What advice would you give to a younger you? If you could give yourself a warning, or point a juvenile version of you in a particular direction, what would you say? Would it make a difference?
The question became painfully real to Trent Bell, an architectural photographer in Maine, when a longtime family friend was convicted of a crime and sentenced to over 30 years in prison. He wondered what his friend would have told himself if he had the opportunity. He also wondered what stories other inmates would want to tell their former selves.
These questions were the impetus for “Reflect: Convicts’ Letters to Their Younger Selves,” a photo project featuring portraits of prisoners of the Maine State Prison set on a backdrop of their own, handwritten notes to their adolescent versions.
The stark portraits of the inmates in prison-issued uniforms effectively reveal the consequences of advice not taken, of poor moral choices, and of poorer acquaintances made. The words penned are as honest and touching as they are haunting, and are spoken with a wisdom that only comes from lessons learned the hard way.
There are several reoccurring themes in the 12 individual portraits of the project – respecting oneself, standing up to peer pressure, listening to parents and others in authority, contentment with the simple things in life, to name a few. And, despite the melancholia that comes from knowing the eventual outcome for those depicted, there is a unique hopefulness that lessons can be learned in even the most dire of circumstances. As Jamie, one of the men portrayed in the program, says, “The mistakes we made in the past are the ones we will learn from.”
Perhaps the most poignant part of Bell’s photographs is the how human the subjects are. While several of the men, with rugged visages and unkempt hair, look like they could have come from a Hollywood casting call for inmates, their words make them instantly relatable to the audience. They speak of their own shortcomings, but it is hard for viewers not to put themselves in their places. “There were times when my son would look up and smile at me,” Bell says, “and the finality of my friend’s situation would rush into my head and I would hear a cold, thin voice say, ” … There, but for the grace of God, go I.”*
The recognition that both subject and audience are a couple of decisions away from reversing roles should serve as a sobering reminder of our shared sinful nature. And it is for this reason that Christ came – to offer grace and redemption to those incapable of obtaining it on their own. We ignore the universality of this message at our own peril.
As we approach Holy Week and the Passion, may we be ever mindful of a God who came to set the prisoners free – both those inside and outside of prison walls. And may the lessons learned in life be used to encourage one another as we see the Day approaching.
To see all 12 photographs in the “Reflect” project, click here.
*It is worth noting that the originator of this now common phrase, English church reformer John Bradford, was himself a prisoner, jailed for opposing the extreme policies of Queen Mary Tudor (“Bloody Mary”). It was stated as he watched fellow dissidents being led to their execution. Bradford himself would later be burned at the stake for his theological positions.