A surreal experience for my second assignment with The Guardian, covering San Quentin Prison.
I drove over the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge up north to my destination: San Quentin Prison. As I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my car, I couldn't help but pause and take in the view of The Bay and the beautiful mountains surrounding me.
San Quentin stands as the oldest prison in the US, opening in 1852—yes, 1852! It’s location in Marin County kind of blew my mind, considering all the wealth that surrounds the prison.
Before entering the gates, our bags were checked, and other photojournalists and media members gathered together, discussing nerdy camera gear stuff. "This way!" We walked into the gates, and the Mayor of Sacramento welcomed us to the prison. The Sacramento Mayor was appointed by the Governor of CA to oversee this shift in approach at San Quentin Prison.
As we walked into the yard, folks on death row were hollering at us from above their cellblock, yelling, "we want programming too" and "where are we going to go?". It was sensory overload. I had just been on the other side of the walls, and now I felt the energy of people getting their workouts in, playing basketball, handball, or even running in the run club they have.
The pace was quick. There was no real direction or restriction on where we could go in the yard. Maybe there was, but I couldn't really hear it since my mind was overwhelmed with visuals. Knowing that not everyone gets access like this into the prison, I had to take a moment and check in with myself. For me, it's important not to exploit more trauma or romanticize a space. So, I took a deep breath and asked myself, "why do I want to make these images?". That's when I remind myself of the assignment: the state investing in more programming at San Quentin Prison.
The way I experience a space is all at once. It's like I'm looking at a map. I see all the different routes I can take to one destination. So, once I simplify my focus, my visual senses start to slow down, and the moments reveal themselves. I feel that with every news assignment or client work, my focus remains the same—documenting moments and details that define themselves. That's when I find those in-between moments with my lens.
I met so many individuals in San Quentin Prison and had some incredible conversations, but everything felt rushed and onto the next. I pride myself on connecting with people, so it was hard to give folks my full attention when everyone wanted to share their story or explain why programs worked for them.
Our tour of the prison concluded, and the writer I was collaborating with had some time to reflect in the parking lot on what we had just experienced. From there, we went our separate ways—Sam back to LA, and I back over the Golden Gate Bridge to San Francisco, where my wife, Ashley and my dog Posey greeted me with open arms and a kiss. I'm reminded that the weight of freedom is light, but the responsibility of that freedom is heavy. The work I do and the moments I share with people are never taken for granted.
