forms of violence

Location: OHIO STATE REFORMATORY / Mansfield, OH

OSR is a famous place for many reasons: The most obvious being a popular location for films such as The Shawshank Redemption. but, there in another side to its notoriety - one that spans the history books, and into the present. It’s one of pain and suffering; of violence and death... and it and it doesn’t end there.

The night we began setting up for the show, an ominous thunderstorm settled over the prison. For hours, an endless torrent of rain pounded the roof - a sound that was only drowned by the deafening thunder which rolled throughout the cell blocks and dark, empty hallways. the flashes of lightening that immediately followed created the most frightening tricks on the mind. this pattern of incessant rain and back-to-back thunder and lightening continued - impossibly, it seemed -  the entire night of each night we were there. it was only during a few brief moments of reprieve at dusk when I was able to properly explore the grounds and take a few pictures. 

Any available light was detrimental to my photos, for this prison had many black and lonely corners. one such place was Solitary Confinement: three of the darkest hallways you will ever see, each with only one almost-useless window on each floor.

Another room which swallowed daylight was the prison chapel. located on the top floor, adjacent to the West cell block, the chapel was considerable in its scale; yet even with the obvious height advantage and the larger windows, there were only a few moments throughout the day which afforded enough exposure for a photo.

The prison grounds had numerous secret places, only visible during these fleeting moments when the sun fought its way through the opaque sky and revealed them to those interested in finding them.

At over 100 years old, OSR is still a structure to behold - from the outside, it’s gorgeous. the stone masonry is a sublime cohesion of architectural genius and physical prowess. the front section of the facility is innocent-looking enough and housed the offices of the warden and the employees. but, upon closer inspection, the true nature of the behemoth is revealed in the oppressive bars on the windows - even on ones sealed from the inside. 

 

 Behind the facade are two enormous cell blocks. one of which, the East block, is the largest in the world - six stories of incarceration where over 150,00 inmates over time were stacked upon each other. 

 The unique layout of the prison - a wall of cloudy windows casting helpless light on the stretches of cells - creates a disquieting effect of shadows and shapes. my eyes were constantly adjusting to the surrounding contrasts caused by the single light source and the seemingly endless expanse of bars. 

There were bars on every entrance. in every exit. there were bars on the door to the library, the chapel and even bars from floor to ceiling along the walkway to the cells. i imagined being in one of those small, dank cells, looking out of my cage door - through bars along the catwalk, then through the third layer of iron along the windows - desperately attempting a glimpse of the outside world.... it would be enough to drive a man incredibly mad - which it did.

One memorable tale of an OSR inmate was that of Tomás, an already mentally disturbed man driven further down the path of despair. In the middle of the night, the men inside the West cell block would lie awake, listening to Tomás repeatedly bang his head against the firm iron bars of his cell - the hollow sound reverberating off the epic heights of the ceiling, and come crashing down upon the cold, hard prison floor. after quite some time, Tomás’ torment finally ended when he hung himself in the community shower - the pipe from which remains bent from his weight to this day. 

Another tragic case belonged to the poor soul in cell #13 in the East block. it was here, on the top bunk of this tight, double occupancy cell, where he secretly amassed a sizable quantity flammable liquid - one thimble full at a time. then, one night, as his bunkmate was likely fast asleep, he bathed in the fuel, struck a match, and incinerated himself.

Similar tales are abundant in most of the places we visit. they are used as anchor points for the show’s paranormal researchers to conduct their inquiries into the fate of the human soul. yet, even with this rich vein of human suffering, i find myself disappointed by researchers’ conduct. when i joined this crew, i imagined the goal of a paranormal investigator to be some grand soul-searching endeavor where the end result is either the answer to one of life’s burning questions, or to help those tortured in limbo. however, it appears the end game here is simple confirmation of the unknown, fueled by fear and adrenaline (and ratings), with no honest follow through. the team simply packs up after a night of stirring the agonized memories of a crumbling location, only to move on to the next one - leaving behind only the sound of their collective high-fives echoing through the empty halls.

i suppose this is what “the people” want in their television entertainment: fast-food style programming high in fear calories but low on nutritional value; where the audience can immediately shake off the last hour of horror, turn off the box, and snuggle in bed knowing everyone involved left safely. everyone except for those who have been there for decades, trapped in between two planes of existence we have yet to comprehend on any real level. but who wants to think about that?

 Now, unsure of the point of it all, i travel to our next location: an asylum and turn-of-the-century TB ward with a gruesome history and a body-count so high as to to make the angels weep.


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