Essence of Innocence
Two hundred fancy art patrons in black wrap dresses and ties rubbed elbows with former convicts for an evening at P.S. 1. The opening of Taryn Simons photography exhibition, The Innocents, drew in an unlikely group to view her portraits of exonerated prisoners. As a high-art cynic, I expected the high-slung crowd to be wine-sipping pain voyeurs–hands clenched over hearts, wary eyes on Cartier tank watches. At best, I imagined, the opening would be trite; at worst, exploitative.
The large courtyard was filled with art-show attendees chatting, greeting and being served by an attentive fleet of bow-tied caterers carrying silver platters of wine, martinis, poblano quesadillas, roasted salmon on toast with caramelized shallots. Inside, a table was piled high with foreign cheese and exotic fruits, and spreads sat near the open bar. This was head and shoulders above the typical Chelsea and SoHo openings, where two magnums of white wine stingily poured into clear plastic cups by sulky gallery assistants constitute the refreshments menu. New York art openings tend to be pretentious yet entertaining social soirees for those in the "scene"; socializing, hobnobbing and free booze–not viewing art–are the reasons people attend.
The scene at P.S. 1 was different, with the "exonerates" and their families grouped in clumps on the periphery of the art-scene minglers. It was fairly easy to spot the former convicts in the crowd, not simply because they were some of the only attendees not wearing all black, but because I recognized their faces from the portraits inside. Over the last 11 years, the Innocence Project, founded in 1992 by attorney and professor Barry Scheck and civil rights lawyer Peter J. Neufeld, has been responsible for freeing 127 wrongly incarcerated individuals. Some of these men found out about the Innocence Project and contacted the group; Scheck and Neufeld found others by reviewing their court appeals. Twelve of the 127 exonerated were previously on death row.
The first-floor galleries housed Simons enormous color photographs, which are entrancing both for their technical expertise and composition. One shows a man with a rifle standing in what at first appears to be a field of fire-orange flowers. The bursts of color are actually empty rounds, and the field is the scene of the crime. This man served three and a half years for a rape he didnt commit. In the image, his eyes are distant, glazed and almost unbearably sad.
Another presents a man in a boggy swamp in front of close-standing trees, the branches of which appear to be holding hands. Simon was there when, for the first time, the recently freed man visited the site of a kidnapping, rape and murder for which he was convicted. Accompanying each portrait is a description of the court sentence, time served and crime.
Theres more at work than simple portraiture. To hear Innocence Project director Barry Scheck tell it, these men were victimized and condemned by photographs–mugshots that helped witnesses provide mistaken identifications. Simons portraits attempt to restore dignity and respect to these men. Maybe because Im immersed in the sometimes-surreal universe of fashion photography, I found that her work also restored some dignity and respect to the art of photography. When Simon spoke to the crowd, this willowy slip of a woman, dressed in simple black pants and a top, holding her elbows as she spoke, commanded the respect and admiration of the 27 subjects portrayed that night, some of whom spent more than two decades in prison. Her passion for the work was clear to everyone in the room.
After the speeches and requests for donations, I headed out with a full head. My initial speculation that the exhibition would be superficial and would fail to penetrate the issues at hand proved unwarranted: Simons photographic treatment of her subjects could open the coldest heart to emotion. The art scene in New York, so much in bed with fashion, is rarely based in reality, but rather in a void existing within and for itself. Abstract video projections, digitally manipulated photos and the like can be fascinating, beautiful escapes from reality, but Simon proves that art can still thrive as social critique.
"The Innocents" at P.S. 1, 22-25 Jackson Ave. (46th Ave.), Long Island City, 718-784-2084, through August 30.