IN SHOW OF PRISONERS' ARTWORK, IT'S REDEMPTION THAT'S ON DISPLAY

As visitors flipped through bins of paintings, lingering on the ones
they liked, Anthony Papa couldn't help but recall what a paint and
brush had done for him during the 12 years he was behind bars for
distributing drugs. He had been desperate, and it was his first offense.

"Art saved my life," he said yesterday. "It helped me to retain my
sanity and regain my freedom. The greatest thing for me was my
discovery as an artist."

In a makeshift gallery in the basement of the Martin Luther King Jr.
Memorial Library in downtown Washington yesterday, the works of
dozens of incarcerated people from across the country were on
display. There were serene landscapes and joyous clowns as well as
celebrity portraits, including Tupac Shakur, Malcolm X and Ray
Charles. There were also sober renderings of prison life: a pair of
shackled hands, a roll of toilet paper next to a barren toilet.

Organizers said the importance of the pieces lies not in their
artistic value but in what the expressions represent -- a chance to
rehabilitate those who have gone astray.

"Art provides a second chance," said Dennis Sobin, director of the
District-based Prisons Foundation, which regularly showcases prison artists.

Yesterday's Taste of Justice Fair also included dozens of victims'
and criminal rights advocates and representatives of groups that
provide services to the currently or previously incarcerated.

Among them was Rodney C. Mitchell, a District native, who served time
and now helps others who have recently left prison.

As a reentry worker for the D.C. Public Defender's Office, he sees 30
to 35 people each week, helping them clear up legal issues and get
arrests expunged from their records and steering them toward employers.

"We try to stabilize them," he said. "We try to be holistic."

But there are not enough services to reach the 2,500 inmates who
return to the District each year, in addition to the thousands more
who cycle in and out of the D.C. jail for minor offenses, Mitchell
said. Service providers from the region and across the nation said
they experience the same problems.

One of the biggest issues was what they said were strict penalties
for drug offenses. It is the issue closest to Papa's heart. In 1985,
Papa said, a bowling buddy asked a favor: deliver a small packet of
cocaine in exchange for $500. He accepted and was caught in a drug sting.

As a result of stringent drug laws in New York state, he was
convicted and sentenced to 15 years to life. He spent 12 years in
prison, studying art and finding himself. After achieving some
recognition for his work, he was pardoned by the governor.

Now he travels the country hawking his book, "15 to Life: How I
Painted My Way to Freedom" (2004), and as an advocate for the Drug
Policy Alliance, trying to get fairer laws in place to help people
convicted of nonviolent drug offenses. "Mine is a familiar story," he said.

"Spending 15 years in a 6-by-9 cell, you really discover who you
are," he added. "Art gives people a second chance. If you go to
prison and there are no programs, you come out worse than when you
came in. Why not use the prison as a re-socialization center? You
have a captive audience."

Wearing a Superman backpack, Marcus Robertson, 7, flipped through a
bin of paintings as his father, Vince Robertson, stood nearby. One
featuring a New York cityscape caught Marcus's eye: A plane was about
to crash into one of the twin towers as the faces of dozens of people
ascended skyward.

"I see people going up to Heaven," he told his father, referring to
the picture of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. "My teacher
told me about that."

Robertson, a fundraiser who lives in Takoma Park, said that his work
centers on environmental and social justice issues and that he wants
his children to have broad exposure.

"I came intentionally to expose my son to this type of thing," he
said. "I want him to understand that it's not all entertainment."