The Best Picture I Never Took

First haircut

In 1989, I did a story on a prison boot camp called Monterey Shock Incarceration Correctional Facility. It was in rural New York State, way at the end of a dirt road. There were no bars, no walls or guard towers, and no visible guns. The program was for young non-violent offenders and, if completed, reduced their sentence from three to nine years to just six months.

It was run like a military facility and the guards were called drill instructors. I spent a total of five days there over a two month period and was able to photograph the entire program with groups of different inmates, from arriving in shackles to graduation day with inmates in jacket and ties. The New York Department of Corrections gave me total access. I was there from 5:00AM to 10:00PM and I could shoot anything I wanted and talk to anyone, anytime. That freedom led me to the best picture I never took.

One morning after calisthenics and breakfast I was passing through the dorm area and went near a bathroom. I looked in and there was a line of toilets, most occupied. No walls between them, no stalls, no privacy whatsoever. Other people, guards and inmates were walking through, so I did too. There was beautiful soft morning light coming in windows opposite and the line of white porcelain, shiny pipes up the wall, gray cinderblock, and a range of skin tones made for an extraordinary image.

I actually brought one of my Nikons with a wide angle lens up to my eye and looked for a moment before lowering it. It was a great picture, no doubt about it. But it seemed unfair to take it. Is there any time when we feel more vulnerable and defenseless than when we’re sitting on the toilet? I don’t think so. I couldn’t bring myself to take advantage of those young men’s vulnerability, no matter how good a picture it was.

I don’t regret not taking that photograph. But I often think about “the one that got away.”

The following are a few of the pictures from that story.

Waiting in line

Dawn reveille

Running to dawn physical training

 

 

 

 

48 men shower in 3 minutes

Superintendent Ron Mosicki

Morning PT

Parole hearing

Graduation day

Doing what's right vs doing what is your right

My project, Day & Night has suddenly been receiving a lot of attention. It's a little weird for a project I shot most of four years ago, but I'm not complaining. It started when the site, Lens Culture featured my project, American Flea, in the spotlight position on their home page. This drove people to my profile page where they found several of my projects, including Day & Night. Within days, excerpts from Day & Night appeared in dozens of widely viewed web sites and blogs like Beautiful Decay, Dark Silence in Suburbia, Design Taxi, and sites around the world in countries like France, Portugal, Greece, England, Spain, Russia, and South Africa.

After Huffington Post did a story on it last week, I got an urgent email from one of the people in the photographs. This person told me that they had radically changed their life since I had shot their portrait, they had found Jesus, and they were terrified that if the wrong eyes saw the picture they would lose their job and it would ruin their life. They asked if I could please get their portrait taken off the Huff Post site.

What was I to do? Whenever I shoot people for Day & Night, they must sign a model release before I take out the camera. Besides signing the release, I emphasize that my intention is for mainstream publication, not some shady little web site that hardly anyone will see. I could not have been clearer. I wanted everyone who participated to be completely comfortable with the process and results. They were, after all, opening up the most intimate details of their lives to me and to public scrutiny. And I'm grateful to them for the trust they show me. I want the pictures to be honest and direct, but respectful. I believe they are.

So- I have every right, legal and otherwise, to include this person's picture when the project is reproduced.

But. . .

What is my human responsibility? How can I, in good conscience allow the possibility of my photograph having a major negative impact on someone's life? How can I say, I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to change your mind, especially if it inconveniences me? And, would Huffington Post even care if I asked them to remove the picture in question?

As it turns out, Huff Post was willing to remove the picture. (Thank you, Katherine Brooks.) And I removed the picture from the Day & Night section of my Lens Culture profile that Huff Post linked to. I told the concerned individual that I would not include their picture in submissions to any mainstream web sites or publications based in the US in the future. I would not include their picture in any exhibitions in their home city. I also made it clear that the picture is already available in many many web sites and blogs around the world and I have no control over who sees them or re-blogs them. This person needs to be prepared and there's really nothing I can do about it at this point.

I suppose this is a bit of a compromise. I haven't promised to do everything in my power to remove all traces of this person's photograph from Day & Night and its circulation. But I'll try to keep it out of places where it could conceivably do damage. And I'll sleep well tonight.

Thoughts?