“In the Death Ward” © Darcy Padilla All Rights Reserved
Andy Levin was a contributing photographer at Life Magazine and is the founder and editorial director of 100 Eyes, an online photography magazine.
In an interview with Wayne Yang that appeared on Eight Diagram's on September 18, 2006, Levin explains the events surrounding Hurricane Katrina and his own arrest and subsequent incarceration.
"Eventually, I was forced to leave New Orleans because the conditions were deteriorating, drove to NYC with my dog, and then returned with a press pass just before Hurricane Rita re-flooded parts of the city. Two weeks later I was arrested for a for going into my neighbor’s house and was taken to Hunt State Penitentiary for a week. My picture appeared on the front page of the New York Times when I stood in handcuffs…"
What does this post have to do with Asia? Nothing much except that many Asians living in this region seem to narrowly view America as utopia. Nevertheless, the USA has its flaws and one of them is that there are too many people in prison. Even people such as photo industry good guy Levin can be locked up. It's my hope that Asian people will gain an understanding of how Americans ponder problems that perhaps they failed to realize existed beyond their shores.
Here Is Andy Levin's Article
For victims there is nothing theoretical about crime. The need for retribution is overwhelming and rightfully so. Two years ago, when the seemingly random murder of a film-maker in her own home sparked protests in normally complacent New Orleans, the signs held by victims of criminals were poignant as they were frightening.
But whatever ones perspective, whether it be victim, civil rights activist or cop, there is one shared idea—something needs to change. America has the largest prison population of any nation in history, with over two million people incarcerated.
Violent criminal behavior is increasing; there are entire neighborhoods in large cities and sections of smaller towns which are virtual pipelines from street to prison. Tens of thousands of children every year are born into dysfunctional families and will grow up on the street without parental authority. By the time these children are five their fate has been cast. By fifteen they will be out on the street selling drugs or mugging, by 21 they will be either dead or in prison.
Newspapers report the daily toll, the shootings, the rapes, the robberies; the most horrific crimes garner the most attention. But a harder story to tell is that of the people living in American ghettos, struggling against an increasingly powerful and deadly undertow.
In New Orleans, in LA, in Detroit, and in Trenton and all over the American abyss the gun rules the street. There is little fear, because life in jail, when your father has been imprisoned, and your uncle has as well, a life in prison is expected. And once incarcerated the penal system does nothing to rehabilitate, but only to secure, and once secure, to institutionalize the mentality, or perhaps mental illness of the criminal, as is seen in Jenn Ackerman’s powerful photos taken in Kentucky prison psychiatric unit.
When old age takes is inevitable toll, softening even the most hardened of men, what then? It's hard to look at Tim Gruber’s images of dying men in prison, without empathy, yet what of their victims, and their families and the age old inevitable question of retribution, punishment, and forgiveness?
What is seemingly clear is that elements of the American system–vigorous competition for money, the right to sell and bear arms, drugs free flowing through the borders and a seemingly insatiable appetite for them, are taking more of a toll on one part of society than the others. It is the poor who are most often likely to both criminal and victim, sometimes within one family; certainly within one housing complex in Detroit, or in one block in New Orleans 7th Ward. In New Orleans police and felons have been known to share the same house.
And they are more likely to be black or Latino, not because of genetics but because of a systemic and institutionalized abyss, an American abyss, into which those who are born into difficult circumstances are increasingly likely to fall.
Having spent a week as an inmate in the Louisiana State Penitentiary, when the criminal justice system fractured in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, I can state from first hand experience that the our prisons are largely filled with the severely uneducated and those unable to cope with the demands of modern society.
To be blunt, our prisons are largely filled with slow learners–people who might not be able to hold the most menial of custodial jobs. A few hours waiting for my release in a wing for violent offenders at Hunt Correctional Facility also taught me that many in prison belong there, and that prisons are inadequately equipped to deal with them, providing only the capacity to isolate them from the public.
Prisoner wardens like Louisiana’s Burl Cain, who runs Louisiana’s prisons from his office in Angola, consider this their mandate. Should it be otherwise? Given the nature of the crimes, probably not. Can security be the only concern? Allowing prisoners to victimize each other is unacceptable, yet in prisons all across the nation weaker inmates are attacked daily, allowing transmission of HIV which some experts believe is epidemic in the American prison population, where it's illegal to test for the disease without the permission of the prisoner. Since HIV positive status is a stigma within the jailed population, few prisoners are willing to be tested.
While high profile parole cases always receive front-page coverage, a few wardens in America will tell you that they are not incarcerating some prisoners who no longer are a threat to society; often they are prison “trustees” who have gained privileges from years of model behavior. These are men and women who have both been institutionalized and adapted to their prison life, forming a meaningful existence against very long odds.
They are the exceptions. For the most part, America’s long-term prisoners are emotionally and intellectually flat-lined, stripped of hope, left blank. At the prison rodeo in Angola, Louisiana, I saw them clinging to the wire fence that separated prisoners from spectators, often their own family members who had come not to see the bull-riding competition but for a look or a word with a loved one. For many of these men who have no hope of release, the future is in a prison hospice and an inmate made casket. The fortunate ones have family families that can afford to take their body out of the prison for burial elsewhere.
We as a society must protect ourselves from violent criminals, just as we must protect us from the Madoff’s and the corporate criminals. Nevertheless, I can only wonder if we need to spend precious resources on incarcerating men like Madoff, when stripping them of all of their wealth and essentially forcing them into a life of poverty mind serve as better punishment and deterrent for their behavior. For those less educated and with far less opportunity, their path to jail is also lined with money, or a lack of it.
Can our society allow access to weapons, when large parts of the population are increasingly likely to utilize the weapons in self-destructive and aggressive behavior? Do the rights of gun-owners trump the right of a society to live without fear of armed criminals? Or is it really the rights of gun manufacturers that are being protected in America?
Many would argue that the “right to bear arms” is an idea that has been promoted by those who most profit from the gun trade. Its become a rallying cry for conservatives, especially from southern states that ironically suffer the most from the institution of crime. Isn’t it the fear among their constituency that is fueling the political capital of those legislating for easy access to firearms?
The police are caught in the middle. Increasingly faced with criminals who are better armed than they are, and having to operate within the law, the police are incapable of doing anything but redlining the high crime areas, leaving those who live in the slums to fend for themselves.
With the gap between rich and poor growing, the privatization of education in the form of tax credits for families sending their children to private school, and a increasingly fatalistic attitude in American slums, the toll of the gun is not likely to abate anytime soon. The abyss widens and more and more Americans fall into it, victims and criminals alike.
The photographers who have contributed to America Behind Bars have worked against overwhelming odds to bring back powerful images of American prisons. One can’t simply walk into a camera with a prison. This kind of photography requires long negotiations and often a warden who has the vision and concern to allow a photographer into his jail.
As trustees of the state, each prisoner must consent to having his or her photograph taken. The photographers themselves must be protected from the most violent offenders, who are usually housed in cell-block apart from the general population in a prison. These cell-block lockups are the most visual but harder to photograph, as the prisoners are seen as threats to guards and visitors alike.
That these photographers were able to get access and create intimate work is remarkable, and I am proud to be able to share their work with you.
Andy Levin
End
So that's it folks. Please view the powerful photographs of Darcy Padilla, Jenn Ackermann, Tim Gruber, Jerome Brunet and Dominic Bracco at 100Eyes.org
John Brown Photojournalist On LIGHTSTALKERS
My Mondo Library Photography
Andy Levin was a contributing photographer at Life Magazine and is the founder and editorial director of 100 Eyes, an online photography magazine.
In an interview with Wayne Yang that appeared on Eight Diagram's on September 18, 2006, Levin explains the events surrounding Hurricane Katrina and his own arrest and subsequent incarceration.
"Eventually, I was forced to leave New Orleans because the conditions were deteriorating, drove to NYC with my dog, and then returned with a press pass just before Hurricane Rita re-flooded parts of the city. Two weeks later I was arrested for a for going into my neighbor’s house and was taken to Hunt State Penitentiary for a week. My picture appeared on the front page of the New York Times when I stood in handcuffs…"
What does this post have to do with Asia? Nothing much except that many Asians living in this region seem to narrowly view America as utopia. Nevertheless, the USA has its flaws and one of them is that there are too many people in prison. Even people such as photo industry good guy Levin can be locked up. It's my hope that Asian people will gain an understanding of how Americans ponder problems that perhaps they failed to realize existed beyond their shores.
Here Is Andy Levin's Article
For victims there is nothing theoretical about crime. The need for retribution is overwhelming and rightfully so. Two years ago, when the seemingly random murder of a film-maker in her own home sparked protests in normally complacent New Orleans, the signs held by victims of criminals were poignant as they were frightening.
But whatever ones perspective, whether it be victim, civil rights activist or cop, there is one shared idea—something needs to change. America has the largest prison population of any nation in history, with over two million people incarcerated.
Violent criminal behavior is increasing; there are entire neighborhoods in large cities and sections of smaller towns which are virtual pipelines from street to prison. Tens of thousands of children every year are born into dysfunctional families and will grow up on the street without parental authority. By the time these children are five their fate has been cast. By fifteen they will be out on the street selling drugs or mugging, by 21 they will be either dead or in prison.
Newspapers report the daily toll, the shootings, the rapes, the robberies; the most horrific crimes garner the most attention. But a harder story to tell is that of the people living in American ghettos, struggling against an increasingly powerful and deadly undertow.
In New Orleans, in LA, in Detroit, and in Trenton and all over the American abyss the gun rules the street. There is little fear, because life in jail, when your father has been imprisoned, and your uncle has as well, a life in prison is expected. And once incarcerated the penal system does nothing to rehabilitate, but only to secure, and once secure, to institutionalize the mentality, or perhaps mental illness of the criminal, as is seen in Jenn Ackerman’s powerful photos taken in Kentucky prison psychiatric unit.
When old age takes is inevitable toll, softening even the most hardened of men, what then? It's hard to look at Tim Gruber’s images of dying men in prison, without empathy, yet what of their victims, and their families and the age old inevitable question of retribution, punishment, and forgiveness?
What is seemingly clear is that elements of the American system–vigorous competition for money, the right to sell and bear arms, drugs free flowing through the borders and a seemingly insatiable appetite for them, are taking more of a toll on one part of society than the others. It is the poor who are most often likely to both criminal and victim, sometimes within one family; certainly within one housing complex in Detroit, or in one block in New Orleans 7th Ward. In New Orleans police and felons have been known to share the same house.
And they are more likely to be black or Latino, not because of genetics but because of a systemic and institutionalized abyss, an American abyss, into which those who are born into difficult circumstances are increasingly likely to fall.
Having spent a week as an inmate in the Louisiana State Penitentiary, when the criminal justice system fractured in New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, I can state from first hand experience that the our prisons are largely filled with the severely uneducated and those unable to cope with the demands of modern society.
To be blunt, our prisons are largely filled with slow learners–people who might not be able to hold the most menial of custodial jobs. A few hours waiting for my release in a wing for violent offenders at Hunt Correctional Facility also taught me that many in prison belong there, and that prisons are inadequately equipped to deal with them, providing only the capacity to isolate them from the public.
Prisoner wardens like Louisiana’s Burl Cain, who runs Louisiana’s prisons from his office in Angola, consider this their mandate. Should it be otherwise? Given the nature of the crimes, probably not. Can security be the only concern? Allowing prisoners to victimize each other is unacceptable, yet in prisons all across the nation weaker inmates are attacked daily, allowing transmission of HIV which some experts believe is epidemic in the American prison population, where it's illegal to test for the disease without the permission of the prisoner. Since HIV positive status is a stigma within the jailed population, few prisoners are willing to be tested.
While high profile parole cases always receive front-page coverage, a few wardens in America will tell you that they are not incarcerating some prisoners who no longer are a threat to society; often they are prison “trustees” who have gained privileges from years of model behavior. These are men and women who have both been institutionalized and adapted to their prison life, forming a meaningful existence against very long odds.
They are the exceptions. For the most part, America’s long-term prisoners are emotionally and intellectually flat-lined, stripped of hope, left blank. At the prison rodeo in Angola, Louisiana, I saw them clinging to the wire fence that separated prisoners from spectators, often their own family members who had come not to see the bull-riding competition but for a look or a word with a loved one. For many of these men who have no hope of release, the future is in a prison hospice and an inmate made casket. The fortunate ones have family families that can afford to take their body out of the prison for burial elsewhere.
We as a society must protect ourselves from violent criminals, just as we must protect us from the Madoff’s and the corporate criminals. Nevertheless, I can only wonder if we need to spend precious resources on incarcerating men like Madoff, when stripping them of all of their wealth and essentially forcing them into a life of poverty mind serve as better punishment and deterrent for their behavior. For those less educated and with far less opportunity, their path to jail is also lined with money, or a lack of it.
Can our society allow access to weapons, when large parts of the population are increasingly likely to utilize the weapons in self-destructive and aggressive behavior? Do the rights of gun-owners trump the right of a society to live without fear of armed criminals? Or is it really the rights of gun manufacturers that are being protected in America?
Many would argue that the “right to bear arms” is an idea that has been promoted by those who most profit from the gun trade. Its become a rallying cry for conservatives, especially from southern states that ironically suffer the most from the institution of crime. Isn’t it the fear among their constituency that is fueling the political capital of those legislating for easy access to firearms?
The police are caught in the middle. Increasingly faced with criminals who are better armed than they are, and having to operate within the law, the police are incapable of doing anything but redlining the high crime areas, leaving those who live in the slums to fend for themselves.
With the gap between rich and poor growing, the privatization of education in the form of tax credits for families sending their children to private school, and a increasingly fatalistic attitude in American slums, the toll of the gun is not likely to abate anytime soon. The abyss widens and more and more Americans fall into it, victims and criminals alike.
The photographers who have contributed to America Behind Bars have worked against overwhelming odds to bring back powerful images of American prisons. One can’t simply walk into a camera with a prison. This kind of photography requires long negotiations and often a warden who has the vision and concern to allow a photographer into his jail.
As trustees of the state, each prisoner must consent to having his or her photograph taken. The photographers themselves must be protected from the most violent offenders, who are usually housed in cell-block apart from the general population in a prison. These cell-block lockups are the most visual but harder to photograph, as the prisoners are seen as threats to guards and visitors alike.
That these photographers were able to get access and create intimate work is remarkable, and I am proud to be able to share their work with you.
Andy Levin
End
So that's it folks. Please view the powerful photographs of Darcy Padilla, Jenn Ackermann, Tim Gruber, Jerome Brunet and Dominic Bracco at 100Eyes.org
John Brown Photojournalist On LIGHTSTALKERS
My Mondo Library Photography
1 comment:
John, happy to share my experiences.....looking back on the anniversary of Katrina....
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