Behind the Headlines: What it really meant
This article was originally published in The Prison Mirror out of Minnesota Correctional Facility-Stillwater. It won third place for Best Long-form Magazine Story in the 2025 American Penal Press Contest.
In reporting on the classical musical concert hosted by Looking at the Stars, it was hard to be the journalist and the incarcerated at the same time. I knew I had a job to do, but I still wore the same clothes as the rest of men in attendance. It wasn’t as if I was afforded a backstage pass that allowed me free movement throughout the joint. No, I simply had a camera and pad of paper.
Like the rest of the men who signed up to come down, I didn’t know what to expect. The thing about prison, though, is anything to break up the monotony of standing up for count, heading to “chow hall,” going to work, or the gym — anything to break up the routine of standing in phone lines and doing the same thing day in and day out — the men are for it. To most of those attending, it was just an opportunity to get out of the unit and do something different.
At the start of the event, the founder Dmitri Kanovich who is a former refugee from Russia, identified feelings which all inmates feel at some point. “I felt useless, like dirt.” Listening to him tell his story, and how he found his way to classical music after a horrible accident which left him in the hospital for an extended period of time, made his words more relatable. As he told us what he found, it felt like another connection, as we search for the same thing. “I found in music everything that I was missing. I found compassion, I found love, I found encouragement. I found all the strength that I was missing to come back.” Dmitri further explained what he hoped to do. He wanted to create an environment that would allow everyone to relax, reflect, and think about whatever we wanted to. Looking at each man, he said, “I don’t know you, but I’ll give you love, because music is speechless. It’s true. When people open their mouths, they lie. Music doesn’t lie… You must have faith in yourself, and others will.”
When the music started playing, each instrument had its own effect. The keys of the piano pressed down created notes that brought forth forgotten emotion. The bow of the violin became a musical sledgehammer, while the bow for the cello morphed into hands. One knocking down walls, while the other tore away brick after brick until the men were free. But I had a job to do, so I came back and watched the crowd.
Serenity isn’t often found in prison, but there it was, sitting at stainless steel tables that never seem to be stainless. It was there in the unrestricted area where inmates can’t go. It was the K-9 and his handler as the animal curled up. Among staff and inmate, the administration, kitchen workers, psychology department and medical staff, there it was. You could see it, you could feel it, and getting beyond the tepid odor of prison food, you could even smell the calm, tranquil, self-possessed serenity of the moment. It was the humility of all those involved that allowed everyone to forget their station in life and just be. No guards or inmates, no badges or O.I.Ds, just music. And yes, the music was speechless, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t bear witness to the most humane conversation I ever saw. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to disturb this rare moment of living behind the wall. The men didn’t carry the weight of past mistakes or dread a difficult and challenging future. Sitting here, they weren’t crowded by sadness, separation and depression, they simply followed the music.
I also had the privilege on a later date to watch the women in Shakopee host their concert. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to attend, but they did record it and eventually played it on Stillwater’s educational channel. They didn’t need fancy gowns or jewelry to stand apart; they simply did. I was awed by the opportunity they were given, and as I watched I had to know what it was like to share the stage with world-renowned artists as equals. Indeed, these women proved to be equals in every aspect.
Originally, the musicians of Looking at the Stars inquired about a soloist who would sing “Over the Rainbow” with them. Shakopee held auditions, and the talent proved abundant. Five women were chosen to perform, which included one who would play the $100,000 piano.
Amanda Sayers tells me what it was like to play on the Steinway. “A truly amazing experience… I was very honored for the opportunity… and very grateful afterwards.” She played as if she always had and looked as though she belonged.
Four other women were given the opportunity to sing, first with themselves and Ms. Sayers on the keys, and then with the professional artist of Looking At the Stars. Maria Foster, Lindsay ShellTrackMiller, Kristy Hanson, and Amanda Knutson all shared some connection to music in the past. Amanda sang singing telegrams with her mother; Kristy sang in school plays and the church choir; Maria sang the national anthem at a Twins game, the Special Olympics and even the Clearwater Rodeo, and Lindsay is the local celebrity in karaoke.
In describing their experience, Lindsay says, “I was honored to have the opportunity to sing not only for my peers, but with professionals who came to perform not just for us, but with us. I felt joy, uplifted and refreshed… It meant that I do matter. I’m not forgotten and there are people who care… It’s beautiful to have good examples of good people with good character doing good things for people who may not deserve it.”
Amanda says, “I felt really important, valued, and appreciated singing with our group, but when we did it again, I was so overwhelmed with joy and love… This experience boosted my self esteem and reminded me of the dreams I pushed aside because of my addiction. I feel like a weight was lifted, and a new vision of my future was revealed.”
Ms. Foster may have been the most euphoric in saying, “I have never sung with such a glorious piano. Adding the strings felt like I was singing on a cloud, seriously! I honestly don’t even remember the encore.”
Kristy Hanson, the youngest of these amazing artists, has been incarcerated since she was 18 and thought that, “coming here (to prison) would ruin my life… and that, all my hopes and dreams were over… but I have gained so much more than what I have lost.” She believes, “We have all made mistakes in our lives, but that is in the past, and we shouldn’t let that define who we are as a person.”
Each of these women felt honored and an immense amount of pride in their performance. And they should. I could see the women of Shakopee share the same feelings of freedom and visions of possibilities that the men at Stillwater felt. Watching these amazing artists perform in front of their peers, I noticed pride swell within the crowd. It seemed like each of them was rediscovering a voice that could be heard in positivity and possibilities. Your performance was as stunning as your voices and your light as brilliant as your ambition. We salute your growth as individuals and collectively as a group.
On Oct. 16, the men of Stillwater were blessed with a world class performance by Walter Delahunt on piano, Jonathan Crow on violin, and Joseph Johnson on cello. For all of us attending, this was much more than a musical concert. It was something new, and not just new to prison, but new to our lives. And even though this music is speechless, as I look at the men and everyone in attendance, I can tell you that it speeks to everyone in their language in their own way. Every musical note and melody removed the walls from around us, and not just the ones that keep us confined but the ones that often obstruct our righteous humanity.
As those incarcerated search for growth and work towards rehabilitation, we remain grateful for such humility that allowed Looking At the Stars to embrace us with music. Their shared belief that we can be more than our current titles inspires hope and opens the door for a million what-ifs. The institution hopes for another concert and looks forward to being embraced by pure truth. Until then, we sit in chow hall flexing ears and searching for the faint echoes of musical sledgehammers.
