Gezicht op de Newgate Prison te Londen before 1889

Curator: Looking at this slightly eerie image, we see a monochrome cityscape capturing the Newgate Prison in London. It’s from before 1889, an anonymous work realized as drawing, print, and photograph, bound into a larger book. What's your first impression? Editor: An architectural nightmare, frankly! That oppressive geometry, those narrow barred windows… it’s devoid of life, yet teeming with potential narratives of confinement and punishment. It speaks of a period when carceral systems were not only physical structures, but statements about power, control, and the societal othering of the convicted. Curator: Yes, there's definitely a chill here. I keep thinking about the people within those walls and whether the lack of specific detail actually makes it even more impactful – we project onto it, perhaps? It's bleak, but somehow… honest. I get the sense that this isn't trying to romanticize anything. Editor: Honesty is interesting because this prison was notorious. Public executions, horrific conditions, disproportionately impacting the poor and marginalized. The print is interesting, but the real lives connected to the Newgate prison are harrowing. When we look at art like this, are we really seeing it in an "honest" way? What lens are we really looking through, here? Curator: That’s the rub, isn't it? It does give you pause – I find that ambiguity compelling. Acknowledging our role in making meaning from it. And thinking of the lives that were changed there… It definitely asks you to consider how art can serve memory. Editor: Memory is a constant re-negotiation. Images of prisons like Newgate need to provoke questions, forcing a reckoning with a past where justice was selectively applied and brutality was commonplace. We owe that to those who suffered there. Curator: It's interesting to think about art asking that. Asking us to ask that. Thanks. Editor: A collective reckoning starts with one careful look.