On a mild fall evening, September 15, 2015, a memorial service for Peter Collins took place at the Quebec Public Interest Research Group (QPIRG) Concordia, a Montreal organization dedicated to supporting grassroots student and community activism. Many attendees were familiar with Peter Collins through Fly in the Ointment (2015), his powerful video about solitary confinement, which had gained significant online traction. The QPIRG venue was filled with friends, family, and supporters, gathered before large windows overlooking the city. Peter Collins’ drawings and paintings were projected onto a screen, and original pieces were displayed on easels and walls. A simple spread of veggie platters and cookies was available. Attendees shared heartfelt and emotional stories about Peter’s influence, many expressing anger at the prison conditions that contributed to his death. Peter Collins, through his art created while incarcerated, became a voice against the severe injustices of Correctional Service Canada (CSC), a stance that ironically hindered his chances for parole.
Born in England on August 22, 1961, Peter Collins relocated to Ottawa with his family in 1967. He was remembered as an inquisitive, kind, and bright child, particularly fond of animals who seemed drawn to his gentle nature. However, his home and school life became challenging, leading Peter to leave home at a young age. Living on the streets made him vulnerable, and he became involved in criminal activity. In 1983, Peter Collins was arrested for multiple bank robberies. Later that year, he escaped from the Ottawa-Carleton Detention Centre. During his escape, in a tragic turn of events during a failed bank robbery, Peter Collins shot and killed Nepean Police Constable David Utman. In a 2015 interview with the Ottawa Citizen, Peter Collins reflected in the third person on his younger self at the time of Utman’s murder:
He was someone who didn’t understand consequences. He didn’t have any comprehension of what could happen, what it actually meant. . . . I wish I could have spoken to him back then. I wish things hadn’t turned out the way they did. Yeah, fuck, you know, but you can’t change any of that. You can only move forward. But certainly, there’s a lot of regret around that. . . . I’ve done my best to address my shortcomings such as they were, and I’m satisfied with those efforts. If I had one last thing to say, I’d say I regret the people I’ve hurt and the pain I’ve caused them.
Final Confession: Man Who Killed Ottawa Police Officer Reveals Full Story of His Crime.” Ottawa Citizen, June 26, 2015.
Life Inside
In conversations and correspondence with Peter Collins’ family and friends, he was affectionately referred to as both “Pete” and “Peter.” “Collins,” the surname, felt too formal, especially as it was the term used by CSC staff. While “Pete” felt too informal for this essay, given the author never personally knew him, “Peter” was chosen as the most appropriate name. According to his sister, Lucy Collins, Peter Collins began creating pen and ink drawings of birds of prey in the 1980s, early in his life sentence. From this starting point, his artistic expression broadened to encompass painting, mixed media, video, writing, and audio works.
Alt text: Peter Collins artwork Peregrine Falcon and Wall, depicting a bird of prey perched on a concrete prison wall, symbolizing confinement and yearning for freedom in prison art.
These artworks were circulated within the prison and sent to friends, family, and supporters outside, often in elaborately decorated envelopes. Regardless of the medium, a central theme in Peter Collins’ art was the systemic failures of the CSC: its inability to provide care, facilitate genuine rehabilitation, or think beyond the confines of prison walls.
Fly in the Ointment (2015), created in the final year of Peter Collins’ life, is a visually stark and emotionally impactful video. Its palette is dominated by greys and cold blues. The video features a fly trapped in an inverted glass jar on a plinth, accompanied by Peter Collins’ calm, diaristic narration. The audio was recorded at Bath Institution, a medium-security federal prison near Kingston, Ontario, where Peter Collins spent a significant portion of his incarceration. This audio was later combined with visuals filmed by a team including Sheenah Jennings, Martin Zeilinger, Suzanne Fish, and Judith Muster. Peter Collins’ narration details the physical and psychological torment of solitary confinement, highlighting his survival strategies. In a particularly poignant segment, he describes creating an ointment of blood and spit to attract flies to his skin:
I spread some of the mixture on the sensitive area of my neck. This “unconventional relationship” has gone on for decades, and while I can’t recall how many flies have kept me company throughout my incarceration, I can say I appreciated the moments that they allowed me to dream that I was somewhere else with someone I loved.
Fly in the Ointment, directed by Peter Collins.
The video concludes with a slow zoom into the glass jar, where the trapped fly becomes still, and the screen fades to black.
Fly in the Ointment functions as both a meditation and a call to action. Following the credits, the video provides links to resources and prison abolition organizations like Critical Resistance, offering viewers tools for political engagement. The video is accessible on YouTube and has been screened at numerous film festivals, though Peter Collins himself never saw the completed work due to restricted internet and video access within prison. Instead, collaborators sent him printed stills arranged to simulate movement, like a flipbook.
Jailbird (2011), a 2-D series developed over two years, presents a contrasting tone, depicting scenes both inside and outside prison walls. Created using mixed media on paper, these works feature detailed landscapes, prison architecture, and wildlife, particularly birds. In a 2012 statement about the series, Peter Collins wrote: “The more I look at these paintings, the more I would like to continue to create paintings that represent the many different birds that travel to all the different prisons across this planet, bringing with them, on the wing, the hope and promise of something other than imprisonment.”
In Sparrow by the Window, a small bird is nestled between a brick wall and steel cell bars, confined on three sides. The close-up view, rich in texture and intricate detail, evokes claustrophobia and vulnerability. In Peregrine Falcon and Wall, the viewer looks up at a falcon perched on a towering concrete wall topped with razor wire. Great Horned Owl and Field depicts a fence stretching to the horizon, with the prison in the background, out of focus, while an owl on a fence post gazes back at the viewer. The animals in these paintings—inside, on the wall, and outside—all symbolize a longing for freedom beyond incarceration.
Beyond his personal experiences, Peter Collins also created art addressing the struggles of others within the prison system. His drawing Aboriginal Strategy (2012) was featured in the 2015–2016 Certain Days Freedom for Political Prisoners Calendar.
Alt text: Peter Collins’ artwork Aboriginal Strategy, a powerful visual statement on systemic oppression, combining razor wire, security cameras, and social issues to represent incarceration’s impact on marginalized communities.
This piece is a dense composition of razor wire, security cameras, fences, harsh lights, lightning, and bird eyes, set against a dark backdrop. Scrawled phrases within the nighttime imagery highlight social injustices: Poverty Tipping Point, Conservative Refugee Reception Centre, Canada’s Black Housing Project, Canada’s Mental Health Care Unit, Canada’s Battered Women’s Shelter, Where G8-G20 Protesters Go / Home if You Protest, and simply, Prison. This work powerfully underscores how incarceration functions as a tool of state control over marginalized populations.
Peter Collins’ engagement with Indigenous solidarity began during the 1990 siege of Kanehsatake (Oka Crisis), leading to his drawing Stolen Land (1990). This image was reproduced on T-shirts, one of which was gifted to Elijah Harper, then Chief of the Red Sucker Lake First Nation. During an immigration hearing related to his British citizenship, Peter Collins refused to stand for the judge until Indigenous representatives were present, emphasizing his belief in the ongoing colonization and over-incarceration of Indigenous peoples in Canada.
Annie Gurlle (2014) is a stark, hand-painted graphic novel created in response to the death of Ashley Smith.
Alt text: Excerpt from Peter Collins’ graphic novel Annie Gurlle, depicting a young woman in distress within a stark cell, highlighting the devastating impact of solitary confinement and mental health neglect in prisons.
Ashley Smith died at age nineteen in 2009 from self-strangulation at Grand Valley Institution for Women in Kitchener, Ontario, after prolonged solitary confinement and severe mental health issues that included self-harm. CSC officials instructed guards not to intervene unless her breathing was affected. On the day of her death, guards waited until she stopped moving before acting.
Robert Collins and Joan Ruzsa consider Annie Gurlle one of Peter Collins’ most significant projects, addressing the plight of women like Smith, who were often detained for minor offenses and subjected to conditions leading to further trauma and confinement. One image from Annie Gurlle shows a young woman with bloodshot eyes huddled in a dark cell, looking towards light from a doorway, her expression conveying terror. Another depicts the same girl peering through a steel door slit, tears in her eyes. Peter Collins’ friend Dug recalled a powerful portrait of Smith drawn by Peter that was displayed in their shared living space, only to be removed by guards and never returned.
Life Outside, Impact Inside
Peter Collins and Giselle Dias first connected in 1995 through the Prison Arts Foundation. Their relationship evolved over years of letters and phone calls, providing mutual support and political dialogue, becoming like family. Dias recounted that Peter Collins struggled to grasp the extensive reach of his work. She and others made it a point to convey to Peter how deeply people were moved by his art. Peter Collins was particularly proud of his poster Pelican (2011).
Alt text: Peter Collins’ Pelican poster, a widely circulated image symbolizing prisoner solidarity and the fight against solitary confinement, particularly inspired by the Pelican Bay hunger strike.
This poster gained wide distribution across Canada and the United States through independent media and prison justice networks. Pelican was created in solidarity with prisoners at California’s Pelican Bay, a supermax prison where all inmates are held in solitary confinement in Special Housing Units. In 2011, Pelican Bay inmates initiated a massive sixty-day hunger strike, organized by four prisoner leaders and involving up to 30,000 inmates across California. The strikers issued the “Agreement to End Hostilities,” a call for unity across racial lines against the prison industrial complex, a system historically divided by race. As a white man incarcerated in Canada, Peter Collins’ Pelican embodied this call for unity and solidarity with the Pelican Bay strikers, transcending racial divides, prison walls, and national borders.
As a visual artist in Montreal, the author observed a growing interest in art about the prison industrial complex by those outside incarceration, yet artwork by current and former prisoners remained less visible. Art in circulation has transactional value—it is shared, exhibited, and discussed, fostering recognition and dialogue. The limited visibility of art from inside prisons devalues incarcerated individuals and their perspectives. The author reflects on the vast amount of art produced within prisons, its destinations, and how to access, remember, and share this creative labor. Kristin Li from Montreal’s Prisoner Correspondence Project (PCP) noted that PCP receives numerous artworks weekly from incarcerated queer and trans individuals in Canada and the US, used for promotion, newsletters, and exhibitions. PCP diligently archives all received art. The author emphasizes the need for more initiatives like PCP, urging those on the outside to support and amplify the unheard voices of the incarcerated and create spaces for their art.
Despite his incarceration and death, Peter Collins’ art circulated widely, contrasting with the neglect faced by many other incarcerated artists. According to Robert Collins and Ruzsa, Peter Collins achieved significant success as an artist and activist. His work was utilized by numerous community and protest groups, and he contributed policy papers to prisoner rights organizations. A pinnacle of recognition was the 2008 Canadian Award for Action from the Canadian HIV/AIDS Legal Network and Human Rights Watch.
Although briefly a CSC-appointed peer counselor, Peter Collins’ artistic endeavors were constantly scrutinized by the CSC. His critical messages about the prison system were conveyed to the Parole Board of Canada, impacting his parole prospects. Robert Collins and Ruzsa stated that the CSC even established censorship boards specifically to suppress Peter Collins’ art, using his artwork against him at parole hearings as evidence of challenging authority, when he was in fact challenging corruption and inhumanity.
Despite multiple parole hearings, Peter Collins, sentenced to life, was never granted parole, a possibility typically available after 15-25 years.
Alt text: Another excerpt from Peter Collins’ Annie Gurlle graphic novel, portraying the harsh realities of prison life and the emotional toll of incarceration, advocating for prison reform through art.
Robert Collins noted that Peter Collins’ art made him more vulnerable to punitive measures: while other prisoners respected his integrity, guards and the CSC viewed him as a troublemaker.
Peter Collins died of late-stage cancer at 53 in 2015, after 32 years in Bath Institution. Despite his terminal illness, multiple requests for parole and compassionate release were denied, perceived by friends and family as retaliation for his art and activism. His brother Chris Collins documented CSC’s neglect of Peter’s health in his blog Cow’s Tongue, detailing lost blood work, inadequate hospital transport, denied pain medication, and delayed cancer treatment.
A World of Care
Dias recalls Peter Collins’ deep desire to be a better person, acknowledging the harm he caused and feeling obligated to both Utman’s family and his own to strive for redemption. He felt a profound need to speak out against injustice, despite knowing his politicized art would lead to CSC harassment and hinder his chances for parole, healthcare, and compassionate release.
A longtime friend inside, Marty, jokingly called Peter Collins “Dr. Dolittle” due to his love for animals. On the Peter Collins Support Committee Facebook page, a friend named James recounted Peter Collins repurposing window mosquito screens into shelters for injured birds.
Alt text: Peter Collins’ artwork Sparrow by Window, depicting a small bird within the confines of a prison window, symbolizing resilience and the presence of nature even in restrictive environments.
These shelters, though harmless, were quickly destroyed by CSC. Peter Collins then found ways to shelter birds on ledges and above doorways, eventually entrusting bird care to other prisoners to avoid further repercussions for his “anti-authoritarian” actions. Since his death, other prisoners have continued caring for birds.
This spirit of care permeated Peter Collins’ life and work. Dias reflects on finding solace in his compassionate worldview: Peter Collins stood firmly for his beliefs, demanding accountability, integrity, and kindness from himself and others. He aimed to inspire critical thinking and respect for all living beings, striving to make the world better each day.
As Peter Collins’ Montreal memorial concluded, attendees shared hugs and began to leave. Reflecting on the evening, the author biked through the city, contemplating who remains incarcerated and who gains freedom. The next day, the author shared the Fly in the Ointment video with her father, recalling past conversations about Peter Collins and the stark reality of life sentences. Her father’s response to the video highlighted its power in depicting escapism from isolation, showcasing the human brain’s capacity to adapt and survive even in bizarre circumstances, emphasizing the fundamental human need to endure.
Sheena Hoszko is a sculptor based in Montreal whose work explores materiality and power dynamics through geographic and architectural mappings.
