The artist Kenneth Webb, a free man granted early parole after 16 years in prison, smiles as he talks about an experience that he thought he might never have—the chance to see a major solo show of his work for the public.

Webb, 34, was convicted of first-degree murder and another charge for the shooting death of an 18-year-old after a fight while leaving a party in January 2008, court documents show. Webb, then 17, was handed a sentence of 50 years to life in prison.

“Kenneth’s parole date was long in the future, like 2031,” said Meetra Johansen, founder of the Huma Gallery, where Webb’s show “Hymns from the Cave” will go on view this month. “When we heard he was coming out, it was electrifying. I had the gallery; he had the work.”

Kenneth Webb, City on Fire, Girl at Water (not dated). Photo courtesy of Megumi Nakazawa/Huma Gallery

Webb said the trajectory of who he became in prison was fated by an opportunity few prisoners get—oversight by progressive corrections officers who granted him access to materials, whereas their peers might see a 12-inch paintbrush as a possible weapon.

In fact, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation beamed with pride when Webb took home top honors at the Antelope Valley Fair Art Exhibition in 2019, issuing a press release and photographs of his work. The chaplain of the California State Prison in Los Angeles County, where Webb was then housed, accepted the award on his behalf.

Among the opportunities that corrections officers granted to artists like Webb was the chance to put on a show at Frieze Los Angeles in 2020. Webb thought that show, titled “Out of Bounds,” was beautiful. But he took issue with how heavily it was tied to prison life. Though he became a painter while imprisoned, he said his art is about so much more.

Kenneth Webb, Floriography (2024). Photo courtesy of Meetra Johansen/Huma Gallery

“I noticed that people started to call us ‘prison artists’ and every time I would hear that my ears would ring. Prison artist. Well, okay, I’m an artist in prison, but I wouldn’t say that I am a ‘prison artist,’ whatever that is,” he said.

“I knew that, at some point, I would leave,” he added. “I spent half my life incarcerated. So, it makes sense my work has those themes. But if you ask me about the work, I’ll tell you the themes are about identity or power structures—about, you know, just everyday struggles.”

Johansen believes Webb’s artwork has wide appeal among collectors. She said she first learned of his work during the 2020 pandemic when she applied to teach art history at a prison. Because of the lockdown, she wasn’t allowed inside, so she started looking at what was happening inside the prisons.

Kenneth Webb, Black Tendencies (2020). Photo courtesy of Huma Gallery

“There was a lot of mistreatment and I wanted to do a show about it,” she said. “I wrote letters to people inside prison and reached out to art teachers. That’s how I got in touch with Kenneth.”

Webb’s former cellmate, Tobias Tubbs, had been released already and was able to bring his artwork to her for that 2021 show. Johansen said she was blown away by the quality of the work. Tubbs, who is also an artist, co-founded a nonprofit art education program with Johansen called Huma House that would lead to the creation of the gallery.

“I’m seeing Kenneth’s work, and the label that is always put on that type of work alluding to ‘prison art’ as an outsider thing, and I was like, ‘This should be hanging in the MoMA,’” she said.

Kenneth Webb, Strange Soil (2021). Photo courtesy of Megumi Nakazawa/Huma Gallery

In the years since, Johansen featured Webb’s artwork in group shows put on by Huma House, the nonprofit. But the solo show, one of the first for Johansen since Huma Gallery opened in February, will boast a mix of works created inside and outside of the prison.

Webb initially thought of including only paintings that were made after he gained his freedom, but said it “became apparent that I shouldn’t neglect the work that I did prior to being free, and that that work is integral and that it’s important.”

“I’m discovering things about my creative process. Before, I just had more time to make art. There were natural boundaries where people couldn’t call me on the phone,” he said. Prison is what it is imagined it to be, chaotic and loud, so he would throw on headphones and blast Kendrick Lamar, positioning himself against a wall to draw.

Kenneth Webb, Unnecessary Censorship #1 (2021). Photo courtesy of Megumi Nakazawa/Huma Gallery

His work from prison seemed more “intentional” with its composition, he said. He is learning to be as intentional with less time. “I don’t have six hours to do thumbnails and color studies,” he said.

Though Webb has been sketching since childhood, his interest in painting took off when he transferred to a prison in Lancaster, California, that had an art studio. The tenet of the studio was that prisoners could pay for their own supplies, provided that they gave back by donating to organizations like Wounded Warriors or by teaching art to other inmates.

“I flourished quickly in that program, which was different than the rest of the prison,” Webb said. “The prison could be on lockdown and, rest assured, the artists could do what they do because they respected that we’d send funds to Blue Star Mothers or Saint Jude’s Hospital, and it gave us a different proximity to the authority figures within the prison.”

Kenneth Webb, no title, no date. Photo courtesy of Huma Gallery

Webb said two artists in prison, a man named Chuck Wyatt and another he knew only as Rocky, had specific styles with their art that he said were passed on to every other artist in the prison who learned from them.

“The composition of their paintings was very intentional in their style. They taught people in that style,” Webb said. “Even though I have my own style and ideas, I can definitely see the legacy of those lessons being passed on to me.”

Kenneth Webb, Memorial (no date). Photo courtesy of Megumi Nakazawa/Huma Gallery

But Webb also learned a lot of his craft from books he read. “Believe it or not, we had a library of the oldest books that you can imagine,” Webb said. “These art books reeked of just, like, old. So, I studied the Renaissance artists, the masters.”

Eventually, somebody donated contemporary art books and Webb learned of artists like Jack Witten and Kehinde Wiley. But the prison also had a lot of comic books. He said his own art falls somewhere in between the old masters and comic book illustrations.

Kenneth Webb. Photo: Khalil Bowens/Huma Gallery.

Webb plans to formally continue his art education after wrapping up an associate’s degree program through Chaffey College, in Rancho Cucamonga, California, which he started while behind bars. He paroled before he could finish and reenrolled as a free man hoping to transfer at some point for a bachelor’s degree in art. As for how he now puts food on the table, Webb works as an emotional and social educator for children at Big Dogg Gang Intervention and Violence Protection.

“I sat in captivity thinking about what it could look like to have a real art show, who would be there,” he said. “To be here going through the process of creating that in real life feels surreal. I’m so humbled.”

“Hymns from the Cave” is on view at Huma Gallery, 3303 West Jefferson Boulevard, Los Angeles, California, January 11 through February 22.