The prison house door is unexpectedly heavy. It takes a difficult pull from 2 people for it to open. The entryway is industrial and bare except for a few posters on the walls showing waterfall scenes with quotes about modify and growth beneath them. It smells sterile: clean, like a infirmary, but with the underlying aroma of an sometime edifice. After signing in, visitors receive a minor black alarm that clips to a belt loop. "Just pull this peg out, your alarm volition get off, and they'll come up running," says a alpine, dimpled guard. His joking communication to pull information technology now, just to run across what happens, earns him a punch on the arm from his partner, a adult female with her pilus pulled dorsum into a tight ponytail who tells him to stuff it. Information technology's a expert day for the staff here at Northeast Correctional Centre in Bowling Green; they are having a party, and there will exist fried chicken and cake for lunch today.

It'due south also a adept day for some of the inmates at NECC: the first 24-hour interval of rehearsal for Prison Performing Arts' October product of William Shakespeare's The Tempest. PPA is a Shakespeare-based arts and literature programme for incarcerated men, women, and children in Missouri. Artistic Director Christopher Limber explains that prisoners in the plan read a Shakespeare play and and then rehearse and perform their own productions for fellow inmates, their families, and the public.

In the sunshine of the prison yard, inmates walk in pairs without a guard in sight. Chris shrugs off questions virtually the lack of guards in the open space, gesturing to his clip-on alert: "I've never had to use this."

It's a 5-minute walk through the m to the rehearsal space. "Any items I bring in—from scripts to props, costumes, or equipment for sound—must exist canonical in writing, and that takes weeks to organize," Chris says. "The instructional activities coordinators, wardens, and staff ever have been very supportive and helpful."

Aggressive Antonio (played past Jimmie) plots against Male monarch Alonso later on a shipwreck strands him on Prospero'southward enchanted island in the successful 2018 PPA production of The Tempest.

PPA began producing Shakespeare'due south plays with prisoners 27 years ago. The group now works in three prisons and 6 juvenile justice facilities. Today they are rehearsing for a version of The Storm in preparation for adapting Margaret Atwood'due south novel Hag-Seed—a modern retelling of The Tempest—into a play. The novelist, all-time known for her 1985 work The Handmaid's Tale, took an involvement in PPA'south piece of work during a visit to St. Louis. As much of Hag-Seed is set in a prison, she granted PPA permission to brand it into a theatrical production.

In prison, Chris says, "Rules and say-so dominate the human being interaction." This may be necessary for safe, but the arts need a workshop atmosphere, he says, where voices can be raised and emotions explored. "Working on a play is ultimately safe and helps build skill sets for rehabilitation," Chris says. The recidivism rate for Missouri prisoners is 43 per centum, but Karen Pojmann, communications director of the Missouri Department of Corrections, notes that educational programs such as PPA lower the backsliding rate. Chris says this is considering prisoners learn commitment, communication skills, conflict resolution, and how to work with a group. They also go a much-needed self-esteem boost.

PPA is not a therapy program, only Chris believes that studying Shakespeare and producing a play likewise helps prisoners bargain with their ain emotions over their incarceration. "Creating a play or sharing a work of original poetry awakens an artist's voice and shares it with the earth like a bright lite," he says. "We all demand the feel of creativity and the resulting recognition, pride, and self-esteem."

Creative Manager Christopher Limber leads a mirror exercise during a warm-up for rehearsal.

Chris has seen inmates get out his program improve equipped to solve frustrations or disagreements. "In our workshops and rehearsals, we encourage feeling empowered and regulated—to limited and define issues, conflicts, and frustrations by verbally sharing with your colleagues." The consequence, he says, leads to better choices by edifice good communication skills rather than stirring up confrontation and fighting.

"I keep thinking if only Congress would do a play," he says and laughs.

The rehearsal infinite is a large classroom that besides serves equally storage for cast-off piece of furniture. A dozen men sit at tables facing a white board. Some of them have been with PPA for years, and some take never participated. They seem a bit bad-mannered, much like high schoolers coming together their instructor and each other for the first fourth dimension—except an armed baby-sit oversees the room from a corner. Chris calls the grouping to the center of the room for warm-ups, and so everyone relaxes into the art of making theater together.

Splitting into small-scale groups for scene work, the inmates talk about their time with PPA and how the program provides a purpose that many say is missing in their lives, particularly the lifers. "This offers a respite from an otherwise tortured life," says Fawe (pronounced Faw-way).

Ferdinand (played by Timothy), left, and Miranda (invitee artist Sophia Dark-brown) receive a blessing to marry from her father Prospero (Jeffrey), right.

"Here I've learned information technology's alright to be yourself," adds Joshua. "This is the place that'due south taught me information technology's okay to be goofy."

"All-time thing about information technology is we can be artistic and get outside the institutional setting," says Sean. "This here is another family, aside from my blood family."

Any prisoner can reap the rewards of PPA. But there are rules. "They demand to be violation-complimentary and bear witness up, exist on time, and fully commit to the process of making fine art," Chris says. Auditions take place afterward inmates report the play; each person then lists three roles they would accept, but there are no guarantees. "Equally with all plays, it is cast for the well-being of the play," Chris says, "and everyone must accept their role with grace and dedication."

Chris leads the men in a word on graphic symbol motivation and plot points. They are smile from ear to ear whenever they are not immersed in a scene. Their bodies move freely beyond the stage as they act out the story, falling this way and that as they ride the transport over the waves to the island.

Inmates cannot movement this freely anywhere else in the prison house. "They would lock y'all up for a horseplay violation," says PPA veteran Shawn. "This is where nosotros become to be free. Here, there is no prison."

In the centre of rehearsal, a player has to leave because he has a family company. "Oft during prison house rehearsals there are unexpected delays," Chris says. "I chop-chop learned that I can trust myself to get the artistic work washed even if we are surprised and the class is shut downward for an hour for a lost central on the other side of the prison house. The well-being of the play and my actors make all the surprises and pocket-sized setbacks inconsequential. Every bit Shakespeare said, 'The play'south the thing.' "

The troupe members have learned they must brand a personal commitment to remain a part of the PPA cast; if one loses the privilege of participating, everyone else suffers. "This class is a motivating factor for me to scout my behavior," Micah says.

They lookout man out for each other besides, even asking others to leave swain cast mates alone out in the thou because, Fawe adds, "We need him to perform in the play!"

Ariel (Shawn), left, fools the jester Trinculo (Bobby).

PPA doesn't just do good the troupe members, Chris says. It also helps the prisoners who see the plays. Almost are securely moved every bit the play takes them imaginatively to other worlds, if merely for a while.

"Incarcerated individuals value the gift of performance and respond with gut-level honesty," Chris says. "The greatest compliment is when I hear: 'I was in that location with y'all all in ancient Rome' or 'That battleship in the Pacific in Globe State of war Two was real—I felt the waves and the warm winds—I completely forgot I was in prison.' "

Rehearsal continues with the work of breaking down scenes. The topic of the twenty-four hour period is, "It'south okay to make mistakes," and Chris repeats information technology as a mantra—skilful to know when a visitor's black alarm falls out of a pocket and begins shrieking. The men freeze, hands in the air, faces tense with fear. The visitor mutes the alarm with apologies and anybody relaxes into nervous laughter. "That's okay," Jimmie says. "We need some excitement in our life."

As rehearsal ends, the inmates gather in a circumvolve and pile their hands together in the center. "I got your back!" they yell in synchrony. They tell each other farewell and slowly begin to file out through the metal detector, their backs stiffening, the difficult looks returning to their faces, the boyish playfulness gone.

Desire to encounter a PPA play or support their work?

Visit PrisonPerformingArts.org for showtimes and donation information.

Photos by Evan Henningsen and Christopher Limber