In three prisons across Colombia, artist Benjamin M. Betsalel taught self-portrait workshops for detainees and created a series of “portraits vignettes” of 13 people (seven prisoners, five relatives and two portraits of a prison officer). Each portrait vignette includes a drawing or painting on 122 x 152 cm canvas, a short first person narrative, and an object of importance. This project was realized in collaboration with the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and exhibited in conjunction with an event commemorating the 100 year anniversary of the ICRC working inside prisons at the Museo National in Bogota, Colombia August 31, 2015. Whether inside or outside, the value of dignity prevails.
“María, inside since April 14, 2014”
charcoal and acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: Book Tools for Defending Women Against Violence
Inside and Outside of the Armed Conflict. Pages 79 to 87.
I am a mother, a head of family. For this reason, I’m interested in knowing about the rights of women and of victims. In a red zone you are caught in the middle: if you talk to one side, you are treated as an informant; if you talk to the other, you’re seen as a rebel. There was an attack and I was accused of giving information that led to the attack. I was arrested and have been inside ever since. My youngest son doesn’t even know I am here. When we talk on the phone I try to be strong, though I can hardly speak.
“César, inside since January 13, 2013”
acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: photograph of wedding ring
After constructing a career and a good reputation for 15 years, I committed an error that changed my life. Ever since I lost my liberty I have kept myself busy studying. Despite everything, it has been a profound learning experience at many levels. I have a wonderful family who have forgiven my mistake. I am so thankful for their support. It has been an important process for all of us, one that I try to carry with dignity. When I get out I would like to study rights and help people who are caught in the system. My eyes are open.
“Vivian, inside since February 19, 2015”
acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: pacifier
When I was young my mom wasn’t around and I was raised by my grandparents and uncle. When my grandpa died, I moved away. I heard a friend of mine had been locked up, so I went to visit him. We fell in love. I had a daughter and then I made the biggest mistake of my life: he convinced me to bring things into the prison for him, and I was caught.
Now my mom and her husband live nearby to take care of my baby girl. It is very hard because I can only see her once a month. I did not envision that my daughter’s childhood would be like this, like mine, without her mom and dad. It is ok though, I know her grandparents will give her lots of love, just as my grandparents did for me.
One thing I have learned is that we all make errors. I realize my daughter is also paying for my mistake. My situation affects many people. Confronting this has been hard, but this place can teach you a lot because you don’t have your family. Inside, one must learn to see life in another way.
“Juan, inside since April 20, 2013”
graphite and acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: diploma
I grew up working the land, but my story is one of chaos. Many years ago I spent time in prison. It was extremely frustrating. My daughter’s 15th birthday was eight days after I was arrested. My wife left me. When someone goes to prison, everyone in the family suffers. It is a double sentence: one person is punished on the inside; their family is punished on the outside.
When I was released, I began to rebuild my life. I met a girl and remarried. Although things were going well, I wanted people to understand the reality of the conflict and how one is often forced to take sides. All of my family members have been displaced. Many have been killed. My brother is a desaparecido, and now I am back inside again.
My wife’s energy is what gives me hope. This, and my work as the human rights representative for my patio. Last week I received a diploma for my work. It makes me feel proud. I only finished the 5th grade, but life teaches you many things.
“Edwin, inside since June 28, 2014”
acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: hair clippers
For me, being in here is an especially bad situation because I am no longer around to help my family. I wish I could see them more often but I understand why they can’t visit. The most important is that they have something to eat.
I like studying, art, making things with my hands… I’m a barber, like my father and two of my siblings. Inside prison I cut hair every day except Sunday, when we receive visitors. My dream is to one day open a barbershop with my family—to have a place that is our own.
“Nicholas, prison guard since April 5, 2000 (inside)”
acrylic on canvas, 60 x 48 inches, 2015
object: key
To work inside a prison is to walk a difficult line. I have seen that with better communication, it can become a less violent environment. When detainees have the opportunity to study or work, they are likely to be calm and to grow as a person. This can change their physical and mental health. A lot of frustration comes from a sense of non-productivity and not being able to help their family on the outside.
