A woman who processes billing envelopes for a health system isn’t the most obvious person to spark an emotional reaction. But Emily Margolis, an accounting clerk for MJHS Health System, does exactly that. With a pen and a little spare time, she transforms bland white envelopes into tiny masterpieces—portraits, nature scenes, animals, patterns. Art that turns the transactional into something personal. Something beautiful.

Her envelope art is now being displayed in a local coffee shop, and people are touched not only by her talent, but by the gesture. The effort. The intentionality behind saying: “Here. I see you.”

It reminded me of the people who write to us at Adopt an Inmate. Their envelopes are often adorned with flowers, doves, cartoon bees, elaborate typography, even shading techniques done entirely in pen. We’ve received artwork so breathtaking it should be framed. But more than that, it’s deeply human.

Many people in prison have little to no access to art supplies. What they do have is time, and the will to reach out. Envelope art is often the first impression we get of someone writing to us. It’s a sign of care. Of presence. Of someone reaching through the system to say:

“I’m here. I’m more than this number.”

And yet in recent years, many prison mailrooms have banned this kind of expression, both outgoing and incoming. Envelope art, or even just a colored envelope, is labeled a security risk, and rejected. Many prisons require all mail to be scanned and delivered to the person’s tablet, or as black-and-white photocopies. In those cases, the art — made with limited resources — is reduced to grainy shadows. The heart behind it, nearly erased.

We understand the need for safety. But banning creativity isn’t about safety. It’s about control. And punishment.

Art is not contraband. It’s connection.

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If envelope art from an accounting clerk can make headlines and inspire a city, surely we can see the value in honoring that same spirit in people behind bars. Their art might never hang in a coffee shop. But it still deserves to be seen.

Let them draw. Let them be human. Let them reach us.