Behind bars | Juvenile In Justice, National Justice Museum, Nottingham

Juvenile In Justice, the new photography exhibition at Nottingham’s National Justice Museum, aims to offer a comparison between the justice systems of the US and the UK, inviting visitors to reflect on the lives of young people in prisons and detention centres.

The exhibition, which plays on the histories of justice in the two countries and the influence they have both had on each other, presents the work of California-based photographer Richard Ross alongside first-hand audio testimonials, a documentary and an engagement activity to prompt audiences to question what comes next, and how they can contribute to change.

Ross has spent the past 20 years visiting and documenting young people in prison across 35 US states and his photographs provide the foundation for the exhibition.

They depict a range of imagery including portraits, interior and exterior shots of detention centres and items of furniture and equipment found in them. Much of the interiors are stark and utilitarian cells with little comfort or warmth and walls etched in layers of graffiti.

The gallery showing the works is stripped back and feels clinical, which means that the focus is on the photographs themselves. This approach to displaying the images is almost enough to plunge visitors into an environment that reflects the prison cells that are being shown in the photographs.

A small number of Ross’s original portraits have been modified with colourful drawings and messages from young people incarcerated at the Swinfen Hall Prison and Youth Offender Institution in Staffordshire.

The bright text and patterns offer a subtle glimpse into the thoughts of the young people who had drawn them, their messages of hope perhaps the most humanising aspect of the exhibition.

In contrast, the unmodified portraits felt like they presented their subjects without a voice, faces turned away from the lens so that they are disconnected from the viewer.

Disturbing content

As might be expected, given the nature of the exhibition, several images include content that made for difficult viewing, most notably an image of a young person with scars from self-harming.

A sign at the entrance to the exhibition did note that some of the works included sensitive content, though it failed to provide specific details or to direct visitors where to seek further information so they could make informed choices on what they viewed.

In reference to the decorated portraits, there was also an activity station at which visitors could select from a range of scaled-down copies of Ross’s images to write their own messages of hope and leave them behind for future visitors.

This activity makes sense for the young people at Swinfen because they can directly relate to the experiences of their peers in the US, but I was unsure how many of the general public would be able to fully grasp the realities of those experiences.

No doubt the inclusion of the activity station was intended to be well-meaning, but there is a risk that it trivialises the lives of the young people.

Overall, I felt that more interpretation was needed to provide a better context to the work on display. There were only a handful of captions, an introductory text and a poem on the wall.

While there was a printed booklet available near the entrance that offered further reading, it primarily comprised a comparison between US and UK juvenile detention centres, a brief history of juvenile detention and a glossary.

The photos of the various pieces of prison furniture and equipment, in particular, needed more information.

While some were obviously chairs or beds used to restrain people, the purpose of other furniture, such as a long brown bench, was unclear. Without descriptions of how, when or why these objects might be used, it is left to the visitor’s imagination.

Sitting alongside a series of first-hand audio recordings was the documentary No Comprendo by Bukola Bakinson.

The film centres on Shane Lyon, a teenager from the UK who was convicted and imprisoned for 21 years for murder and wounding with intent under the Joint Enterprise Law. The sentence followed the fatal stabbing of 19-year-old Kamali Gabbidon-Lynck.

Legal jargon

This is a thought-provoking exhibition, particularly the segment that looks at the language used in the UK justice system. Much legal language can be complicated, academic and confusing.

And in certain instances, the legal system also makes use of uncommon expressions such as “post-haste”. This type of language can often be inaccessible and exclusionary and may end up being detrimental to someone receiving a fair trial.

To emphasise this point, The National Literacy Trust notes on its website that “in 2015, the OECD conducted its Survey of Adult Skills.

This survey found that one in six adults in England, and one in five adults in Northern Ireland have literacy levels at or below Level 1, which is considered to be ‘very poor literacy skills’.”

If someone cannot understand the questions or statements they are presented with in a trial, it sets them up to fail when the time comes to defend their case.

The core intention and subject matter of Juvenile In Justice is important in that it highlights how the lives of young people are altered through imprisonment.

The exhibition texts frequently reference a desire for visitors to question what they can do to make a change to these lives, but there needs to be better interpretation and signposting to resources or toolkits to help with this.

I felt that the exhibition needed a space that looks to the future and builds on the threads of hope left in messages by the young people at Swinfen.

The atmosphere of the exhibition felt stark and cold, and while the children and young adults at the heart of the images are brought into public view, they seem distant because the exhibition does not give them enough of a voice.

Niall Farrelly is assistant curator of exhibitions at Nottingham Contemporary