In April of 1975, a communist guerrilla army know as the Khmer Rouge captured the Cambodian capital of Phnom Phen and established one of the most violent dictatorships in modern history. Led by a Marxist revolutionary named Pol Pot, the group immediately set about evacuating the country’s cities, and forcing everyone to work on collective farms. Central to this initiative, was a brutal system of incarceration and torture for anyone who resisted.

In Phnom Penh, a former secondary school was converted into an enormous prison known as Security Prison 21, or S-21 for short. There, an estimated 20,000 people were imprisoned until the regime’s downfall in 1979. It’s believed that over 18,000 of these prisoners were murdered, which is only a fraction of the 2 million total victims claimed by the Khmer Rouge.

Today, the S-21 Prison is also known as the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Visitors walk through the buildings and consider hundreds of black and white mugshots that line its walls. These images depict largely unidentified inmates against stark, concrete backdrops. They say little of what happened after their photos were taken, but provide some insight into who the prisoners were, and how they felt.

Matt Loughrey, a self-taught artist living in Ireland, is working to restore and colourise images from this former prison. He spoke to VICE about what he’s learned bringing these lost stories into the present.

VICE: Hey Matt, how did this project come about?
Matt Loughrey: Last year I got an inquiry from a person in Cambodia. I knew what the Khmer Rouge was, I knew about Pol Pot, but no one had contacted me about a project like this before. Originally the project was for three images: one was from when this guy was very young, one was a family picture, and the other one was his ID picture from S-21. That was my job, to restore all three. The more I looked into it and the more images I saw, I thought, well, this has to be done. This just has to be done. So that’s what got the ball rolling.

Why were these photographs taken?
As with all oppressive regimes throughout history, the Khmer Rouge documented everything. The Nazis documented everything in places like Belzec and Auschwitz. They documented, labelled, categorised, and built data. We have technology now to read faces and build data, but in the 70s, the obvious course of action was the camera.

Do you know much about what these individuals went through?
Yeah and it’s horrific. Actually in one or two of the images, you can see what the people photographed before them might have been subjected to as well—namely some of the handprints on the walls, and drag marks on the walls. It’s despicable. Anything and everything torture. There are records to go along with the photos, but the records are scant. What remains is the location, and the location speaks for itself. I only know specifically about what happened to one person, Bora. He was electrocuted and then set on fire.

Do you know what Bora’s life was like, prior to his capture?
He was a farmer, a simple farmer. A father, as well. His son contacted me. His family know what happened to him through research. There’s a lot of written references about things that took place on certain days, people who went to prison at certain times—you can get a good idea of what happened.

Do you know who the other people in these images are? What they were like?
Details are scant, but some of them have been identified by family members. Sorya was a handicraft worker from Phnom Penh. Veha was a market worker, also from Phnom Penh, aged 18 years at the time the photo was taken. Rachany was a farm worker and mother from Kandal. She was 21 years old at the time. Her daughter was raised by a sole grandparent, and she contacted me in 2019 with her mother’s image. All the people in the images I’ve worked on are non-descript, decent, ordinary people, no different to you or I.

Which photograph shocked you the most?
Christopher DeLance’s picture kind of struck a chord. He’s an American guy, and it struck a chord because his story was documented, and nearly 20,000 other people’s stories aren’t. They just become one story. But the American guy gets all the news.

How did Delance end up there?
He was a sailor in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was sailing off the coast, in the very same year that I was born, actually. Doing such a peaceful thing in a beautiful part of the world. He grew up in California, or lived in California, and he moved to Maui in the 70s. And I guess he was enjoying himself. He was seized off the coast, along with other people. Not long after that, he was killed. I think the American authorities got involved to no avail. Not so long ago, I think 2012, maybe, he was identified from some inmate portraits.

Was there an image that you felt really captured the essence of this event?
I think the one with the handprint on the wall is pretty terrific, in the truest sense of the word. But then, when someone doesn’t have a story to tell—when the opportunity for their story to be told is taken away from them and all we are left with is an image—you don’t just look at one image to tell the story. You have to look at dozens and dozens to try and build a picture in your head of what’s going on. I can tell that the children weren’t fully aware. Some of the women were exceptionally nervous. And some of the men, well, their images speak for themselves. You can just get a picture of fear, control, terror, and nameless faces.

What about the images of people smiling? What do you make of those?
Out of 100 images I looked at, the data showed that the women tended to have a smile on their face more so than the men. I think a lot of that has to do with nervousness. Also—and I’m making an educated guess—whoever was taking the photographs and who was present in the room might have spoken differently to the women than they did the men. I thought about this time and time again when I was working on them. We smile when we’re nervous. We smile when we have something to hide. One of the classic things is to try to be friendly with your captor. So a smile would seem natural. I’m sure it’s very easy for the oppressor to smile, because they have all the power. And when you see a smile, you may try to mirror it in order to become synchronised with your captor. To make yourself feel like you have some control.

What do you hope will come of this project?
I’m talking with the museum about making these photos accessible to everybody. Museums are receptive to this craft. They stand a far better chance at capturing the attention of people who would avail service. It’s just had a superb response from the people who asked for it to be done. Since then, several people come forward with their images to be restored. It’s a nice exercise for them.

Why do you think that is?
It’s somewhere between curiosity and empathy. And love, love is everything. Even if it’s a moment of terror, or a time of wickedness—which it is—if there’s evidence of a person you love there, you’ll want to see that.

Visit Matt Loughrey’s website or Instagram for more information on his services in colourisation and restoration.

Interview by Eliza Mcphail