Old Santa Fe Jail

Tuesday March 16, 2010

Today did not start off well. It took two and a half hours before the class actually started. The teacher went around and looked at each student's work on their computers indvidually. He looked at mine for about 2 minutes. This I can handle, but not the amount of time it took for the class to get started. I went outside for a breather and found myself crying. I dislike this course and that compounded how much the time away from my babies has to be like gold to me- I felt snowed under. I can't handle loudmouthed students who take the floor and think they have a profound question to ask and start talking for ages about their “question”. Then the answer takes 15 minutes- when it seems like all this time we need to be looking at photos and critiquing them. I was really over it this morning. It was only a matter of time before I lost the plot but I am determined to get over the shit and serve out the sunshine.

We went to the shoot at the Old Santa Fe Prison. I think this helped me to get myself on a level again. It was an eye-opener. Rick is the caretaker who showed us around. His story is quite profound. I will try to relay his story to y'all. Rick used to be a prison guard there for 28 years. His eyes have a sadness, trauma, anger, diappointment, pride and dignity all at once.

Rick was there in the aftermath of the prison riot where 70 inmates died- the worst ever in the USA. The prison was set alight by the inmates and is now a condemned building. It has not been torn down because it would cost tens of millions to clear the site and no-one is willing to pay for it. In the meantime, it is used as a film set and for modelling shoots such as ours. It is so gritty, dirty, decrepid and full of despair. There are huge puddles of water everywhere and old furniture such as beds, chairs and desks that are only just intact. The old toiets and showers are still there. You could stay there for a week just getting into all the hidden spaces. As you walk around, you can't help but imagine who stayed there, what they thought and how they even survived. The despair was in the air around me even though we all walking around joking and exploring it like tourists.

Rick talked about the prisoners being mutilated and torn from limb to limb during the riots. He had to clean up body parts when his shift began after the riots. He said child molesters, child murderers and rapists were systematically killed in prison if they elected not to have protective custody. I had always thought that had been an exaggeration of life and death in prison but he said it is a given. The new prisoners are told they have 24 hours to live if they don't request protective custody. When he went on his rounds during the night, things were often thrown at him. The guards were unarmed because it was too dangerous to go into a dormitory room of 20 prisoners with a weapon in case they were set upon and the weapon taken. Rick simply had a CB radio attached to his shoulder to contact the other guards. His best defence was to earn and maintain the respect of the inmates.

Rick's story really affected me. His marriage ended in divorce after their son was killed. He said he and his wife could not stop blaming each other. I guess this is quite common in the cycle of grief. We were walking along the half mile corridor and he was telling me how he patrols the old prison at all times of the night and day at random. He even comes at 2am by himself to check on it. I said “You are either brave or fearless”. His response was that he no longer fears death. I commented that he must have had first hand experience of it after working here for so long. He was also a Vietnam veteran and said that that had been his first experience of death and killing people. I wonder if he has become immune to it. I look in his eyes and see a good human being who has been through more trauma than anyone should ever go through. After his work-based psych analysis for 14 months, he was told he was insane and should be institutionalised. The thing is I think he had been inadvertantly institutionalised because he spent all those years on the inside with that fear and anger and despair rubbing off on him. How can you avoid taking all that home with you at the end of the day? You can't just wash it off and carry on. But I guess you learn to get by somehow.

I also photographed four models- Frederick, Brandon (who I coincidentally had dinner with the other night) Asia and Ron. Frederick from Southern New Mexico works as an extra and model and plays harmonica in a band. He ws in the film “White Sands”. Brandon is one of Raul's photography students who has his own photograhy business now and models on the side. I photographed his wife Ariel and daughter Savannah on Sunday night.

Asia is 18 years old and has a scholarship (of $49,000) to study economics and German at University in Vermont, starting in September. She was great. I asked her if she had thought about going on America's Next Top Model. She said they had asked her to apply but she was too busy because she is going to Germany and then starting college. She pointed at her face and said, “I don't want to just use this. I want to study and have an education too.” She has her head screwed on and was totally modest about it. She knew she was pretty but was she was not willing to compromise her intelligence in the pursuit of beauty.

After the shoot, Toni drove Gail, Liz and me to dinner at Maria's. It is great New Mexican food. I had the mixed plate and a margarita. Now I am trying to write a blog with tired eyes. I have not even started working on my images from today. I have to choose ten favourites out of 800 odd. I will attempt to upload some onto my flickr site tonight.
Over and out.