Episode 34

From Life in Prison to Life as a Cultural Leader: The Redemption of Henry Frank

Henry Frank was rotting in prison alone with no escape. Then, everything changed. In our conversation we talk about the heavy lift of imagining a different future, becoming an artist, discovering true friendship, and embracing his Yurok and Pomo cultures.

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And I was like, I refuse to die in prison. And from that point forward, I started my journey of introspection through the arts, through education, through workshops, through self-help groups to really become comfortable with the ugliness that I had at that time, and really confronted and release it by talking about it.

So, I started learning more about my culture all because, I want to put these things into my painting, which opened up this box that I didn't even know it was in there that was empty. And then it just started filling up. And in my case, it really helped me connect back to my roots, to my culture, to my heritage, and to give me that thirst for more knowledge of where I came from and the history of my people.

I was just thinking like, how did we lose our language? … And when I'm in the sweat lodge it's connected for me. And it's just man, the brutality. That my people, indigenous people, not just here, what they had to go through to be afraid to speak their own language, to be afraid, to do their own ceremonies, to be afraid to show who their children are so they can't beat them and make them do something. It was just, it was a mind opening.

It's oh, this man cares about me... cause he knew how much I cared about him. He was my elder and my mentor and my teacher. And he was the one who changed my mind about the outside. And I'm just like, wow, I never had a friend before, a real friend.

Don't go in thinking that you're going to change, somebody, and don't go in thinking you're gonna save somebody and don't go in with judgment, I did that for 35 years of my life and it got me into prison with a life sentence. 

Hey, none of us are trash. None of us are unredeemable. … if you give us the opportunities and you give us the right environment and you give us the right teachers that we all, can be better. We can all evolve, and we can all learn how to be better people…

I have really benefited from non-violent communication. Learning about how not to be violent with yourself, with your thoughts and how to really cherish express and just honor what you're feeling in a moment…


Notable Mentions

Red Tail Art: This is Henry Frank's artist website. Here is how he describes his practice: I enjoy bringing art into existence, I love the entire process, creating the backgrounds, finding the perfect image that fits the background, choosing the right colors to bring it to life, picking up the paintbrushes and mixing the colors and finally putting brush to canvas. It is very calming and relaxing, I go into a meditative state when I am the zone.

The Museum of the American Indian: “Located in Marin County and situated on a site of an actual Miwok Village, the Museum is dedicated to providing the people of Northern California with programs and exhibits that deepen understanding and appreciation of Native American cultures.”

Yurok People: “The mission of the Yurok Tribe is to exercise the aboriginal and sovereign rights of the Yurok People to continue forever our Tribal traditions of self-governance, cultural and spiritual preservation, stewardship of Yurok lands, waters and other natural endowments, balanced social and economic development, peace and reciprocity, and respect for the dignity and individual rights of all persons living within the jurisdiction of the Yurok Tribe, while honoring our Creator, our ancestors and our descendants.”

 Pomo People: “The Pomo are an indigenous people of California. The historical Pomo territory in Northern California was large, bordered by the Pacific Coast to the west, extending inland to Clear Lake, and mainly between Cleone and Duncans Point. One small group, the Northeastern Pomo of the Stonyford vicinity of Colusa County, was separated from the core Pomo area by lands inhabited by Yuki and Wintuan speakers. “ Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pomo

William James Association: “The William James Association promotes work service in the arts, environment, education, and community development. Our work has been primarily centered around transformative arts experiences in nontraditional settings, serving men and women in and after prison and high-risk youth. Acting on the conviction that the fine arts enrich, heal and unite communities, the William James Association has brought exceptional artists into prisons throughout California and other states since 1977.”

Success Through a Positive Mental Attitude, “Napoleon Hill: Oliver Napoleon Hill (October 26, 1883 – November 8, 1970) was an American self-help author. He is best known for his book Think and Grow Rich (1937), which is among the 10 best-selling self-help books of all time.[1][2] Hill's works insisted that fervid expectations are essential to improving one's life.[3][4] Most of his books were promoted as expounding principles to achieve "success". Wilkipedia

AKTA Lakota Museum and Cultural Center, Pine Ridge: "The land that makes up Pine Ridge Reservation is an integral part of the Lakota culture and the economic base of the reservation. The reservation is situated in southwestern South Dakota on the Nebraska state line, about 50 miles east of the Wyoming border. The area includes over 11,000 square miles contained in seven counties; Bennett, Custer, Fall River, Jackson and Oglala counties in South Dakota." 

First Peoples Fund: “We believe art and culture are essential to life. Art embodies Native peoples’ culture, our understanding of who we are and where we come from. Artists and culture bearers give us the power to connect with our past and chart our future. We center the inherent rights and freedom of native peoples. We recognize that Native communities know what they need best to flourish. Native peoples are not defined by colonization or genocide, but by the strength and beauty of our own identities, cultures, and leadership.”Yurok Language Revitalization: “When the language revitalization effort began the use of old records helped new language learners. However, it was through hearing fluent speakers that many young learners fluency level increased. When the Yurok Tribe began to operate as a formal tribal government a language program was created.”

 Graton Rancheria: “The Federated Indians of Graton Rancheria,[1] formerly known as the Federated Coast Miwok, is a federally recognized American Indian tribe of Coast Miwok and Southern Pomo Indians.[2] The tribe was officially restored to federal recognition in 2000 by the U.S. government pursuant to the Graton Rancheria Restoration Act[3][4]

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Change the Story / Change the World is a podcast that chronicles the power of art and community transformation, providing a platform for activist artists to share their experiences and gain the skills and strategies they need to thrive as agents of social change.


Through compelling conversations with artist activists, artivists, and cultural organizers, the podcast explores how art and activism intersect to fuel cultural transformation and drive meaningful change. Guests discuss the challenges and triumphs of community arts, socially engaged art, and creative placemaking, offering insights into artist mentorship, building credibility, and communicating impact.


Episodes delve into the realities of artist isolation, burnout, and funding for artists, while celebrating the role of artists in residence and creative leadership in shaping a more just and inclusive world. Whether you’re an emerging or established artist for social justice, this podcast offers inspiration, practical advice, and a sense of solidarity in the journey toward art and social change.

Transcript
Bill Cleveland:

Imagine yourself as a lifelong gang member with a 29 year to life sentence, rotting away alone at San Quentin Prison expecting to die there. That's pretty depressing.

So let's now imagine you change the channel and find yourself in an alternate universe as a proud cultural leader, a respected artist and educator whose depth of wisdom and experience is recognized by your community as essential to to its health and vitality. I'm sure you would agree that these two stories couldn't be more different.

And given the Change the story theme of this podcast, you've probably guessed these are in fact two parts of the same story. In our episode six, world renowned book artist Beth Thielen said this about her students at San Quentin these people that.

Henry Frank:

I meet in my classes, they have a whole generational span of experiences in prisons and they meet it with a courage and a generosity and a strength.

And it's these people who are living in this horrible situation and have for such a long time that are adapting to where we need to go faster than the rest of us.

They are like a species living at the edge of sustainability, where there's adaptation occurring, where there's mutations occurring that allow them to adapt and change. And these people bring so much imagination to laugh.

And for me, that's our way that we have to go if we're going to solve our problems with the environment, prisons, if we're going to solve our problems with how we do our communities. Post. So for me, the hardships they have endured give us a way to our future if we can accept and not be afraid of the hard knowledge they've won.

Bill Cleveland:

This episode's guest, Henry Frank, was one of the incarcerated artists Beth so eloquently describes in that clip.

He also lived both chapters of the story that started us off rotting in prison alone, with no hope of leaving, and living in what we call the free world, making his mark along with the rest of us and sharing what he has learned along the way.

In our conversation, we touch on the important milestones of that journey, the heavy lift of imagining a different future, becoming an artist, discovering true friendship and embracing his Yuruk and Pomo cultures. This is Change the Story, Change the World. A chronicle of art and community transformation.

My Name is Bill Cleveland Part 1 I refuse to Die in Prison Let me begin by asking you how you describe your work in the world, your mission, in a sense, your path, particularly to people who aren't really familiar with what you've been up to.

Henry Frank:

I'm Henry Frank and I'm calling from Nevada in California and I am currently on the ancestral land of the coast, Miwok. I also happen to be the board president for the Museum of the American Indian here.

And so I got to really engage and learn about the people that were here. And myself, well, I'm Yurok and Pomo from Northern California.

And I have that connection of that spiritualness when I go to a new place and offer my tobacco just to introduce myself. Other than that, I work for the William James association as the programs and communications assistant and then also as an artist instructor now.

And so how I describe myself is, or the work that I do in the world is an influencer, a contributor to give visibility to the Native American. And currently incarcerated and formerly incarcerated as myself, I spent 20 years on a 29 to life sentence.

At one point, you know, just thought I was going to die in prison. And I accepted that as my fate.

And I never thought about getting out, never dreamed about what it would be like to get out and start a family and working and all. Then one day my friend Arlis was coming out to yard with me and it was in San Quentin. We were on the upper yard and he was looking out.

I was just looking down at the grounds, that's where we have our sweat grounds. And he said, wow, what about those deer hen? And what are you talking about? PBS last night. What are you talking about? He's all, no, right out there.

Look out there. Why don't you look out there? He's like, you don't see those. And they're the big old buck and two does. Clearly you can see them.

And I'm like, wow, that's cool. He said, how come you don't look out there? And he's like, for an intelligent man, you are sure a dumb mf. And I'm like, what?

He's, I don't understand you. You take all these college courses, you take all of these self help groups, but yet you can't see yourself out there. And he stopped.

We stopped in the middle of the steps and he looked at me and he said, henry, look at me. I'm like, yeah. He's like, if you can't see yourself outside these walls, you'll never be outside of these walls.

And it took me about two weeks with just soul searching and some sweat lodge ceremonies in there. And it connected me back to when I first got incarcerated. And I cut off my family in my mind because I was protecting them.

But really I didn't want them to embarrass me or shame me and all that stuff from what I was doing. But when I got incarcerated, my family is the one that came to my. To my side.

And my father sent me this book called Success Through a Positive Mental Attitude by, I think, Napoleon Hill. Anyways, inside it, there's.

There was all kinds of great nuggets, but one of them that stuck with me was, whatever the mind of man can conceive and believe, he can achieve. And so when Arlis said that, like I said, it took me about a week before that to pop back in my head, whoa.

Creator started this 15 years ago to get to this point for this man to tell me that, to understand, like, that's true. And from that point forward, I started watching these shows and I was like, I wonder what it'd be like to, you know, go. Go for.

I wouldn't drink alcohol to go for something after work and just talk about the day or talk about our families or whatever it is before we went home. And then started thinking about, wow, what it would be like to be in a relationship now, and what would it be like not to die in prison. And I was.

I refused to die in prison.

And from that point forward, I started my journey of introspection through the arts, through education, through workshops, through self help groups, to really become comfortable with the ugliness that I had at that. That time and really confront it and release it by talking about it.

Bill Cleveland:

That's a heck of a lot of work. How did your interaction with outside artists and volunteers mix with the introspection that you're describing here?

Henry Frank:

That set my journey to, like, why are these people coming in, the volunteers and the free staff, and dedicating their time to come in and teach us convicts that are going to die in prison at one time, and then it's just they want to make a difference, and this is how they do it in their life, and that's cool. They must not have a life out there.

But now that I'm out here and I'm in the similar job and I have a life and I have things to do, but yet I still need to take the time out to give back to the people that gave to me and that I want to hopefully give back to the guys inside knowing that I can't change them, knowing that I can't live their life for them, but I can be a role model. Like, people were role models for me.

Bill Cleveland:

When you tell that story, which is, I think, a powerful story that anybody who hears it would take some inspiration from, but it reminds me of a story from St. Quentin when I was working in arts and corrections. I remember being in the art room at St.

Quentin, and it was a beginning drawing class, and the teacher was new and made a mistake based on a certain assumption.

And the mistake was, I'd like you to imagine something out there in the world that you would like to draw and write down what it is, and then we'll set to figuring out how to draw. That one guy in particular looked pretty mad, and he said, I'm not interested in going there.

And I don't appreciate your assuming that we're all just on the same train. We live in a different place than you do, and I don't actually like to do a lot of imagining.

And I realized then that our job was, first of all to honor that, and second of all, in the most respectful and safe way possible. Reintroduce people to the imagination that you reconnected with. When your friend asked, can you place yourself out there, not just here?

Could you talk a little bit about how your experience with art making and imagination helped you on your path down that road?

Henry Frank:

Really, I started off pretty much drawing animals and baskets and stuff and stuff that when I grew up, but not really exposed to. And that's because of my grandmother in the Carlisle schools and going through the atrocities that she had to go through.

So she didn't really pass it down because she was trying to protect us. And then I get into the prison system, where you gotta choose where you're gonna be at. Well, I went to the Native American circle.

I mean, there was a huge thing behind it because I was a former gang member as, and I had to make a choice. And then I just figured, you know what? I was born Yurok, and nothing changed since then. So I went with my people.

And then I got in there and I started sweating and I started hanging out with everybody, and people talked about their res experience. And I spent time on the Res, just on the summers, though, like on our property, and just slept on out on land.

Played in the fields with the grasshoppers and running in the creek, playing with the crawdads and my brother and stuff. So I get in there and I just started just drawing that stuff, and then found somebody who taught me some watercolor.

And then fast forward to when I get to San Quentin, and they had the arts and corrections and they had a room with, I mean, you know, high quality artists that are well known in the region and across America and some even internationals. So it's just like, wow, some people that are there that really know what they're doing So I trusted them, and I just was a blank slate to teach me.

And then also there was a artist facilitator. His name was Steve.

Bill Cleveland:

That was Steve Emrick, who was coordinating the program at St. Quentin at that time. Right.

Henry Frank:

He was really just encouraging and supportive of what we wanted to do.

Bill Cleveland:

Part two, a treasure chest at San Quentin. So how did the art program and your personal cultural journey come together?

Henry Frank:

I started doing some sweat lodges and started understanding some of the basket design. So I started writing my tribe and asked them, like, hey, can you send me this stuff, this information? And it took a while.

And Steve called the tribe and said, hey, you have a tribal member here and you let me speak to him. We sent you stuff twice, and it keeps on getting sent back. And I said, what are you sending?

And then he told me, I said, I can't have DVDs, and I can't have hardbound books. Okay. And so they cut it off and they took out the DVDs. And then I received it, and I was like, oh, it was a treasure chest. I was like, oh, my God.

And just the exposure to it, and that's through art, because I wanted to create more art.

But when I did get this, I started teaching myself the language, and I started reaching out to Humboldt State, getting their language course that breaks it down like you're in elementary school to learn it, and then some archival photos. And so I just started putting into my artwork.

And we had a lot of people that came through Humboldt county, which is my home county, and then I'm also pomo, so I met a lot of my cousins through there, but they were teaching me about the stomp dance and bouncing, which is another style of dance, and then the brush dances, the white scare dance.

So I started learning more about my culture, all because I wanted to put these things into my painting, which opened up this box that I didn't even know was in there that was empty, and then it just started filling up.

And in my case, it really helped me connect back to my roots, to my culture, to my heritage, and to give me that thirst for more knowledge of where I came from and the history of my people, which eventually extended over to my Pomo side. And that's a different story because it's about eight years after that that I find out I had another hole.

Bill Cleveland:

Wow.

Henry Frank:

Wow.

Bill Cleveland:

I was thinking about language. I speak one language, and I fumble with that language.

And I was wondering if, as you were introduced to your mother language, if it affected the way you saw or heard or experienced the world yeah, because.

Henry Frank:

I realized I didn't know anything. I mean, I grew up with my grandma. And so we spoke it in the house a little tiny bit for like food and maybe rolls, Father, grandma, son and.

And animals. And we knew be careful and we knew behave. And that's kind of about it.

I never really thought about, you know, because I was a kid, you know, so I never really thought about why is she only. Why are we only knowing this stuff and not really understanding that.

Why am I not speaking Yurok in this house Right until years later when I started learning it and I'm just like, wow. And all of the people that know how to speak.

And there was only at that time, because I did the research and the tribe let me know there was only like five people that spoke at FL fluently and maybe 13 people that knew it moderately. And there was no one beginning. But since then they have done a language revival.

And so now it's taught in elementary schools, it's taught in the high school in McKinleyville. And they had the course at Humboldt State, ironically under foreign languages. And.

And then now they're doing it on the reservation at the elder communities, having these beginning classes and the latest, I believe this year, we have 22 fluent and we have about 80 moderate. And then 200 beginnings. But to think back too, and I was just thinking, like, how did we lose our language?

And I'm doing this while I'm doing my carving on my block print, while I'm painting things, and when I'm in the sweat lodge, it's connected for me and it's just. Man. Yeah.

Bill Cleveland:

I would imagine connecting to that history. There were some painful moments as well.

Henry Frank:

The brutality that my people, you know, indigenous people, not just here, what they had to go through, to be afraid to speak their own language, to be afraid to do their own ceremonies, to be afraid to show who their children are so they can't, you know, beat them and make them do something. It was just. It was a mind opening.

So I started ordering books and on the Pomos and Yuroks and then native people in general and just learning what they went through. And then when I went through, I think it was philosophy.

One of my classes and one of the missionaries wrote a book about detailed what they did to the natives when they got here. And it was. It made me mad and it made me sad and it made me like, wow, what we had to go through to get here.

But also understanding that the people around me are not accountable for that. Their ancestors, pastors are. And to really understand, too.

I was going to the Native groups in their workshop, and I started really understanding the post generational trauma about how I am. And when people, like, I feel so bad that my.

My people treated your people so bad and this and that, and they go into detail, and they're really genuine and heartfelt. And I'll be always saying, you know what? It's not your fault. It's okay.

And then one day, like, why am I comforting you for what your ancestors did to my ancestors? Just, hey, just acknowledge it. But don't sit there and try to get sympathy from me.

You know, I do my best just to let them know in the most gentle way, hey, I accept your empathy. You don't need to hold on to that. And I'm not going to, like, try to make you feel better about it, but just know I don't hold you accountable.

But thank you for acknowledging it.

Bill Cleveland:

I spent some time in Pine Ridge, and what they taught me was there's some in the white community that want to get away with an apology and then be hugged and comforted. And they were not in any way mean or antagonistic in saying, that's not actually our agenda.

Our agenda is, we have people here who live in substandard housing. We have kids who aren't getting a really good education. We have very high unemployment. Let's just work on that stuff.

If white folks are interested in helping out, there's some very practical ways in which our lives can be. Can be better, and then we can break bread around the good work that we do.

But this sitting around talking thing isn't getting the hole in my roof fixed. It's just not.

Henry Frank:

I'd just like to like to add, there are people who go out and build houses. There are people that donate food and all this stuff.

We're talking about the government who is not willing to say, hey, we messed up, and we need to fix this and start putting some money towards infrastructure in the Native communities, in the Native societies. More than just a box of food that just says cheese on it and pork on it, and give some real sustenance, some real nutrients.

I know at one time, I believe the Grayton Rancheria, they were talking with the United States government, and they wanted to make reparations and how do you do it? And they proposed that.

All right, well, just give free education to any Native American in the United States that wants to go to any college, any university, any master's program, doctor's program, and that's it. That would be cool. Just give us Free education until we don't want to take it anymore. I know we. We will not do that.

And I'm like, wow, hearing that, I'm like, that's like a slap in the face. But I understand. Understand where they're coming from, because a educated Indian is a dangerous Indian.

If you understand how the infrastructure works, you can deconstruct it. And. And we've always been that way.

That's why there's a Bureau of Indian affairs and no other bureau of any other heritage affairs except for us, because they know what they did. But let's figure something out where you don't have to have a Bureau of Indian Affairs.

And then they try to tell us, oh, we're doing it for your safety. So we know that nobody is taking advantage of the system. We know who the Indians are. So anyways, I'd just like to just clarify that.

Yeah, it's just not every white folk.

Bill Cleveland:

That is absolutely true. And that's a lesson actually working. And the prison environment was certainly a place where you had to take each person as a human being.

Some folks are dangerous. Some folks can be your friend, you know, in a difficult place to have any kind of friendship. I really appreciate that.

One of the questions is if you have any stories and you've told quite a few already that personify the path that you're on.

Henry Frank:

Well, what got me on my path was really through my introspection of who I was and what I was doing, and understanding that the energy that I put in to do the negative stuff and the, you know, painful stuff in my life is the same energy I'm using now to heal and to do positive things and uplift people and support people.

And it's actually not as hard to do that as it was to stand on people and put down people and hurt people and make people do things that I wanted them to do. And not understanding, hey, they got their own agendas in life, too. They're trying to make a name for themselves.

So I would say I didn't acknowledge the compassion that I had or the empathy that I had because I didn't want to be seen weak. Where now today I see the empathy and I see the compassion and I see the connection. The community just shared understanding as a strength.

And what my idea of a man was back here was, you know, what I did, my. The deeds that I did, and having people fear me and having people talk about me, where today is true to his feelings.

And if he needs to cry, he needs to cry. If he needs to say hey, you hurt my feelings. He's gonna say, you hurt my feelings. That's what a man is, a man.

It's just, it's no different from being a woman.

You're just being the best human being that you can be at any moment and then hopefully acting on the things that can help the next person and support the next, help that person grow, you know, as a person, to the best of your ability and just being there and sometimes just sitting there and just listening.

Bill Cleveland:

Part three, the best chance.

So at some point in your time with the William James association, you decided to return the favor, to give back, to go back inside as an artist, which is no small thing for a returned citizen.

Henry Frank:

It wasn't an easy decision to go back inside of, you know, a place that I had some good memories. Like you said, friends. My first real friend, which I classify as a friend, was in prison.

The first time I accepted myself for being a good looking man and not just a fat lazy bastard was in prison. The first time when I started loving myself was in prison. The first time I really had self worth and self confidence.

And I'm not saying the prison did it for me because you know, in my opinion, they're there to do their job. They're there to make sure we don't kill each other. And I'll leave it at that, other than that they don't care.

But the people that come in, they care. And once I saw that, then I can identify in others that were on the same yard with me or in the same block with me. Oh, wow, look at that.

What proved it to me was my friend Arlis, may he rest in peace. He passed away, but he did get out, so I was happy and we spent a couple years together while he was out here running him around. We had a great time.

But when I was inside one day, he got surrounded by three other people and threatened to kill him. But he doesn't tell me. And so three days later, another Indian was up in my cell talking, do do do do.

He's like, yeah, that's crazy the way they threaten Arlis. And I'm like, what are you talking about? He's like, yeah, this is went down. I said, how come? Why don't I know? I'm his best friend and I'm mad.

I take off, I go down to the yard, I'm looking for him. Like, no, so he must be in the cell. So I ran back up, he was in the cell. The doors are unlocked during the day. So I open up, come in, I sit Down.

I said, we need to have a talk. And he's like, about what? And I said, no, you tell me, what is it? I said, first of all, are we not friends? Are we not brothers? Are we not family?

And he's. Yeah. I said, how come I found out three days ago that these three people threatened your life? I don't understand.

You know, I'm not gonna tolerate that. And he looked at me and he said, henry, I told you because I know what you would do.

And out of everybody here, this whole Indian community, you have the best chance of going home, and I am not going to be responsible for taking that from you. And I was like, wow. Blew my mind. I did not expect that answer from this person because he was hardcore.

He was okay with stabbing people and, you know, eating Cheerios afterwards. But here we are. And I'm just like, whoa, I've never had that before. And I said, all right. I said, that's cool. I appreciate that.

And I go back to my cell and I just think about it, like, wow.

And I didn't really understand the power and understand the dynamics of it probably for a while, but I was, oh, this man cares about me, you know, And I think he cared about me because he knew how much I cared about him. He was my elder and my mentor and my teacher, and he's the one, you know, who changed my mind about the outside. And I'm just like, wow.

I never had a friend before, a real friend, one that I didn't have to worry about, one didn't think about, what is he trying to get from me? What is all this stuff? All of that was gone. And it changed our relationship again. It enhanced it.

And I used to, like I said, I used to watch Boston Legal, and at the end of it, I don't know if you ever saw it, but at the end of it, they'd always sit outside on the patio there in their office, and they would drink their scotch and have their cigars, and they would just talk about the day. And I just wish, oh, I want to experience that one day.

Every night, Arlis and I, we'd be the only ones that would go down to the grounds and night yard and just sit on the grounds, raining. No matter what we were out there, we were always out there.

And I'd have my cup of coffee, and he'd have his cup of coffee, and we'd just sit there and we'd just talk about the new brotherhood came in the yard. We talk about the sweat. What can we talk about? How he's doing with his medical because he was a diabetic.

And then I had my chest pain, and I was just like, sitting there, and one day I was just sipping it, and I was like, whoa, I'm living this. In the middle of this prison yard. I am living this. I wanted it and Creator gave it to me. So I'm like, all right.

That even made me like, I want to get out and just start putting my energy into it, because I didn't put a whole lot of energy into this. And Creator gave it to me. So I was like, what can it hurt? What can it hurt? What can it hurt to have hope?

Bill Cleveland:

Absolutely. And, Henry, a story is so powerful and so heartfelt, and thank you for sharing. Reminds me of a couple things.

Number one, what a hell of a journey to go from what many men learn, which is nobody will respect you unless you threaten them. That's an early message that a lot of little boys learn right away.

And to actually be able to turn the corner on that in a place where there's a lot of that going on, it's not exactly nurturing, empathic place, the joint, but the other thing, inside or out. I imagine there are many men who would give their eye teeth to have a friend like yours to be able to tell a story like that.

Those are too precious things in the world, wherever you are. And what a gift now that you carry that with you in your work and in your life and in your relationships with the community that you live in.

That's a gift. That's a gift.

So if you were at a table with younger people who go, well, Henry, I'd like to follow in your footsteps in the best of them, and you're on the verge of being an elder, and elders do pass on important wisdom to people who are coming up behind them. What would you share?

Henry Frank:

I think I shared earlier, don't go in thinking that you're going to change somebody, and don't go in thinking you're going to save somebody. And don't go in with judgment. I did that for 35 years of my life, and it got me into prison with the life sentence.

And when I stopped judging people and stopped making up my own stories about people and started actually communicating with people to understand their life and understand where they've been and where they want to be and where they would like to go, imaginary or real, just to have a future plan instead of just dying in prison like I had. Just go in to be the best person that you can be who you are and don't think that you're perfect. Know that you're going to learn.

You're going to learn from them. You're going to learn from yourself. You're going to learn from the experience.

You're going to learn from the reaction of when you tell people what you're doing. You're going to learn from that. You're either going to grow from it or you're going to retract from it.

And just look at it when that happens and understand why you're having this reaction. What is it that you're telling yourself about the work that you're doing?

So for me, this is my way of giving back, since I'm formally incarcerated, my way of letting the staff know, hey, none of us are trash. None of us are not unredeemable, unrehabilitative.

If you give us the opportunities and you give us the right environment and you give us the right teachers, that we all can be better, we can all evolve and we can all learn how to be better people in the sense of being functional within society, being functional within a community, being functional with the people around me.

And I didn't share this before, but when I was in Arts and Corrections as an inmate, a person experiencing incarceration because we want to be mindful of our words as well and make sure that we understand they are human beings and not dehumanize them. That when I was in there and I was there and I was painting and I was sitting there with other people drawing.

But over time, I learned about their families, I learned about their dreams, I learned about what weighs on them. And then also watching them interact with the free people, the instructors, and seeing how they Black Gary. I didn't see Mexican Felix.

Eventually it was just Felix. Eventually it was just Gary.

And then it's just like my fellow artist, printer, or the acrylic guy, or the guy who just puts so much detail in his painting, like every, every piece of hay, it just came to that. And then also understanding that there was different cultural, there was different religious backgrounds and none of that mattered.

We just were just sharing our lives with each other.

And in that moment, I didn't realize the social dynamics of it until years, like probably a decade later when I'm out here and I was talking about it on a panel, like, what did Arts and Correction give to you? And that's when I realized everything that was given to me besides just great art instruction.

But my self confidence again and getting my self worth, seeing myself more than just a piece of shit as the officers would tell you quite often, I'm an artist. And if I'm an artist, I'm a human being.

And so with a person coming in, the free instructor that comes in and calling me by Henry instead of J2.8 started humanizing me.

And so just have an open mind, an open heart, and an open spirit, and just be there because you want to be there and just do as much good as you can do, and that's it. The rest will do itself.

Bill Cleveland:

The thing you mentioned there, which is so powerful, this is a place that is designed to create adversaries in many ways and accentuates all those differences that you describe. For anybody who's not aware of this, we certainly have extraordinary tension in our everyday lives in the free world around difference and judgment.

But that's nothing compared to the way in which our correctional institutions, these prisons, manifest. They take humans and they push them in the most intense way against each other.

And to be sitting at a table and have a black man, a brown man, turn into a human being in front of your eyes, inside your head, and to be arguing watercolor technique rather than whose gang's going to take on whose gang. I think there are people who know prison who would say that's a miracle.

Henry Frank:

Yeah, definitely a place that wants you to be a certain way, and it's up to you to be something else as much as you can. And so in there, I was learning and people were giving it to me. And at one point I thought I just said, I think I'm really. I'm ready to give back.

I'm wasting away in here. My life has been thrown away by my deeds. Don't get me wrong, by my deeds. But I have so much potential, and you're just letting me rock.

And I carried that until one day is, you know, that's where I got, you know, just, I'm going to be the best person I can be. I'm going to help the people that around me. And so that's when I started getting into those leadership positions. And I can lead by example as well.

And I've had struggles, don't get me wrong. And part of it, part of it getting me through it was remembering that I had this position.

And if I did do this, those people who are holding me as the. The role model. He can't do it. I can't do it.

Bill Cleveland:

Part 4 Being Free so, Henry, you learned a hell of a lot inside. What has being on the outside taught you?

Henry Frank:

I've been out for eight years now, and it took Me, about two years to get rid of all of the tics and all the physical reactions that I had. And I didn't really realize until I was in and until I was, like, walking down the street.

And all of a sudden, I get tense and everything and had to identify what going on. And sometimes it was just quietness. Sometimes it was loud noises.

Sometimes it was just a position of a person moving too quickly or something like that. And about the end of the second year, I'd always have this feeling, somebody's gonna get me. And I was a gang member, and then I was in prison.

And so you're always on. You're always watching everything. You're always ready for whatever's gonna happen.

And so I had just taken my friends to the airport in their van, unloaded them, unload the whole pack, got him to the thing, got back in the car, and I was driving back over the Golden Cape Bridge, and I just felt like somebody was back or ready to just choke me out or something. And I'm just like, I know nobody's back there. There is nobody back there. Because I emptied the van and I just started tearing up.

Said, creator, why are you doing this to me? What did I do? And I just went quiet. And as I was driving, and I think for the first time in my life, I was like, I am safe. I am safe.

I am not doing anything to aggravate somebody. I'm not antagonizing anybody out. Nobody knows who I am or who I was. I am safe.

Bill Cleveland:

Wow.

Henry Frank:

And that night, where I lived with the couple, they never locked their doors, but when they were gone, I'd always lock the doors because, you know. But that night, I was like, I'm not gonna lock the doors. Went upstairs, and it took me a minute to get to sleep, but I was just, wow.

And that really let me. Not too long after that, I met my wife.

Bill Cleveland:

What a beautiful thing I believe there is.

Henry Frank:

Yeah. So it takes a toll on a person. So just have some compassion when you're around a returning resident and having some. And just talk to them. That's it.

Just like a regular person. Because they are regular people.

Bill Cleveland:

Giving them the love and support to get settled. And once that happens, once the stall starts to settle, other people can feel it. It's attractive. My final question.

Many of the things that we encounter on the inside are more and more showing up on the outside. Judgment, antagonism, a lot of fear. And. And given what you have learned, have to offer to a world that needs to heal and to find Common ground.

Henry Frank:

It'S a simple but most hardest thing is to listen, is to state your case without trying to win your case and then to listen to someone else state their case without believing that they're trying to persuade you to their place and then see where that common ground and work towards it. Like you're saying about the reservations, like oh, we're sorry, okay, that doesn't do anything.

But if you're sorry and you start putting support into that community, however it may be, then some healing can start. Will it be complete forgiveness? Maybe not.

But at least it would be some healing and some mending where you can actually see each other as a support instead of a oppressor or a suppressor or a two faced or forked tongue, whatever you want to call it. And so your action must match your words. I think we need to start in the elementary schools. I have really benefited from non violent communication.

Learning about how not to be violent with yourself, with your thoughts, and how to really cherish, express and just honor what you're feeling in a moment and be and feel safe enough where you can express how you feel, where the other person can have that space and not judge you for it and just take it in and then respond in the best way that you can through empathy, through action, through requests.

And people are more in tune with who they are, where they're not lashing out and trying to deflect all these things to find out what your defects are, what you are ashamed of and just be open and have people accept that.

And that is so hard in today's society and you know, kindergarten all the way up because there are the have and have nots and, and that you can have not and still be proud and you can still have self worth and all of that stuff.

And a person can have, you know, all the money in the world and not have that self worth, not have that self confidence because everything was done for them. It's not their fault either way.

But I'm just saying just have that communication open where you can just honestly and genuinely just share what's going on in your life and just, you know, let it go where it may and just do the best to support them and say, oh, hey, why don't you.

Bill Cleveland:

Come over to White House and Henry, one of the privileges I have in having these kinds of conversations is that I get to do the thing you were just describing, which is to listen.

You have told a story that spiritually and I think very materially manifest that idea that stories are powerful things and they can hold you hostage and they can set you free. And I really appreciate your sharing it with us. I really do. Thank you, Henry.

Henry Frank:

I'd just like to offer my appreciation too, to my gratitude. And just thank you for having this space not just for me, but for everybody that you're going to have here too.

Let those people share their stories so they can be seen. I just am grateful. Thank you.

Bill Cleveland:

Well, Henry, grateful is a good thing to be these days, and we are very grateful to both our guests and our listeners. We know your lives are, well, probably complicated these days, so thanks for taking the time to tune in.

And if you like what you're hearing, we ask that you take a moment to do two things. First, first, share our podcast with your network of friends and second, click on the subscribe button on your podcast player.

These are pretty simple things, but they make all the difference.

Change the Story, Change the World is a production of the center for the Study of Art and Community, and if you're curious about what that is, check us out at www.artandcommunity.com. the show is written and produced by yours truly, Bill Cleveland. Our theme and soundscapes are by the incomparable Judy Munson.

Our editor in chief is Andre Neve, and as always, our inspiration rises up from the mysterious ook235. So until next time, stay well and spread the good word.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for Change the Story / Change the World
Change the Story / Change the World
A Chronicle of Art & Transformation