In contrast to many other social sciences, criminology has largely resisted the notion that qualitative inquiry has autoethnographic dimensions and remained quiet on the subject of the emotional investment required of ethnographic fieldworkers studying stigmatized and/or vulnerable "others" in settings where differential indices of power, authority, vulnerability, and despair are felt more keenly than most. Emotion appears in criminology in discussions about public sentiments, populist punitiveness, and the emotional motivations behind offending but rarely features as a lens through which one might better understand the process of doing research. This article examines the state of the field, discusses the work of a small minority of ethnographers who acknowledge the emotional content of prison studies, and tells the story of a personal research encounter that changed the author's methodological and theoretical orientation. It argues that a more frank acknowledgment of the convergence of subject-object roles does not necessarily threaten the validity of social science, or at least, "it is a threat with a corresponding gain."

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This article considers the contribution that physical environment makes to the pains of imprisonment. Synthesizing concepts and theories from critical organization studies with those that have informed criminological studies of prison design and the lived experience of imprisonment, the article discusses the ways in which the architecture and aesthetics of penal environments might be better understood with reference to the restricted economies of space found in industrial and bureaucratic organizations. It is argued that a grasp of the limits historically placed on the subjective growth of individual workers (workspaces frequently being characterized as 'iron cages' or 'psychic prisons') can enhance our understanding of the physical and psychological confinement of those in custody. Moreover, critical organization studies can inform emerging debates about what future prisons should look like and alert us to the potential fallacy in assuming that 'modern' equates to 'better'. While clean, humane and safe environments are unquestionably desirable for both prisoners and prison staff, and considerations such as natural daylight, access to outside space and aesthetic stimuli are increasingly being incorporated into penal environments around the world, this article will critically interrogate the value of such initiatives arguing that they may, in fact, represent a new and potentially more insidious form of control that bring their own distinctive 'pains'.

This article develops the notion that institutional places and spaces are layered with meaning and that their architecture and design have a profound psychological and physiological influence on those who live and work within them. Mindful of the intrinsic link between 'beauty' and 'being just', the article explores the potential 'healing' or rehabilitative role of penal aesthetics. As many countries modernise their prison estates, replacing older facilities that are no longer fit-for-purpose with new, more 'efficient' establishments, this article discusses examples of international best (and less good) practice in penal and hospital settings. It reflects on what those who commission and design new prisons might learn from pioneering design initiatives in healthcare environments and asks whether the philosophies underpinning the 'architecture of hope' that Maggie's Cancer Care Centres exemplify could be incorporated into prisons of the future. The article was originally presented as a public lecture in the annual John V Barry memorial lecture series at the University of Melbourne on

For over a decade the media have been reporting in alarmist tones that 'crystal meth is coming' to the UK. Using clichéd discourse ('crazed', 'epidemic', 'horror', etc.) and visual images of deformed and disfigured faces, the meanings attached to the drug are clear: crystal meth creates dangerous 'others'. Yet an identifiable crystal meth problem has hitherto failed to materialise, and press reporting of the issue appears to constitute an exemplary case of what Stuart Hall has described as a double movement within ideological discourse: a movement towards propaganda and a movement towards myth. This article examines how the threat of 'ice', as it is commonly known, has been symbolically, aesthetically and textually constructed in the British media, and how this representation has created its own hyper-reality, influencing political debate, drug policy and public reaction. The analysis places particular emphasis on the importance of visual images as a sensory expression of cultural meaning, an aspect of media representation that has too often been theoretically and pragmatically neglected within mainstream criminology.