If shows like “Law and Order” have the effect of instilling faith in our country’s criminal justice system, “The Innocents” strips that faith away. For the 45 ex-cons whose pictures are featured in the exhibit, at Provisions Library, prejudice and investigational sloppiness have irreparably damaged—and in many cases ruined—their lives.
Provisions Library, an arts and social justice resource center in Dupont Circle, will be showing the exhibit until April 15. Filled with a wide array of books and resources, as well as a few small gallery spaces, Provisions is a place that is as quiet and friendly as it is inspiring. The fact that the exhibit is presented at a library gives the display an inviting, small-scale feel, with none of the austerity of the National Gallery. But the homely nature of the space contrasts sharply with the jarring exhibition itself.
Each portrait subject spent years in prison—some coming close to being executed—before being exonerated on DNA evidence. While violent crimes are typically discussed from the perspective of the victim, photographer Taryn Simon presents expressive images of other, overlooked victims: the scapegoats for these crimes.
Simon’s idea was to play on the idea of mug shots. Instead of taking photos used to portray guilt, hers emphasize her subject’s innocence. The close-up imagesshow every pore of the subjects’ face, beads of sweat and thin glosses of tears sometimes coating the subjects’ eyes. The stark simplicity of the photographs convey a wealth of emotion; the eyes of the men and women reveal them to be by turns proud, angry, thankful and lonely.
While the mood of the photographs varies, the one omnipresent feeling is that of shame. The exhibit raises profound questions about self-respect and the challenge of rebuilding a life that has been unjustly shattered. Simon’s in-your-face photographs force the viewer to see the personal effects of a flawed criminal justice system. I wondered, for example, whether, after spending years in prison on false charges, a person could ever feel truly free.
The photographs are accompanied by case profiles and by Taryn Simon’s interviews with her subjects, which tell the tale both of their arrests and of their attempts to reintegrate into society. Criminals released on parole receive assistence with employment, housing and counseling programs. Exonerated prisoners, however, are not given access to these programs and are thrown back into the world without regard for the fact that their lives have been stalled for years. The stigma of having been imprisoned makes for a high degree of social isolation, susceptibility to substance abuse and other problems.
One subject told Simon that he was paranoid about spitting on the sidewalk, thinking that his saliva could be scraped up and planted on a crime scene to be used against him. This sort of paranoia is common—and not unjustified—for the wrongfully imprisoned. Naturally, many of them never feel like they really have gotten their lives back.
The personal stories accompanying the photographs are heartbreaking and anger-inducing. One particularly striking story is that of Troy Webb, who served seven years of a 45-year sentence for rape, kidnapping and robbery. The victim of the crime was shown a photo array of potential rapists. She tentatively identified a photo of Webb as her rapist, but said that he looked much older than the perpetrator. Police later showed her a younger photo of Webb, and she acknowledged thatlooked more like her attacker. The photo was taken four years before the crime occurred, but Webb was jailed anyway. These and similar stories are likely to shock and disturb, but it is nevertheless inspiring that they are being told.
