Monday, February 20, 2006

Looking through walls = Monday, Feb. 20, 2006

















A photo gallery showcases Miguel Blanco's decade capturing hard, honest views of San Quentin

By Bob Sylva -- Bee Staff Writer

Miguel Blanco, whose "Images of San Quentin" exhibit is a rare peek inside one of California's most notorious prisons, reflects on his work.

Sacramento Bee/Michael A. Jones• See additional images

Years ago, when he was shooting photographs inside San Quentin Prison, Miguel Blanco happened upon the gas chamber, where prisoners were executed with a fatal fog of cyanide pellets in an acid pail.

Curious, Blanco poked his nose inside. "There were two chairs," he says. "So, I sat down in one of the chairs. The correctional officer then closed the door. And turned on a fan. I thought that's how they delivered the gas." He cringes at the hissing memory. "The guard was outside laughing. It scared the hell out of me, and I wanted to get the hell out of there!"

But not before snapping a picture.

"Images of San Quentin" is on exhibit at La Raza Galeria Posada through March 31. It contains 35 large images, most in black and white, of life behind bars, which Blanco studiously documented from 1983 to 1995. It offers a rare, candid peek inside one of California's most notorious penitentiaries.

This is the first time the work has ever been assembled and shown.

"It's a powerful and educational exhibit," says Stephanie Cornejo, interim director at La Raza Galeria Posada. "I think he really captured life there. You can see from the photographs that he gained the trust of the inmates."

In noting Blanco's stature in the Latino community, Cornejo says, "Miguel is such an amazing man. He has traveled everywhere and has so many stories. He is one of our elders. He deserves a solo exhibit like this. We need to honor him for what he has done."

Blanco, 72, is a retired photography instructor at California State University, Sacramento. He has indeed traveled widely and is no stranger to danger. In the early 1980s, he returned to his native El Salvador, and photographed the leftist guerrillas (FMLN) in their armed resistance against the country's military regime.

In the 1990s, he made several trips to the southern Mexican state of Chiapas and photographed the struggle of the Zapatistas.

Lately, in perhaps his bravest campaign, Blanco continues to battle the ravages of lung cancer. Thus, " Images of San Quentin" takes on the added import of a career retrospective. Not that Blanco is hanging up his cameras. He continues to make pictures.

In approaching this project, Blanco says, "I didn't read any books. I never watched any movies about prisons. I wanted to be as pure-minded as possible. I didn't want any biases influencing my work."

Including those of his subjects.

"I didn't want to know who they were, or what they did," he says of the inmates. "So, I never asked. I had no (narrative) design or vision. I was just doing work. I was just taking photographs."

On a winter afternoon, the light unseasonably benign and radiant, Miguel Blanco sits in a folding chair in the upstairs gallery at La Raza Galeria Posada, at 1421 R St.

He is wearing black nylon pants, a gray turtleneck, topped by a ski parka and ski gloves. He has on wraparound sunglasses to protect his eyes and a dapper black beret worn at an angle. The cap has two pins; one is the UFW eagle, the other an American flag.

Chemotherapy has left Blanco completely hairless, down to his eyelashes. His pace is slow, his gestures cautious. Still, he's in good spirits. He has a sly smile and regards an interviewer with an amused focus.

"He is really straightforward and honest," says Sharmon Goff, his longtime friend and colleague. Goff is program director of photography at CSUS. "He has no hidden agenda. But he can get a level of trust, as he did with the inmates at San Quentin. He was able to deal with a lot of things, including some element of risk."

The images in the show are indeed straightforward, even dispassionate. The almost mundane content of the photographs is indicated by their simple titles - "Tall Inmate," "Dining Hall," "Fingerprinting," "Guitar Player," "Inmate Being Escorted to Jail," "Inmate Being Searched," "Two Inmates in Front of West Block," and "Mopping The Block." None of the inmates is identified by name.

The photographs capture the daily routine and numbing boredom of prison life. Though there are some flickers of human dignity, nothing is romanticized here. He never allows his lens to be clouded by sentiment or sympathies.

The subjects are what they are - prisoners.

He launched the project mostly out of curiosity. And somehow persuaded then-San Quentin warden Dan Vasquez to give him surprising access. Blanco roamed the cellblocks, the gunwalks, the showers, the exercise yards. He was always careful. And always considerate. He never shot a photo without first asking an inmate's permission. It was the prudent thing to do.

"It's at least a glimpse of what it looks like in there," says Blanco of his work. "I had a relationship with the inmates. Most of them treated me with respect. A couple of them attached themselves to me. They would give me an escort. They would tell me where to go, what blocks to see."

He encountered old men, young men, gang members, one convict with a swastika tattoo, another whose chest was emblazoned with "Puerto Rican Power." One inmate, who has a white turban and silver beard, is sitting on the lower bunk of his crowded cell. In the background, one can see a chess piece (a bishop), a canister of baby powder and a carton of shrimp-flavored ramen.

Mostly, they are faces, staring out, behind bars.

Time passes. The gallery turns quiet. The mood is safe. Blanco reflects. As he recites the details of his life, he has a captive audience.

Blanco was born in San Salvador, El Salvador. His father was the chauffeur to the American ambassador, which was considered a prestigious job. When Blanco was 10, his family immigrated to San Francisco.

Blanco grew up in the Mission district. His father worked as a custodian at the Don Hotel on Taylor Street. Blanco used to help his father clean before going to school. He graduated from Mission High School, then earned a degree in history from San Francisco State. He taught school briefly in Oakland, then moved to Modesto and became a Spanish teacher.

Then, in the early 1960s, a funny thing happened. A relative gave him a used Topcon 35mm camera with three lenses. "I just started shooting," says Blanco. "I was really into the Chicano thing. I would shoot Cesar Chavez. Wherever he was, I went." Blanco documented the rise of the United Farm Workers union.

In the mid-1970s, though entirely self-taught, he was hired as a photography instructor in the design department at CSUS. He continued to photograph farm workers, political upheaval in Latin America, the plight of indigenous tribes in Mexico.

Today, Blanco still lives in Modesto. Three years ago, he remarried. His wife is Andrea Webster-Blanco, 55, whom he met while she was studying for an art degree as a returning student at CSUS.

Given the dire nature of his illness, Blanco is lucky to have survived. But one could say that about many of his escapes and exploits. Of this show, he says, "For me, the fact that I have put this whole thing together and it's hanging on a wall, well, it's a great achievement. I am very happy and very proud."

Blanco continues to shoot. These days you can see him stalking birds and wildlife in valley nature preserves. "Yeah, it's therapeutic," he says of the outdoors. "It makes me feel good. But it's challenging. Birds don't give you a break. You don't get a chance to (frame) a shot. They're there. Then they're gone."

He looks around the gallery. A slight smile creases his soft face. "See these guys," he says, in what is both an appreciation of freedom and an admonishment. "They don't move. They're not going anywhere."

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Images of San Quentin

WHAT: Photography by Miguel Blanco

WHERE: La Raza Galeria Posada 1421 R St.

WHEN: Through March 31

HOURS: 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday, 11 a.m.-6 p.m. Friday and Saturday

INFORMATION: (916) 446-5133

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About the writer:

The Bee's Bob Sylva can be reached at (916)321-1135 or bsylva@sacbee.com.

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"Ojos"

Miguel Blanco says of his photograph: "This inmate was in the Receiving Department waiting to be processed into the system."

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"Shower Portrait"

Says Blanco: "It took a long time to get the courage to ask someone in the showers if I could photograph them."

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Miguel Blanco's decision to photograph inmates at San Quentin rose mostly out of curiosity.

Sacramento Bee/Michael A. Jones
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