(The follow conversation – between Jackie Sumell and Jospeh del Pesco - was published in Issue #4 of the JRS. Editorially the issue concerned itself with how space is created and how, all too often, it is created for us, unknowingly or against our will. Issue #4 was produced on a heavy paper stock in a tabloid newspaper format and was released in conjunction with the initiative Franklin’s VDC Copy Center in Columbus, Ohio. It contained an interior pull-out poster for Red76 and Iraq Veterans Against the War’s Befriend a Recruiter campaign.)
The Foundation (or “meet Jackie Sumell…”); a conversation between Jackie Sumell and Joseph del Pesco
The House That Herman Built began as a epistolary exchange and evolved into a project collaboration between the artist and activist Jackie Sumell and the inmate and Black Panther Herman Wallace. It’s a correspondence that has grown out of Wallace’s response to Sumell’s catalytic question “What kind of a house does a man who has lived in a six-foot-by-nine-foot cell for over 30 years dream of?” Both in the book published by Merz & Solitude in 2006 and in a recent article in The New York Times by Chris Colin, the details of Wallace’s story, and of the dream house that may some day be built, have been well presented. I won’t go through them again here. As a result of my own correspondence with Sumell, however, I learned of the extent and depth of her commitment to this project, her incredible tenacity and activism, her compassion and raw honesty. While Sumell’s introduction to the publication The House That Herman Built is one of the most lucid and powerful accounts of the project to date, the rest of the book is a one-sided conversation, privileging the voice of Herman Wallace. Sumell’s reciprocation is only present in the occasional citations of her words by Wallace or between the lines as clues and traces. It is clear to me, however, that the collaboration and friendship that started with a pointed question has led to a profound transformation for Sumell. So, as an extension of the existing text surrounding the project, I’ve selected excerpts from our email exchange.
Joseph del Pesco: In the introduction to Steal This Book, written while in prison, Abbie Hoffman says “prison is the graduate school of survival.” It occurs to me that your conversation with Herman, while not specifically pedagogical (like some of the creative writing and theater programs that tend to operate as a vehicle for reform in prisons), has provided him the mental and textual space to learn about himself – to expand his dreams and develop a new strategy for survival. What are some of the things you’ve learned from Herman?
Jackie Sumell: This project and Herman Wallace have changed my life forever. I am a totally different person than when I started writing Herman six years ago. His situation provides context for my own life – for what I endure and undertake… I feel like I can fight any fight because I have been witness to a single person spending more than half of his life in struggle–not only fighting for his freedom and fighting to prove his innocence–but fighting to ensure no one else endures what Angola has put him through.
Between the death of my mom [of cancer in 2005] and the expansion of our friendship over the last 2 years I would say my capacity to care about others has grown tremendously. I no longer just want people to suffer less, I believe I can affect change. I believe I have to.
JdP: What was it like the first time you visited Wallace in prison? How has your friendship changed as a result of these visits?
JS: The first time I visited Herman Wallace he was in Camp J, this is what Angola calls the Dungeon. It is the most punitive part of the prison. They torture people there, there is no natural light, it smells like death. Luckily the first time I went in, I wasn’t alone. I was there with another supporter and that made it a little softer.
In 25 or 30 visits over the last six years, I have only had one ‘contact’ visit with Herman. It was right after his evidentiary hearing in September. Herman doesn’t get many of his contact visit requests approved. I remember him shuffling (because Angola shackles prisoners’ ankles) through the visiting room at CCR, and I thought he looked shorter than he did behind the metal screens. As the guard escorted him towards the table I spazzed out. I just gave him the first hug ever in our friendship. And then of course, I cried. When we sat down at the visiting table Herman said ‘Jackie…. you gotta get tough.’
I would say what we achieve in visits is worth more than 100 letters. These in-person conversations have been critical to the project and our friendship. Both Herman and I love them. The last visit (in his new cell on death row) was by far the best. I had just been surveying land for the project and meeting with real estate agents. Herman was in fine form. He was jumping up and down and we laughed together. We belly laughed together. It was amazing.
JdP: In a way, you serve as a proxy for the viewer. Through you we know Herman and discover the horrors of the prison system. It is through your research into the details of his case and Angola that we come to join you as much as Herman. (I personally feel a strong connection not just to Herman’s story but to your words and feelings about the story.) In this sense your words are a keyaspect of the project, especially as it develops into a documentary. You are speaking for Herman, but you have also become a dedicated and knowledgeable activist. How has this project redefined your personal politics?
JS: I understand now that activism means action. This is very different from my days at Stanford [where Sumell was in graduate school at the beginning of the conversation with Herman] where activism was fulfilled by knowing and learning about issues. I also am much less scattered as an activist. And, I must say, Herman tests me on my politics, challenges me, and provides me with ample reading materials. Hopefully I do the same for him! Sometimes we get heavy into it. He’s a walking encyclopedia not only of knowledge but of experience, so he often has the advantage in debate. But we respect each other immensely so we challenge each other, but only to encourage, to share ideas, and eventually empower.
/// Section 2 ///
Herman’s House and Home
When exhibiting the architectural fly-through video, Sumell has chosen to present a re-creation of the cell to further reify the boundaries of Wallace’s world. This is an approach also used by the Chicago-based artist group Temporary Services with their project Prisoner Inventions, a two-year-long collaboration with Angelo, a California inmate who has cataloged the “incredible inventions made by prisoners to fill needs that the restrictive environment of the prison tries to suppress.” (from the TS website). With Prisoner Inventions, we don’t learn much about Angelo’s life, inasmuch as the project doesn’t point specifically to his story or case. Even though the prison cell in the exhibition is an impressively accurate recreation of Angelo’s living space, the function of this cell isn’t intended to point to Angelo specifically, but rather to represent prison in general. It evokes the environment of constraint that led to a series of creative responses. Sumell’s use of the cell on the other hand, points to Herman directly, creating a psychological tension between his dream house and solitary confinement as experienced by stepping inside the recreation of the cell. This tension of psychological space and the dialectical narrative that unfolds between the dream house and solitary confinement are critical to communicating the power of the project.
JdP: According to Henri Lefebvre, space should be understood not just as the physical parameters of an area, but as the relationship between things and people and how these allow, suggest, or prohibit action. If we agree on this amendment to the definition of space, it would seem that you have created a new space for Herman in his cell by expanding its psycho-architecture. How do you think this project has affected the quality of his life and his experience of being in prison?
JS: When I asked him the original question ‘what kind of house….,’ my intention was ONLY to improve his quality of life at that time. It has since taken on a life of its own. At first I was afraid asking this question was actually disrespectful because at that point there was less hope of proving his innocence and of him being released, and I thought maybe this would be cruel to ask. So I first asked his lawyer, Scott Fleming, and his personal advocate, Marina Drummer, and they both thought it was great. Herman was suffering and they saw it as a way to alleviate that somewhat.
Herman says, in the trailer for the film Angad Bhalla is working on, that this project has helped him maintain his dignity, his sanity and humanity, and that it might be the best decision he ever made in his life. I cried when I first heard this. In fact, Herman never said this directly to me, he didn’t have to, but when I heard it on the trailer, I wept. My gesture is such a tiny drop in the bucket of antidote that is needed to assuage the pain in his life.
JdP: What do you see at the differences between the physical inclusion of the cell into the exhibition of The House that Herman Built and that of Temporary Services’ collaboration with Angelo, Prisoner Inventions? Why did you choose to make the cell out of unpainted wood?
JS: While I respect the decision of Temporary Services to present a near-exact replica, especially because Angelo asked them to, my fear would be that people are often desensitized to re-creations. Re-creations are basically everywhere. They appear in places like Epcot Center or advertising displays in grocery stores ‘….wait, that cheese aint real!’ In a way making an exact re-creation of the cell is less generous to the viewer. One of the most beautiful things about ‘art’ as such is that it creates a space for the viewer to exercise his/her thinking. If the cell operates as a spatial/phenomenological surrogate, it asks the viewer to engage with the cell in a different way, it gives him/her more space to imagine. My hope is it that through this viewers are able to internalize the experience even more.
I chose wood because wood is practical and utilitarian, it is common enough, and there is nothing fancy to it. In that sense it feels honest to me. Herman asked that the house be made of wood because it is the essence of life, and he has seen nothing but concrete and steel for 38 years. The small model is also made from wood and I think this is all a result of the trajectory of conversations with Herman. The process of building the cell is as important as the cell–I mean this in the way that Herman builds his house in his brain through a process of escape, I enter his space through the process of building it.
JdP: Herman mentioned that he wants his house to be made of wood because he has seen nothing but concrete and steel for 38 years. What other choices in his house are directly a response to the prison environment?
JS: I think the entire house is a response to the prison environment. For example, he is dying to touch flowers. This somehow reinforces the reality of his situation. He studies them. He makes paper flowers in his cell. He learns their scientific names and blooming habits, he thinks about their smells, and as a result of their absence in his prison life, he puts them in vases in almost all the rooms of his house… that kills me.
I think any psychologist would look at this house and see nothing but the reference to torture and solitary confinement. For instance, when designing the house his vision is proximal. He can describe in detail things that are very close to him, grains of wood, thickness of carpet, food on a shelf, but overall space and size of the rooms was something he struggled with through out the entire process.
He also asks for the house to be made of wood so it can be ‘set afire to in case under serious attack, (and you and your family can escape to the underground bunker and tunnel for safety).’
/// Section 3 ///
An Architecture of Politics
While the potential for projects like Sumell’s to actualize social or political change is one that is widely disputed in the field of art, The House That Herman Built project has been taken up with fervor by the activists that support Wallace’s release. The collaboration has also been extended to an architect who is working, pro bono, on blueprints for the home. More recently a documentary filmmaker has begun following Sumell’s ongoing communication with Wallace and her search for plots of land on which the house might be built. This momentum and expansive growth of the project suggest that the house itself, while it remains the central focus of their collaboration, may only be the originating point for a larger chain of events. Like Errol Morris’ film A Thin Blue Line, a story which helped gain the acquittal of the wrongly imprisoned, Sumell’s project could be an instance in which the real-world effects of cultural production is evidenced.
JdP: How do you see the potential of the project in relation to your involvement in his case and the organization that seeks his release? Besides drawing attention to his story, do you think the project has any specific function?
JS: This project has been and will always be at its core an organizing tool. I started this project because I cared about Herman Wallace, because I suffered when he suffered. I started this project because I believe everyone should care about Herman Wallace and everyone should want to change the way we live because the system is structured in such a way that one man’s pleasure is another’s pain. This project is set up to offer a softer transition into the political discourse. That is its function. It is a few steps along a very very long road.
JdP: In the 1970’s Wallace and two other inmates (Robert King Wilkerson and Albert Woodfox) became known as the Angola 3 for organizing a chapter of the Black Panthers in the prison. In your words, “they risked their lives to end prisoner rape, improve race relations, and ameliorate conditions at the slave plantation-turned-prison.” Yet the Black Panthers were known for being radical, militant, and believing in the need for drastic and direct action. How does this aspect of the Panthers translate to Herman’s involvement with the group?
JS: This is an important question. I think in all the propaganda written about the Panthers you could switch the word ‘militant’ for ‘resistant.’ The reason the Black Panthers were mainly known for being ‘radical and militant’ is because of constant defamation and powerful propaganda bombardment by the COINTELPRO [Counter Intelligence Program of the FBI]. The Black Panthers were ‘The Black Panther Party for Self Defense.’ It was J. Edgar Hoover’s crackdown on the BPP, which saw them as the greatest threat to national security in the 1970′s, that ardently developed the image of ‘niggers with guns.’
Look at the facts: black people make up 12% of the US population and 48% of the prison population, black Americans make up about 13% of of drug users, and 59% of those convicted for drug crimes. A white man’s chances of spending time in prison in the US is 5.9%, a black man’s odds are about 33%. Homicide rates, poverty levels, literacy rates all indicate a great assault on black and oppressed communities in the United States by an avaricious and aggressive white capitalist system.
The Constitution of the United States was written by the wealthiest group of slave-owning white men in the country. They were interested in protecting their own interests. This is the creed we are following. This is the law of the land! The Panthers stood up against this, legally. They educated the oppressed population, taught them how to read, tested them for sickle cell anemia and started a free breakfast program (which you still see as part of public school education in the States). Their ‘radical’ nature created the space for more moderate people like MLK to speak. What Herman Robert and Albert did in Prison was exactly this. THAT IS WHY ANGOLA IS KEEPING THEM IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.
Check out the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution. This is the one that is supposed to eradicate slavery, but it doesn’t. It eradicates slavery ‘EXCEPT as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall be duly convicted.’ That, my friend, is institutionalized slavery.
When I told my dad I was working with some Black Panthers in Prison he had the same reaction (Brooklyn accent) ‘oh jesus be careful baby, they are dangerous dudes.’ He grew up with the COINTELPRO, so it was all he saw. The truth is the first casualty of war and the US has been waging a war against the poor and predominantly black communities since its inception. We prospered as a country because of the economic benefits of slavery. That model has not changed, not enough, not yet.
Tags: 60's, herman wallace, issue #4, joseph del pesco, prison issues, projects, protest, the black panthers