- Big Apple to the Big House, and Back: Overnight Bus Journeys to New York’s Upstate Prisons
- WELCOME TO THE “LORD’S” HOUSE: Robert Gumpert Inside the SHU at Pelican Bay Prison
- If You Are in San Francisco, On Monday, 2nd March, Fight the Proposed New Jail!
EVERY FRIDAY EVENING, IN NEW YORK CITY, WOMEN AND CHILDREN BOARD BUSES HEADED FOR UPSTATE PRISONS PHOTOGRAPHER JACOBIA DAHM RODE TOO AND DOCUMENTED, THROUGH THE NIGHT, THE DISTANCES FAMILIES WILL GO TO SEE THEIR INCARCERATED LOVED ONES _____________________ There are various ways to depict the family ties that are put under intense strain when a loved one is imprisoned. Photographers have focused on sibling love; artists have focused on family portraits, and documentarians have tracked the impact of mass incarceration across multiple generations. Often, the daily trials of family with loved ones inside are invisible, unphotographable, psychological and persistent—they are open ended and not really very easy to visualise. One of the many strengths of Jacobia Dahm’s project _IN TRANSIT: THE PRISON BUSES_ is that it very literally describes a time (every weekend), a duration (8 or 10 hour bus ride), a beginning and an end, and a purpose (to get inside a prison visiting room). _In Transit: The Prison Buses_ is a literal example of a photographer taking us there. Dahm took six weekend trips between February and May 2014. Dahm’s method is so simple it is surprising no other documentary photographer (I can think of) has told the same story this way. Dahm told me recently, that since the New York Times featured _In Transit: The Prison Buses_ in November 2014, the interest and gratitude has been non-stop. I echo those sentiments of appreciation. Dahm describes a poignant set of circumstances with utmost respect. It is not easy to travel great distances at relatively large cost repeatedly, but families do. As a result, they take care of the emotional health of their loved ones — who, don’t forget are _our_ prisoners — and society is a safer place because of it. “Honestly, I don’t know why they place them so far away,” says one of Dahm’s subjects in an accompanying short film. The women on these buses—and they are mostly women—are heroes. I wanted to ask Jacobia how she went about finding the story and photographing the project. Scroll down for our Q&A. PRISON PHOTOGRAPHY (PP): WHERE DID THE IDEA COME FROM? JACOBIA DAHM (JD): In the fall of 2013, I began studying Documentary Photography at the International Center of Photography in New York. When the time came to choose a long-term project, I realized I had been captivated for a long time by the criminal justice system here in the U.S., where I had lived for the past decade. Frequently the severity of the sentences did not seem to make any sense, and the verdicts seemed to lack compassion and an understanding of the structural disadvantages that poor people — who make up the majority of prisoners— face. In short, sentencing did not seem to take human nature into account. My sense of justice was disturbed by all of this. I was shaken when Trayvon Martin was killed and his killer walked free. Or when shortly after, Marissa Alexander, a woman who had just given birth, was given a 20-year sentence for sending a warning shot into the roof of the garage when cornered by her former abusive partner. Her sentence has since been reduced dramatically. But it’s complex: Where does a society’s urge to punish rather than help and rehabilitate come from? In both cases there was a loud public outcry. What’s remarkable is that there are frequent public outcries against the US justice system, because the system simply does not feel just. So I decided to do some work in this area. JD: But how do you even begin to photograph injustice? My original plan was to take on one of the most worrisome aspects of US criminal justice: I wanted to photograph the families of people who were incarcerated for life without parole for non-violent offenses. But New York State does not incarcerate in that category and, as I had classes to attend, travel to further locations would have meant trickier access and less time with the subjects. In conversation with one of my teachers Andrew Lichtenstein, who had done a good amount of work on prisons, he mentioned the weekend buses that take visitors to the prisons upstate. And once I had that image in my head — of a child on these buses that ride all night to the farthest points of New York State to see their incarcerated parent — I wanted to go and find that image. PP: HOW MUCH PREPARATION DID YOU NEED TO DO? OR DID YOU JUST TURN UP TO THE TERMINUS? JD: I researched the bus companies beforehand, some of them are not easy to find or call. And I had to find out which company went where. I also looked into the surroundings of each prison beforehand. I knew I would not be able to go into prison and knew most of them are in the middle of nowhere, so I had to make sure — especially since it was in the midst of freezing winter — that I would be within walking distance of some sort of town that had a cafe. The first time I went upstate, it was on a private minivan. I had just finished reading Adrian Nicole LeBlanc’s amazing non-fiction book, _Random Family_ that narrated life over a decade in the 1980s and 90s in the South Bronx. The characters in the book travel with a company called “Prison Gap” which is one of the oldest companies running visitor transportation in New York City, and so I felt they were the real deal and decided to use them on my first trip upstate. It was a freezing February night in 2014 and we gathered in a Citibank branch south of Columbus Circle for two hours before the minivans appeared. Many people came in to use the ATMs and some looked at us wonderingly, but no-one would have known that these people were about to visit prisons. What they would have seen is a mostly African-American crowd, mostly women, waiting for something. PP: I SEE ATTICA IN YOUR PHOTOS, DID YOU JUST PHOTO ONE ROUTE OR MANY? JD: The bus I ended up focusing on — because riding on the same bus would allow me to get to know passengers better — went to six different prisons in the Northwest of New York State: Groveland, Livingston, Attica, Wyoming, Albion and Orleans. Most buses and mini vans ride to a number of prisons, that way they always have a full bus because they serve a wider demographic. I wanted to be on a bus that went to Albion, the largest women’s prison in NY State, because my assumption was, that female prisoners get more visits from their children, simply because the bond is almost always the most crucial one. But I was wrong, because as it turns out, women have fewer visitors, and for a number of reasons: Women tend to act as the social glue and make sure visits happen. And so when they’re the ones who are incarcerated, not everyone around them takes over or can take over the same way. Some dads are absent and if the children are raised by the grandmother, that trip will be very difficult to make for an elderly person. PP: WHAT WERE THE REACTIONS OF THE FAMILIES TO YOUR PRESENCE, AND TO YOUR CAMERA? JD: The time I traveled upstate I was squeezed into the back of a white mini van, the only white person traveling up and the only one with a camera strapped around her neck. We drove all night and barely talked. It felt otherworldly thinking we are now driving to the Canadian border, but I forced myself to take at least a few pictures through the frozen window and of hands etc. Later the next morning we were moved to a larger bus and that bus was the one I rode on for the next five rides between February and May. JD: The first one or two times I took the trip, I did not take many pictures on the bus and I photographed the towns instead. I could quickly tell there was a sense of shame involved in having family in prison, and people where uncomfortable being photographed, which I understand. People had to get used to me first an understand what I was doing. So I did what you do when you are in that situation: I introduced myself to people, I took some pictures and brought them a print next time. Once they had seen me on the bus more than once they were starting to be intrigued. I also told them that I too was a parent and could not imagine having to bring my children on such a long and difficult journey, and that I was sorry this was the case for them. I think it was rare for many of these women to encounter any kind of compassion from others, and it might have helped them to open up to me. PP: YOU DESCRIBE THE JOURNEYS AS EMOTIONAL, TIRESOME, GRUELING. JD: You’re on the bus all night without getting much sleep. The expectations of the visits can be tense, because the mood of your entire relationship for the next week is depending on a few hours. But the journey has also been expensive and most likely exhausted all your funds for the week. During the visit you will be watched closely by the correctional officers, some of them might be rude to you. And if you bring your kids that aspect might be particularly difficult because you’re in no position to stand your ground. You worry and hope your kids sleep well because you want them to be in good shape for the visit. I knew a grandmother who slept on the floor so her grandson could get the sleep he needed. JD: Another one of the moms I knew was not allowed to bring her three kids to Attica because Attica only allows for three people to visit. The child that was left at home with a babysitter or family member was upset and that puts stress on the entire family. PP: WHY ARE NEW YORK STATE’S PRISON SO FAR UPSTATE? JD: New York has around 70 state prisons, and many of them are in rural, post-industrial or post-agricultural areas. You could not get to some of these towns with public transport if you wanted to. The prisons have been economic favors to depressed rural areas that have little else to offer in terms of jobs, but not factored in is how these favors tear families apart and further widen the distance between children and their incarcerated parents. PP: DO OTHER STATES HAVE SIMILAR GEOGRAPHIC DISTANCES BETWEEN COMMUNITIES AND PRISONS? JD: I am only beginning to understand what the system looks like in other states, but I believe people have to travel far in most states, as there seems to be no policy on the part of Departments of Corrections to place prisoners in proximity to their families. In California for example, most prisoners at the Pelican Bay State Prison come from Los Angeles, and that prison is a 12-hour ride away. In Washington D.C. it seems a large part of the prisoners are placed federally, rather than within state, so the distances can be even larger. And with distance come increased travel costs that poorer families have a very hard time covering with regularity. JD: Considering that family ties are crucial in maintaining mental health and key in helping the prisoners regain their footing when they are out, it is a cruel oversight not to place people closer to those that are part of the rehabilitation process. Statistics tell us that the majority or prisoners have minor children. PP: WHAT CAN PHOTOGRAPHY ACHIEVE IN THE FACE OF SUCH A MASSIVE PRISON SYSTEM? JD: I think at the very least pictures of an experience we know nothing about can create awareness, and at best it can move people to develop a compassion that can move them to act. I think a photograph can give you a sense of how something feels. Seeing is a sense of knowing, and it’s easy not to care if you don’t know. In the face of the U.S. incarceration system — a system that seems to be concealed from most people’s sight but at the same time permeates so many aspects of the American life and landscape—it feels particularly important to me that photography plays the role of a witness. PP: HOW DO YOU WANT YOUR IMAGES TO BE UNDERSTOOD? JD: I think my images highlight a difficult journey that many people know nothing about. The focus of the journey, and of my photographs, is on the people that connect the inside of a prison to the outside world: the families. It might be that by seeing how an entire family’s life is altered people seeing those images and beginning to understand something about how incarceration affects not just the person on the inside, they are maybe capable of a compassion they don’t usually afford for prisoners themselves. PP: HOW DO YOU WANT YOUR IMAGES TO BE USED? JD: It’s hard to say because I believe an artist’s intention has limits when it comes to how the work is used. I want people to put themselves in the families’ shoes. I want these images to help people begin to imagine what the secondary effects of incarceration are and how they could be softened. 10 million children in the US have experienced parental incarceration at some point in their lives, and that is not a good start in life for a very large number of the most vulnerable population. BIOGRAPHY _JACOBIA DAHM (born Frankfurt, Germany) is a documentary storyteller and portrait photographer based in New York and Berlin. She graduated from the International Center of Photography in 2014, where she was a Lisette Model Scholar and received the Rita K. Hillman Award for Excellence. Dahm’s photography and video has been recognized with awards from Rangefinder and the International Photography Awards. Her work has been published by Makeshift Magazine, The New York Times, Shift Book, AIAP and Prison Photography. Her key interest is documenting issues of social justice._ Filed under: Documentary Tagged: Attica, Columbus Circle, Jacobia Dahm, New York, NYDOC, prison bus, Ride The Bus
8 June 2012: Crescent City, CA. California State Prison: Pelican Bay Prison. Examples Of Kites (messages) Written By Prisoners. These Were Discovered Before They Were Smuggled Out. Too often since writing THIS POST, I have lamented the dearth of images of solitary confinement. We have suffered as a society from not seeing. A few years back a change began. Solitary confinement became an anchor issue to the prison reform and abolition movements. Thanks largely to activist and journalist inquiry we've seen more and more images of solitary confinement emerge. However, news outlets still relying on video animation to tell stories, which would indicate images remain scarce and at a premium. ROBERT GUMPERT has just updated his website with photographs of Pelican Bay State Prison. Some are from the Secure Housing Unit (SHU) that has been the center of years of controversy and the locus of 3 hunger strikes since the summer of 2011. Other photographs are from the general population areas of the supermaximum security facility. Click the "i" icon at the top right of Gumpert's gallery to see caption info, so that you can be sure which wing of this brutal facility is in each photograph. Despite seeing Gumpert regularly, I am still not aware of exactly how these images came about. I think Gumpert was on assignment but the publication didn't, in the end, pull the trigger. Their loss is our gain. Gumpert provides 33 images. It's a strange mix. I'd go as far to say stifled. Everything is eerily still under dank light. We encounter, at distance, a cuffed prisoner brought out for the camera. Gumpert's captions indicate interviews took place, but there are no prisoners' quotes. In a deprived environment it makes sense that Gumpert focuses on signs -- they point toward the operations and attitudes more than a portrait of officer or prisoner does, I think. The gallery opens with images from the SHU and then moves into the 'Transition Housing Unit' which is where prisoners who have signed up for the Step-Down Program are making their transition from assigned gang-status to return to the general population. Critics of the Step-Down Program say it is coercive and serves the prisons' need more than the prisoners. Note: It doesn't matter how the prisoner identifies -- if the prison authority has classed a prisoner as a gang member it is very difficult to shake the label. The Kafkaesque irreversibility of many CDCR assertions was what led to a growth in use of solitary in the California prisons. 8 June 2012: Crescent City, CA. California State Prison: Pelican Bay Prison. A SHU Cell Occupied By Two Prisoners. Cell Is About 8×10 With No Windows. Bunks Are Concrete With Mattress Roles. When Rolled Up The Bunk Serves At A Seat And Table.. Cones On The Wall Are Home Made Speakers Using Ear-phones For The TV Or Radio. Speakers Are Not Allowed. I've picked out three images from Gumpert's 33 that I think are instructive in different ways. While we may be amazed by the teeny writing of a prisoner in his kites (top) we should also be aware that these were shown to Gumpert to re-enforce the point that prisoners in solitary are incorrigible. The suggestion is that these words are a threat and we should be fearful. But we cannot know if we cannot read them fully. How good is your eyesight? Click the image to see it larger. As for the "speakers" made of earphones and cardboards cylinders! Can those really amplify sound in any meaning full way? And finally, to the image below. I thought the quotation marks in the church banner (below) were yet another case of poor prison signage grammar, but reading the caption and learning that the chapel caters for 47 faiths, makes "LORD'S" entirely applicable. Not a single lord but the widest, most ill-defined, catch-all version of a lord (higher presence/Yahweh/Gaia/Sheba/fog-spirit/Allah/fill-in-the-blank) in a prison that is all but god-forsaken. _SEE THE FULL GALLERY._ 8 June 2012: Crescent City, CA. California State Prison: Pelican Bay Prison. The Religion Room Serving 47 Different Faiths And Beliefs. Filed under: Documentary Tagged: Pelican Bay, Robert Gumpert, Secure Housing Unit, SHU, solitary
SAY NO TO A NEW JAIL IN SF The discussion about the long proposed San Francisco County Jail has taken many turns. It'd have been built by now without the opposition of many California groups fighting for social justice under the umbrella organisation CURB (Californian's United for Responsible Budget). On Monday, March 2nd from 6-8pm, Sheriff Mirkarimi and staff from the Department of Public Works will be hosting a public meeting on the environmental impact of the $278 million dollar jail plan at the Community Assessment and Service Center (CASC). The CASC at 564 6th Street in San Francisco -- it is just around the corner from San Francisco County Jail #3, at 850 Bryant. ALL INFO AND RSVP HERE. RALLY The protest rally begins in front of the jail at 850 Bryant on Monday, March 2nd at 5:30pm and moves to the Community Assessment and Service Center (CASC). “Come prepared to dance! We will be joined by the BLO (Brass Liberation Orchestra)” says organiser Lisa Marie Alatorre, of the San Francisco Coalition on Homelessness. “San Francisco needs real solutions to public safety, housing, jobs, education, mental health care, not more of the same failed policies that harm our community. Justice is won when we build a future of opportunity for everyone, not more jails.” Make banners and signs that reflect the environmental impacts that jail and incarceration has on your life and your community. ALL INFO AND RSVP HERE. CITY HALL MEETING Separately to the Sheriff's meeting, the Capitol Planning Committee is voting on the jail plan also on Monday! Anyone who can speak out against the jail should go to San Francisco City Hall from noon to 2pm Monday, March 2nd and voice their concerns. GET THE WORD OUT On FACEBOOK SHARE THE FLYER. _#NOMOREJAILS_ ALL INFO AND RSVP HERE. Filed under: Activist Art, Prison Non-Photography Tagged: Californians United for Responsible Budget, CURB, NoMoreJails, Protest, San Francisco, SF Conty Jail, Sheriff Mirkarimi