The Grand Rapids Art Museum is devoting its galleries to art made in and about the American prison system, with three solo presentations on view through January 2027. The anchor is Julie Green's The Last Supper, a 1,000-piece installation of ceramic plates painted in cobalt blue and shown complete for only the second time. Over twenty years, until her death in 2021, Green painted the final meals requested by people on death row: an overflowing bucket of fried chicken, lobster, steak, pecan pie, and sometimes nothing at all.

Gary Tyler: Rebirth presents the quilts and appliqued works of a fiber artist who arrived at Louisiana State Penitentiary, known as Angola, at seventeen in 1974, wrongly convicted, and spent more than four decades inside, including two stints on death row. Taking his grandmother's quilting as a model and bartering for fabric, he became renowned for his textiles. Released in 2016 after campaigning by activists including Rosa Parks, he once insisted he was a hobbyist rather than an artist. One late quilt shows a great crane, the bird of the wetlands around Angola, marking his first step outside.

Ray Materson: Metamorphosis shows palm-sized embroideries stitched by hand from the threads of unraveled socks, a medium Materson devised during a prison sentence for a robbery committed with a toy gun. His subjects run from baseball to outer space, and in one self-portrait he sits before a mirror stitching the very piece the viewer is looking at, a smaller Materson stitching a smaller Materson down a receding tunnel.

Jennifer Wcisel, the museum's curator of collections, says the question of what incarceration means in American life is never absent. Green's plates map the patchwork of capital punishment: Texas ended special last meals in 2011, after a condemned man ordered a large feast and left it untouched, and one plate records an IQ of 61 alongside a request that the menu stay private. Together the shows ask what creativity preserves under constraint, and insist on the dignity of people the system is designed to forget.