• Shooting in a Prison


    The prison’s like no where I’ve been before. It just sounds different. It feels different, and even smells different. I can hear people behind the closed and presumably locked doors moving around doing things. I’m surprised by how these large doors refuse to block out the smallest noises, and then one person asks when did I get in?

    I cut a strange figure, being escorted while simultaneously directing the prison officer to take me places, I want it to look like I know where I’m going. I’m the demographic of a prisoner, although one who isn’t wearing the required clothing, and we stop when I fancy looking at this or that. But the air’s tight. None of this is normal.

    I’m travelling light. No assistant, only minimal lights, and I’m thankful because all of the doors and locks and keys on chains. I set up on the landing of one of the wings, and the guys that I’ve come to shoot are brought to meet me. I am here because they’re taking active steps to reduce conflict within the prison, and I don’t know whether it’s possible for me to powder their faces with makeup.


    We talk, and in the spaces I take their photograph.