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Description
This is a quick render I made of June's personal property box. It's a 3 ft by 1 ft plastic bin with no lid, which inmate's are required to keep all their personal items in. Any books, writing materials, art materials, toiletries, extra food from commissary, and letters from loved ones needs to be kept in this box when not in use. Anything left out will be confiscated by the guards and disposed of.

Recently June has started using post-it notes she was eventually able to buy from commissary to decorate the inside of her box, since she's not allowed to do the same to the box she lives in. It looks like she finally got herself a finer tipped marker to draw with, and she's become quite skilled with it. I imagine she spends quite a bit of time working on it, and runs through ink quickly. It's probably hard for her to decide what to buy with the paltry sum she gets every month from her father, especially with the prices the prison charges. She has to consider how many hours of boredom she can kill with a $6 fine tipped sharpie, or the $3 cup of ramen noodles. The sharpie will last for many more hours of joy, but the snacks provide a sanity saving relief from the awful prison food. When the value of a single marker becomes a heavy decision, you will know what it is to struggle inside of a system you cannot control or escape from. The frugality needed in this place is not something you can learn when you have enough money to fill a grocery bag. You have to hold a box of vegetable crackers someone charged you an entire month's pay for, and savor every little crumb, turn the inside bag out and lick the excess salt off of it. Only then will you know what the real value of a US dollar can be. Otherwise you live in a barren concrete block, sleep on a cold matt, and eat three tasteless meals a day, because that's all they say you need, so that's all you get. Every little piece of a American freedom will be bought and paid for, and the prices will be set according to how much blood they think they can squeeze from the most desperate of stones.

I think June needs to find a commissary sugar daddy out there somehow... any takers?

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This image was made just to highlight a small detail I ended up spending a lot of time on for another large upcoming gallery. Keep an eye out for more coming soon on a special diary entry penned by June Park, regaling her readers with the details of yet another routine cell search, and the humiliating rigmarole of having every inch of her body and personal property, inspected and scrutinized.

Description
This is a quick render I made of June's personal property box. It's a 3 ft by 1 ft plastic bin with no lid, which inmate's are required to keep all their personal items in. Any books, writing materials, art materials, toiletries, extra food from commissary, and letters from loved ones needs to be kept in this box when not in use. Anything left out will be confiscated by the guards and disposed of.

Recently June has started using post-it notes she was eventually able to buy from commissary to decorate the inside of her box, since she's not allowed to do the same to the box she lives in. It looks like she finally got herself a finer tipped marker to draw with, and she's become quite skilled with it. I imagine she spends quite a bit of time working on it, and runs through ink quickly. It's probably hard for her to decide what to buy with the paltry sum she gets every month from her father, especially with the prices the prison charges. She has to consider how many hours of boredom she can kill with a $6 fine tipped sharpie, or the $3 cup of ramen noodles. The sharpie will last for many more hours of joy, but the snacks provide a sanity saving relief from the awful prison food. When the value of a single marker becomes a heavy decision, you will know what it is to struggle inside of a system you cannot control or escape from. The frugality needed in this place is not something you can learn when you have enough money to fill a grocery bag. You have to hold a box of vegetable crackers someone charged you an entire month's pay for, and savor every little crumb, turn the inside bag out and lick the excess salt off of it. Only then will you know what the real value of a US dollar can be. Otherwise you live in a barren concrete block, sleep on a cold matt, and eat three tasteless meals a day, because that's all they say you need, so that's all you get. Every little piece of a American freedom will be bought and paid for, and the prices will be set according to how much blood they think they can squeeze from the most desperate of stones.

I think June needs to find a commissary sugar daddy out there somehow... any takers?

-----

This image was made just to highlight a small detail I ended up spending a lot of time on for another large upcoming gallery. Keep an eye out for more coming soon on a special diary entry penned by June Park, regaling her readers with the details of yet another routine cell search, and the humiliating rigmarole of having every inch of her body and personal property, inspected and scrutinized.