Two organisations and two prisons are actually leading their inmates on the path of re-integration Sew time for tattooed blokes
Cushions delicately embroidered with roses compete for attention with bedspreads covered in playful kittens. Not the loving work of a doting grandmother but of hardened prisoners.
Inmates in British prisons have taken up embroidery to pass time. Some even claim that stitching has helped chase away suicidal thoughts. Fine Cell Work organisation gives inmates lessons in needlecraft and sells their products.
One of the prisoners Richard likes nothing more than settling down in his cell with thread and needles donated by the organisation. "It gives you a purpose. And some pride," he said. The inmates were delighted when their handiwork was selected for an exhibition of embroidery opening in March at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
"Even tattooed `big blokes' are lost in concentration when they volunteer for this lesson", Richard said, adding, "They look tough enough but they do some beautiful stuff."
In a letter to the organisation, a man serving a life sentence recounted how he discovered the joys of embroidery when a fellow inmate who often helped him obtain cigarettes and tea pleaded for help. "He explained how he'd broken his glasses and needed to finish a pattern. Although I class myself as being butch and sewing feminine, I owed him, so I agreed. He showed me what I had to do, I made him promise not to tell anybody and I hid it in a cupboard.
About nine o'clock I started sewing. Before I knew they started unlocking us for breakfast, a whole night had gone with no thoughts of suicide."
Fine Cell Work was the brainchild of Anne Tree, who had the idea when she was a prison visitor in the sixties. The organisation's executive director Katy Emck said up to 3,000 inmates in 26 prisons have taken part in its courses since its launch some 12 years ago.
Many prisoners are locked for 17 hours a day and around half can't pass time reading because they are illiterate. So it is hardly surprising that the embroidery initiative "immediately took off", Emck said.
She recalled her first meeting with prisoners. "There were 30 men in the room and I asked, `who would like to do tapestry?' all hands went up. I was kind of amazed."
Some 80 per cent of the participants are men and each spends 20 hours a week embroidering. The inmates get a share of the profits from the sale of these items, although it amounts to no more than "a few pounds a week on average", Emck said that most argue that money is not their motivation.
"I would have undertaken it for free, because it gave me a feeling of making a positive contribution," explained one prisoner.
"Making something good can help them feel themselves not as criminals but as worthwhile people," Emck said. She said prisoners would not be allowed to take part "if they are considered a danger to themselves or others", but the courses are run on a voluntary basis.
Emck said participants behave well in prison. "(They) don't get into trouble, they are occupied, and they stop fighting." The teachers are equipped with a whistle to alert the guards if an emergency arises while giving lessons. But none have ever had to use it.
Cushions delicately embroidered with roses compete for attention with bedspreads covered in playful kittens. Not the loving work of a doting grandmother but of hardened prisoners.
Inmates in British prisons have taken up embroidery to pass time. Some even claim that stitching has helped chase away suicidal thoughts. Fine Cell Work organisation gives inmates lessons in needlecraft and sells their products.One of the prisoners Richard likes nothing more than settling down in his cell with thread and needles donated by the organisation. "It gives you a purpose. And some pride," he said. The inmates were delighted when their handiwork was selected for an exhibition of embroidery opening in March at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
"Even tattooed `big blokes' are lost in concentration when they volunteer for this lesson", Richard said, adding, "They look tough enough but they do some beautiful stuff."
About nine o'clock I started sewing. Before I knew they started unlocking us for breakfast, a whole night had gone with no thoughts of suicide."
Fine Cell Work was the brainchild of Anne Tree, who had the idea when she was a prison visitor in the sixties. The organisation's executive director Katy Emck said up to 3,000 inmates in 26 prisons have taken part in its courses since its launch some 12 years ago.
Many prisoners are locked for 17 hours a day and around half can't pass time reading because they are illiterate. So it is hardly surprising that the embroidery initiative "immediately took off", Emck said.
She recalled her first meeting with prisoners. "There were 30 men in the room and I asked, `who would like to do tapestry?' all hands went up. I was kind of amazed."
"I would have undertaken it for free, because it gave me a feeling of making a positive contribution," explained one prisoner.
"Making something good can help them feel themselves not as criminals but as worthwhile people," Emck said. She said prisoners would not be allowed to take part "if they are considered a danger to themselves or others", but the courses are run on a voluntary basis.Emck said participants behave well in prison. "(They) don't get into trouble, they are occupied, and they stop fighting." The teachers are equipped with a whistle to alert the guards if an emergency arises while giving lessons. But none have ever had to use it.
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