A blast from (my) past…

(Morning-After Bride.)

I received an email last week that jolted me back thirteen years.

The letter basically consisted of “remember the summer you spent documenting a prison for boys?”



(Inmate Processing.)

I’ve had a camera in my hand since the age of six, and in 1995, as a college student immersed in photojournalism, I was given incredible access to document the Polk Youth Institution.

The prison was an antique complete with bare stone walls and no air conditioning.   I shot black and white film, my beloved Kodak Tri-X that I miss dearly, and spent long evenings in the darkroom before returning to the prison the next day.



(Roberto during Lock-Down.)

I sold this story to a paper I wound up working for, The Independent Weekly, and they requested some of my photographs for their special issue celebrating 25 years of photography.

It was a humbling experience to dig through negatives I made in college.  Extremely humbling.   Photographs I was so excited about remain inside plastic negative sleeves, their prints long abandoned.



(“New Jack,” a new arrival.)

In recognition of my time travel to 1995, I thought I would include some of the images I made that year.

And, to The Independent, I will always love how you pushed me to become the photojournalist I am today.   I can never hear the word “independent” without thinking of you.



(Lunch Line.)






(Boiler Man.)

I can’t even get upset with you for running my photos this week under the name “Cadice.”

As always, I’m humbled.

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A blast from (my) past…

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