Disada Productions was asked if we would be willing to donate some
time at a federal prison to teach animation to inmates. Many inmates
were interested in animation as their chosen hobby. This made sense as
animation takes a lot of time, and they had nothing but time. We were picked up and driven to the prison which was outside the
metropolitan Montreal area. It was a maximum security prison and it
seemed like every few feet bars closed behind us before others opened
in front of us. We met the interested prisoners and talked about
animation, giving them pointers, and looking at drawings they had done
on their own. Over the next while, we returned to look at their progress and teach
them further. As we got to know them one inmate intrigued us. He was a
very large man, loaded with tattoos, quite rough looking, and his
drawings were the most delicate of all- butterflies and the like. He
seemed to be a nice fellow and one day one of our animators asked him
why he was in prison. As he kept drawing he nonchalantly answered “Oh,
I killed my wife.” Every so often we would leave the shared artistic
atmosphere and be confronted by reality again. Some time later we heard that there was a riot going on inside that
prison. A woman, a nurse I believe, was killed and we got
notification that the animation classes and visits would no longer be
held. We were disappointed but understood the policy.
time at a federal prison to teach animation to inmates. Many inmates
were interested in animation as their chosen hobby. This made sense as
animation takes a lot of time, and they had nothing but time. We were picked up and driven to the prison which was outside the
metropolitan Montreal area. It was a maximum security prison and it
seemed like every few feet bars closed behind us before others opened
in front of us. We met the interested prisoners and talked about
animation, giving them pointers, and looking at drawings they had done
on their own. Over the next while, we returned to look at their progress and teach
them further. As we got to know them one inmate intrigued us. He was a
very large man, loaded with tattoos, quite rough looking, and his
drawings were the most delicate of all- butterflies and the like. He
seemed to be a nice fellow and one day one of our animators asked him
why he was in prison. As he kept drawing he nonchalantly answered “Oh,
I killed my wife.” Every so often we would leave the shared artistic
atmosphere and be confronted by reality again. Some time later we heard that there was a riot going on inside that
prison. A woman, a nurse I believe, was killed and we got
notification that the animation classes and visits would no longer be
held. We were disappointed but understood the policy.
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