Interview with Antwan ÒBanksÓ Williams


Antwan Williams: [Music softly playing in background, eventually fades out] My name is Antwan Williams, or Antwan ÒBanksÓ Williams, and I was introduced to this form of art, which is one of my forms of art, painting, maybe six years ago while I was incarcerated. Actually, a good friend of mine who was, who is also on this side of the wall now, named Tommy Winfrey. He was doing a phenomenal painting in the Arts and Correction rooms inside of San Quentin State Prison, and he was painting this guy's face. 

Now, again my mother and my father are both artists. They have done every form of art that I could possibly think of. And I've always been able to draw, but I just never got into painting. And, Tommy actually encouraged me. Nah, he didn't just encourage me, he actually, he gave me like, a little like, pill bottles with some paint in it. So it was like blues and I think he gave me some black, some white, just basic colors and I think maybe some red. And he gave me a couple of brushes, but inside, like, you don't have really good materials. And I went back to my housing unit that night and I just got some regular blank white paper and I just started painting on it. So that's my initial introduction into painting. It was during my incarceration. 

I do consider myself an artist, because I love to create. And creation looks different in different platforms. But the one thing that it really shares is emotions that come from it, and sometimes that is the best way that I can connect with people. Right, like some emotions don't necessarily have words so you can't just write it down or say it and hope that it translates. Sometimes it just has to be felt.

I express liberation through my art in a number of ways. One, I like to speak to social issues, because I believe that for one, we can't separate one issue from another. Right, like as a society, one aspect of one part of one community will always extend to another part of another community. And, and I feel at times it's on me to be a part of those conversations in the best way that I can. So, I will paint signs of protest. I will draw people in conditions of being distraught, or anger, or prominent, powerful people, right? Like just, I use this as a way to, again, free ourselves from the understanding of, or the belief of, if it isn't in my community, it doesn't affect me. Right, like if it isn't in my household, then I don't have to pay attention to it. Because that is the furthest thing from the truth. 

When we think about system-impacted communities, we think about, a lot of times, ground zero, the place where the impact happens the most, but just like, you know, any ripple effect if it might, the splash might not be where your home is, but the waves will make their way into your home, right? 

So I use my art as a way to express liberation because incarcerated people and formerly incarcerated people, people that have been system-impacted or people that is currently like system-involved, and that goes for the family members, that goes for the correctional officers, that goes for the nurses, right, the people that invest their life into the prison system, right, they are system-involved. And you can be a part of this system for so long that you overlook a lot of things and you become attached and you become captured by these notions of who people are, of what they possess, what they can be, what they will be. And if you treat people inside that way, when you go home, you still have that belief, right? Like you still have that understanding. You still see people that way, especially if they start to look like a lot of the people that you work with. 

So, I use my art as a way, again, to express liberation. Because it changes the dynamic of beauty and power and substance while it's created inside of a prison. It's that powerful. Like I've, I've seen it happen. And I capture it by, again, taking times and moments where people are choosing to be free other than choosing to be held down physically and mentally by the bars and the culture that sometimes takes over prisons. There are so many people that are incarcerated outside that have never spent a day in jail or prison, and it is so many people inside that have left prison 15, 20 years ago, yet they still spend their days and their nights in cages. And that is the truth that I choose to capture and to keep with me and to share everywhere that I go. 

I hope to show that the work is never completed. I hope to show that the work is never done. I hope to show that as long as you get the message, as long as the message is received, then we don't have to focus necessarily on how pretty or how perfect things are. One of the things that I feel gets lost is when people believe that more should be done, right. That this could be better if. Or this would have worked if this happened. Or this could have been more effective if this. And I do not believe that that is always needed. When we are able--let me rephrase that--when I am able to get somebody to realize what I know to be true, then I've done my job. 

The moment I can get somebody to realize that I don't need to fill up every aspect of this canvas for it to be beautiful. I don't need to have every color blended for it to look professional, or for it to be considered professional. I don't need every sketch or I don't need the canvas to be so big or so small for it to have more value and substance. When people get the image, when they get the message, then I've done my job as an artist. My artistry provides me an opportunity to translate what I think and what I feel to somebody else. And that may not look complete. SoÉI hope to show people, again, that our work is never done. That our work is never perfect. But our work is worth being looked at. It's worth being thought about. It's worth reflecting on, right. It's worth adding to it. It's worth being a part of it. It's worth thinking about. It's worth sharing. Right, like that's what I hope to show through my art-slash-liberation.

If people were to look at any person in any current position that they're in, and say, not just say it but mean it, but really mean it and say, like, thatÕs beautiful. Like, man, that's powerful. Like, man. that's perfect. That is exactly what it needs to be. Right, like we could find a comfort in ourselves and we can find something to hold on to and to tap into and that shit can change everything for us. 

[Eddie Herena murmurs acknowledgement in background.]

Antwan Williams: Right, like we won't need to go to some, some other place to get that kind of validation. 

[Eddie Herena murmurs acknowledgement in background.]

Antwan Williams: Right, like in moments where we create something that's just for us and it felt true and it felt real, and somebody not just comes along, but they acknowledge it. They recognize it. They take it in. They see it for what it is, not what they want it to be, but they see it for what you created it to be. And they understand that and just salute you, say, ÒMan, that is that's phenomenal work, man. That's beautiful. I get it.Ó

I guess so many people can start to heal, like parts of themselves that is still aching and is still torn, and is still, you know, like reeling from those traumatic moments. So it's like, that's what I want people to do. I don't want people to, to come and see the artwork and be like, it's, it's complete. I don't need to, like, I see it all. I get it all, and like, okay that's it. 

I want them to see all of our imperfections. I want them to see all that we are capable of. [Background music begins to play again.] I want them to think about the times that it was captured or created, the climate that we're in. You know, like how far away from themselves and the art, are they. I want them to think about proximity. I want people to invest themselves in ways that they haven't done when it comes to like interacting with art, or with the artists, or with the process of creation, you know. SoÉthat's pretty much it, bro.

[Music continues until end of video.]