another and collaborating on paintings. The work that Jon and Leslie create together is a meeting of complementary styles. Leslie’s work, (which we hope to see independently soon) is surreal and combines well with Jon’s “craziness.” As with the Old Masters, two or more painters would work together on a project. Sometimes you cannot know who did what. In the end, all that matters is the effect the pieces have on the viewer.

 

The Journey
“The Journey” by Jon Cashion

With no formal art training, Jon obtains his knowledge through the various books available to him, as well as from learning from his peers. Within the prison environment, there is a lack of artistic direction to guide a developing artist. But this is where Jon sets himself apart. Jon’s work—mainly non-objective, impressionist/expressionist abstracts – is his voice. “…I have found a passion, a deep feeling of having to create something, that I can’t seem to get rid of,” he explains.

See Within
“Seeing Within” by Jon Cashion

Leslie goes into detail. “He started with these ravaged splatter paintings that resemble the result of a bunny encountering a truck in the night.” This describes the explosive energy Jon puts into his work.

Java Nightcap kangaroo
“Java Nightcap ‘Kangaroo'” by Jon Cashion

Jon is fascinated with bold hues and possesses a great eye for creating drama. He also creates on surfaces beyond the canvas, allowing him to paint more frequently. Jon makes his own canvas cut from old sheets.  He then paints the surfaces with his home-brewed gesso. For pastel work, he has developed a textured substrate painted over cardboard, using an acrylic blend containing concrete dust. Jon is currently working on a limited palette series that features homemade oil paints. No brush? No problem!  Random items become the brush – forks, toothbrushes, homemade atomizers, etc.

Yesternight's Adventure
“Yesternight’s Adventure” by Jon Cashion

Recently, Jon began to develop his figure painting skills.  He looks forward to combining this new subject matter with his familiar abstract efforts.  Jon plans to pursue finding his visual voice while future goals are to keep creating painting from life and to explore larger canvas formats.

Ice Cream at Tiffany's
“Ice Cream at Tiffany’s” by Jon Cashion

Corrections . . . Because being in prison can be hazardous to your health.

Corrections Cover Art
by Ronald McKeithen
About the contributor: Connie Kohler is a semi-retired professor emerita at the University of Alabama at Birmingham School of Public Health.  She is the producer of several radio dramas highlighting health issues. She has been working with inmates since 2013. 

Johnny Gunn, aka Hardcore, played football in high school and for a while in community college.  His large, athletic frame was once intimidating, giving him a place high in the prison pecking order.  But, now in his 50’s, though Hardcore still does bench presses, much of his muscle has turned to flab, a condition he doesn’t seem to acknowledge as he continues his steady diet of honey buns and other delights from the commissary.  Now he has diabetes and must change his eating behavior.  After injuring a big toe, Hardcore is at risk of losing it or more.  But he’s more focused on being an advisor and friend and keeping his status as big man on the block.

Ron is a younger inmate who sees that Hardcore’s days as king of the block are numbered and challenges Hardcore for the position.  When a new inmate named Jimmy H arrives he asks who is the meanest guy who nobody will mess with.  While Hardcore tries to claim that distinction, other guys in the block tell Jimmy H it’s Ron. Ron is the toughest.  But Ron has issues, too.  Back home his mom and siblings aren’t doing so well – which causes Ron much stress.  He’s had a couple of passing out spells that might mean high blood pressure. But he’s not one to go whining to some pathetic prison doctor.

Meanwhile, in an attempt to emulate Ron, Jimmy H seeks out the local tattoo maker, a guy called Skillet.  He gets a homemade tattoo from Skillet who uses ashes and soap for ink and a makeshift tattoo gun.  When Jimmy H starts feeling sick, he learns that his tattoo has led to Hepatitis C.  Now it’s Jimmy’s turn to use a homemade instrument as he goes after Skillet with a shiv.

Unfortunately, when Charles McCracken, one of the older lifers, tries to stop Jimmy H, he gets the sharp end of the shiv in his arm.  Charles has been diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s disease and has spells of confusion.  He tells Johnny Gunn (Hardcore) that he is scared about what will happen to him as he looses control of his wits and body.  When he wanders uninvited into another inmate’s cell and comes very close to getting beaten, he’s put into a cell in the infirmary for his own protection.  But Hardcore and others worry that Charles will only get worse in solitary.

These are some of the inmates in the fictional prison called United Correctional Facility.  They were created by a group of prisoners in an Alabama maximum security prison as the cast of characters for “Corrections”.   “Corrections” is the title of a serial drama (in audio format) that prisoners write and perform.  The first season was aired by a local radio station and the second season script is near completion.  The tagline for Corrections is,  “Because being incarcerated is hazardous to your health!”

I facilitate weekly meetings of this group of writers and performers.  Because my background is in public health, the drama revolves around health issues common in prison. The writing follows what has been called the “entertainment education” (EE) methodology.  Serial drama is a particularly good EE platform because it allows the story to model typical healthy and unhealthy behaviors and their consequences.  The goal of the drama is to change audience expectations about the consequences of behaviors such as overeating and smoking. This is done by showing a character suffering the negative health consequences these behaviors often lead to, such as getting a dirty tattoo leading to Hepatitis C.  Another goal is to promote a confident attitude toward changing unhealthy behaviors by having characters model how to do it with all the setbacks and small successes that are part of it.  By showing how the prisoners in the drama overcome typical obstacles to changing unhealthy behaviors, the drama gives the audience the sense that, “If he can do it, then I can do it.”  The primary intended audience is inmates but the group hopes to reach people in the free world to give them a different idea of what prisons and the people in them are like.

For season one the group identified TB (something the warden wanted addressed as well), diabetes and poor eating practices, Hepatitis C, stress and aging in prison as the most important health issues to address. Aging in prison is seen as especially important because many who were given long sentences during a “tough on crime” era are over 50 years old. As these inmates age, their health declines leading to chronic disease and dementia.  These are costly problems that the prison system in this country isn’t prepared to deal with.

In creating this drama, inmates have learned more about health and staying healthy.  For season 2 we are addressing the issue of screening for prostate cancer.  Several men were confused about the digital rectal exam versus colonoscopy.  One member of the group who had repeatedly refused to be screened by digital rectal exam, actually changed his mind after a few weeks of discussing how to influence inmates to consider getting checked.  Another health issue that the group researched and wrote into the script is chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and it’s relationship to depression and violent behavior.

While writing this blog I asked inmates to write down what they would say in a blog. Below are samples of what several inmates wrote.

INMATE CONTRIBUTIONS

Daoud Boone

Imagine waking up every day to someone telling you when to eat

When to sleep

When to make your bed

When you will have the opportunity to visit with friends and family

Imagine waking up behind a barbwire fence

With limited rights . . . with limited sight . . . imagine be out of sight out of mind

Imagine a world of cell mates and lethal mazes

The men at United Prison don’t have to imagine this life

They live it . . .

For some it will be the death of them!

Corrections is a story written by inmates

Addressing issues revolving around health in the prison environment

These inmates are using art to create a fictional radio drama that is true to life and will hopefully bring awareness and produce health behavior and social changes

These inmates are using a negative environment to grow, build, and be productive and positive

We call this program Corrections.  We meet, we discuss, we write, we record

We hope you listen and enjoy.

Alecio Randall (Alecio wrote the following as if he were me, Connie, in first person.)

This challenge takes me into the underside of society. There I help to identify health issues and corrective habits with men (whom) most have cast away from thought and mind.

We embattle (sic) a variety of topics, writing scripts, creating cast, and recording dialogue from inside prison. From high blood pressure to dementia to violence, any and every health issue is explored combined with real life inside on a fictional scale.

Various challenges of going to prison on a weekly basis don’t diminish the rewards of implementing change, hope, and positive ideas and habits. For the very men I know will re-enter society. Hopefully, the message of good health, getting rooted into these courageous and bright minds provides a toehold for change.

 Brandon Hawkins

We have a plethora of common goals and purposes in our agenda. We do not write just for entertainment, but so as not to bore our audience we do throw a healthy dose of entertainment into the mix.  One of our most vital goals is education. Educating the public on prison issues usually kept suppressed from the public, such as: aging, diseases, deficient health-care, drug abuse, etc.  And furthermore, not just how the day-to-day prison life affects inmates, but also how the officers, faculty and staff face challenges and risks daily by working a prison facilities.

Another one of our goals is to give the public an inside view of the issues prisoners face on average inside of prison facilities So when our audience listens to seasons of “Corrections” on the radio, they not only hear the drama, but we place them in the midst of it all, giving them a simulation effect of actually being there, and causing them to visualize the “writings on the wall” painted by our cast members.

James E. Rogers, Jr.

(Providing two examples of the issues we struggle with as a group. The group struggles often with whether to go for maximum realism vs. getting administration’s approval to air. Recently the question has been raised about possible harm from modeling illegal practices, such as using contraband cell phones to video bad goings on and get it out to the public. James commented on the issues below)

We debated whether or not we should use a cell phone to do a documentary of the elderly inmates. (Note: not in real life, but as an element of the scripted plot.)

A Side: the administration would view this as unacceptable. A way to promote b/s.

B Side: cell phones are being used throughout the US system.  Therefore those on this side of the debate want to be as realistic as possible and put the facts out there.  Also that cell phones are not being used as escape devices as the administration states. The majority of the cell phones are used so people can keep in touch with their loved ones, research to help with their appeals. Mainly to stay in touch with their loved ones, trying not to become so distant that when they do talk or see one another that it wouldn’t be strange, awkward or whatnot.

That debate led to another debate: how realistic should we be?

A Side: we don’t have to be 100% correct.

B Side: we don’t have to be 100% correct but we should be as realistic as possible because we are putting a lot of valuable information out there and if I was to do some research and find most of the info inaccurate then how would I know how much of this information that I could take as true.

Curtis Henderson

How arts brings awareness to health issues?

Expression is shown in many forms and the arts has its forms. Visual is the easiest to grasp, where shown through TV and being verbal. You once had silent TV as well to show these issues.

Radio is another form, but you need a hook or to be very creative to hold the audience’s attention. Promotion or with the health issue(s) at had they need to dramatize.

Outbreak

Epidemic

Out-of-control

Deadly

Virus

Contagious

Non contagious

Cancer

Stacey Manning

A lot of people in society view people in prison as big, hulking, tattooed killers. They can’t fathom the thought of them as humans that age, get sick, and die in here like people do in society.

For victims of crimes, when the judge says I sentence you ( . . . ) the saga ends. For criminals, it just begins. Often times the criminals end up in an overcrowded prison suffering from various ailments, not able to take care of themselves and no help from anyone to help them with day to day activities.

I hope that these dramas entertain as well as offer insight into these matters.

It has been the best experience of my life. I had never participated in anything like this. At times it’s so much fun it should be against the law. At other times it makes you want to scream. You just have to realize that we are not professionals or perfect, and we are here to entertain and spread a message. At times the message is lost because the entertainment takes over. So as you listen, remember that is as realistic as we were allowed to make it. The memorial (scene) was so close to me because I’ve attended several while here. The aging because I’m old now. I was 32 when I came. I’m 51 now. The health issues because I have some of them now. I hope you enjoy listening to Corrections and learn something, too.

“Corrections” Archive of Episodes