One of the defining powers of photography is revelation.

Hold a mirror, a camera, up to ourselves, and we see who we are. Depending on where the lens is pointing, we can focus on the beautiful, the mundane, the troubling, the horrible, the sublime. Photography is always, sometimes loudly and sometimes with just a whisper, but without exception, social critique. Point at something beautiful and we rejoice. Point at something troubling and we feel a call to action. Something must be done.

A photographer’s thesis will always affect our understanding of community, and that understanding can bring out affirmation or change.

---

“A Poor Imitation of Death” by Ara Oshagan
Published by Daylight Books, 2024
Review by W. Scott Olsen

---

A Poor Imitation of Death: Youth in the California Prison System, points at something troubling. It is not a book about horrible prison conditions. It is not a book about violence. It is not a book about guilt or innocence. It is, instead, a book that looks at young prisoners and asks an oftentimes gut-wrenching question. Yes, they have been found guilty of crimes, but is the punishment simply that—punishment? These prisoners are young! Have they, the whole of their future lives, been thrown away?

A Poor Imitation of Death is, in terms of book arts, a beautiful book. Filled with black and white images taken within the prisons, yet elegantly designed, the book does not have the kind of grittiness or despair you might assume would be the aesthetic of a book about prisoners. This is not in the school of the Scared Straight movies. Nor is this project among those that show rust, blood, predation or psychosis. Instead, this book is sympathetic in both its design and approach.

I expected to be angry looking through this book. Instead, I found myself feeling sad. Here are young lives already presumed to be wasted.

Throughout the book, there are small sections of writing by the young prisoners themselves, diary entries, poems, or reflections. This is a step towards humanizing them. The book also has several small, translucent pages, only about half the width of a normal page. On these pages, quotes by the prisoners are printed. Likewise, there are a handful of fold-out pages. In both cases, the design is a way to lift their prose, their feelings, and aspirations to a higher level of empathy. The result is a sense of unfolding, a sense of discovery, a sense of poignancy and earnestness.

A Poor Imitation of Death has a foreword written by Father Gregory Boyle. Boyle is the founder of Homeboy Industries, the largest gang reentry program in the United States, and the author of three books. In it, he writes,

There is an idea that’s taken root in the world, and it is at the root of all that’s wrong with it. And that idea would be this: there just might be lives out there that matter less than other lives. A Poor Imitation of Death stands against that idea. With powerful photographs and poignant texts from the kids themselves, this book stands with the demonized so that the demonizing will stop. It stands with the “disposable” so that the day will come when we stop throwing kids away.

In his own short introduction, titled “I Am Human,” photographer Ara Oshagan writes about meeting Duc, a young man in the prison system. The essay is meant to build sympathy for Duk, to humanize him beyond the statistics of his crime. Oshagan says about Duk,

He thinks, I am human just like everyone else. I like to read. I like to write. I want people to love me for me. To sit down with me and just get to know me and talk to me. I’m not a lost cause…

The book begins with the setting: a section of images from the Los Angeles Central Juvenile Hall, then a section from the County Jails and California State Prisons in Avenal, Chowchilla, Ironwood, Lost Angeles, and Tehachapi. The images are frightening in their articulation of loneliness. A Poor Imitation of Death then features seven juveniles, all incarcerated for serious crimes, all first offenses. The images of the young men and women in the prison system are almost always solo portraits, candid as well as posed. The images are most often lonely and sad. The images with more than one person in them are more community-based than gang or violence-based, even though some of them are difficult to look at. The goal, to create empathy, is both clear and successful.

The book does not argue their innocence or guilt. Instead, it presents a visual and written argument about the ethos of the justice and criminal systems. The book concludes with an interview with a man named Peter, now older, who was featured earlier in the book. Peter was a poet and child musical prodigy who won awards but also committed a robbery and was found guilty of assault. He served his time and has become a responsible adult. The point here is not that the prison system did its job well. The point is that Peter was capable of becoming a successful person, filled with integrity and hope.

Once again, this book does not take up the issue of guilt or innocence. While the sentences may seem harsh for first offenses, that argument is not part of this book. What this book does, however, is ask the viewer to look at this situation. How can we make it more humane? How can we make it more successful? How can we make it better? These are images of young men and women who still have, and need, hope.

A note from FRAMES: Please let us know if you have an upcoming or recently published photography book.