Art & Second Chances

Written by Elizabeth Parsons
Photography by Doug Miller

Welcome to the Roanoke Valley Juvenile Detention Center, or “Coyner Springs” as it is commonly known. Once you’ve been buzzed through the heavy iron gate and the door slams behind, you enter a sparse waiting room. The only interruption from the gleaming white walls is a placard entitled “Detainee Rights,” a few vinyl chairs, and small tables where various pamphlets are displayed. “How to Tell if Your Child is Using Drugs,” reads one. Another lists tips for “Gun Safety and Awareness.” Until a staffer arrives to check your bags, you stand alone in the cool silence. It’s an artificial calm that masks the fact that, less than 30 feet away, there are young inmates who have committed arson, robbery, rape, and worse.

Is the detention center an unlikely place for art? Twenty-two year old muralist Heather Reynolds doesn’t think so. “I see God in everything,” says the dreadlocked South Florida native, as she dabs her paintbrush into a can and reaches toward her 10’ x 22’ mural. Reynolds is working beyond the waiting room, in a hallway typically tread by only offenders and staff. Beside her, a seventeen-year-old detainee* is laboring, stroking his brush back and forth, spreading blue into the painting’s night sky. “At first I didn’t know what this was about,” says the young man. “But this painting has a really deep meaning to it. It’s really touched me.”

The inmate is one of ten who is assisting Reynolds with her work, a piece commissioned by the detention center. He and the others are participants in Impact 180, an innovative rehabilitation program that prepares inmates for their return to society (currently there is not enough funding, nor candidates, to run a parallel program for girls). An Impact 180 participant must be nominated by his parole officer and pass a series of interviews and tests to be accepted. He must not have been convicted of a violent crime; most are here for drug possession, sale, and/or non-felony gun charges. He must not only endure, but excel, in a rigorous, military-styled regimen to be released—180 days later, if he plays his cards right.

Impact 180 “cadets” live separately from the rest of the Coyner Springs kids and receive special privileges such as one-on-one attention and working with Reynolds—but life inside isn’t easy. Except for the weekends, they wake up at 5:30 am. Cadets wear uniforms and march military-style from one task to the next. Every waking moment is scheduled with exercise, school, chores, and tests.
But the program presents a second—and final—chance. Nearly all youth accepted enter on a “suspended commitment” to the Virginia Department of Juvenile Justice. Those who breach Impact 180’s rules by fighting or even talking insubordinately have their sentences reinstated, and may never again return to the program. This means they leave the relative shelter of Impact 180 and Coyner Springs for a rough-and-tumble correctional facility “up state.” And if a graduate of Impact 180 violates the terms of his parole, he goes straight “up state.” That’s a harsher deal than the other parole violators get—depending on the offense, they may avoid “up state” and return to Coyner Springs instead.

Choices, and second chances, comprise an important theme in Reynolds’ mural. Though she is quick to point out that every viewer will have a unique interpretation, the mural—entitled “In a Misunderstood World, Your Hands Make the Difference”—is a metaphor for the cycle of life and the crossroads that every human being faces throughout. In the center, a pair of hands holds a newborn baby, presenting it to the world. At the bottom left corner, three generations—a child with his father and grandfather on either side—walk on a sun-drenched road, representing the “clear path,” and “how important it is to learn from past generations.” Another pair of hands releases dove-shaped clouds into the sky, symbolizing the end of life.

In the lower right corner, leaning up against a wall with her head lowered, is a young girl with long dreadlocks similar to the artist’s own. Looking distraught and pensive, the girl is at a crossroads, explains Reynolds. She is “everyone who goes through hard times, questions what’s going on, and what the future will hold.”

Hands are a recurrent symbol throughout the work. They represent what Impact 180 hopes to impart to its participants: that change is possible. That salvation is attainable—you just have to reach for it.

The cadets agree. Most of those interviewed say that they want to go on to college after being released. Nearly all want to play professional football. “But if that doesn’t work out,” says one shy teenager, “I want to become a lawyer. Because people helped me out, you know, and I want to give back. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Reynolds is not surprised. “The kids are so smart,” she says. PDI Lane, who manages the boys from day to day, explains that many of them have simply not had the resources to stay straight. Although each cadet has a unique story, many come from broken and poverty-stricken homes and drug-infested neighborhoods. “Some are raised by their grandparents,” says Lane. “And even though they do their best, how can grandparents control a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old troubled kid?”

Reynolds believes the mural project is a “very progressive” move for the center. Psychology now recognizes art therapy as a legitimate treatment, but its use is not yet widespread in institutions like these. Pamela Alexander, who is the center’s licensed professional counselor, says, “The experience of creating any kind of art…can be therapeutic. The freedom of expressing oneself creatively brings peace and relaxation, while the finished project produces a sense of accomplishment and completion.” Art therapy “allows us to access hidden material in our subconscious minds and to express feelings that may be unspeakable…”

Alexander admits that many of the “youth in crisis” who end up in detention are guarded and reluctant to trust. “Projects [like the mural] that allow collaboration and artistic expression help break the ice and create a more open environment, which is especially important for a facility that regards safety and wellness as priorities.”

Reynolds is thrilled to be involved in such an enterprising project, and recently committed to teaching weekly dance and art classes at the center. Her helpers are also pleased, speaking excitedly about the mural and the roads ahead of them. “I was like that girl when I first got here,” one inmate remarks, pointing at the mural. “Now, I’m like the baby,” he adds hopefully, eyes bright. “I’m ready to start a new life.”

This article is dedicated to the hard-working participants of IMPACT 180—and to all young people trying to turn their lives around. For more about the Roanoke Valley Juvenile Detention Center, visit www.rvjdc.org. You can reach artist Heather Reynolds by emailing dreamlifestudios@excite.com, and see another example of her work at Ashley Furniture in Roanoke. For more information on the benefits of art therapy, visit the American Art Therapy Association, Inc. at www.arttherapy.org.

*In order to protect the identity of detainees, City has refrained from printing their names or showing their faces in the article and the accompanying photo.

Posted: January 1st, 2007 under Visions.
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~Elizabeth Parsons’ passion for culture and the arts has earned her a degree in Anthropology and stamps on her passport from places as diverse as Ecuador, Turkey and the European Union. Recently working as a Writer and Event Planner for the Grammy Music Awards in San Francisco, CA, she returns to her hometown of Roanoke to pursue her M.F.A./Creative Writing at Hollins University. Elizabeth can be contacted at 540.345.6300 or elizabeth@citymagazineonline.com.