-

Just made a new poster for my film Voices from Inside
and the distributors New Day Films and Kanopy.

25 years ago, in the fall of 1996, this documentary premiered at the San Francisco International Film Festival. Voices from Inside grew out of my four years volunteering at a federal women's prison (1992–96), bringing theater & mind-body work into prison. Listening and learning all about American justice. Back then prison issues, and especially incarcerated women, were not in the media or on people's minds. And yet mass incarceration was already going on due to draconian laws. Surprisingly, it is an uplifting film – the incredible strength, honesty and aliveness of the women and their children on the outside, are inspiring and enlightening to audiences on the "outside."  Have a look!

"I found it beautifully made and very moving. It is so important for us on the outside 
to realize what 'treasures' are hidden away on the inside." —Susan Sarandon

VOICES FROM INSIDE follows a German-born theater artist into a federal women's prison. She encourages a racially mixed circle of women to find their own voices through poetry and creative expression, and meets their children on the outside. The prisoners tell their life stories and share their experience of prison life. VOICES FROM INSIDE shatters conventional stereotypes about crime, criminals and race. An inspiring experiment in breaking the walls with love!

You can stream the film here

Sadly enough as timely as ever all these years later...

It was a true miracle that we were able to film with a professional crew in the federal prison, the women, and as they said "the angels" made this documentary possible!


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible and good citizen
Read more
-
Image
  Looking at you… f aintly the handwriting reads:    Karina & Bob, Here’s looking at you in 1994 With best regards, Howard   Back when he studied T’ai Chi with me for a few years, Howard was already older, a fine, eccentric gentleman. And a very good and well-known artist. With a deeply philosophical side to him which made him enjoy my way of teaching the Art and Principles of this ancient practice. He’d have questions, comments, always delighted by insights, his or mine.   In the hallway I often pass his small watercolor, with its (faded by now) inscription to Bob and me. Bob’s birthday will be in three days on May 18.  If alive, my late husband – who died in October of 2016 – would turn ninety-five this year. Suddenly I feel the presence of time in my heart, swirling about back and forth, swooshing from chamber to chamber, expanding. Howard’s greeting from 1994 – thirty years later, I am now seventy, about the age he was back then.  Suddenly I am engulfed by the dynamically shift
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent. The upward growth
Read more