This is the second part of a two-part series on my visit to the offices of Fine Cell Work and to one of their quilting classes at Her Majesty’s Prison Wandsworth, a men’s prison just outside of London.
For security and privacy reasons, I was unable to take photographs of the prisoners or anything other than a few quilts. There were seven prisoners in the classroom that night and I spoke with each of them about what they have learned by making quilts. Respecting Fine Cell Work’s policy of not asking about the circumstances of their incarceration I only asked each prisoner whether he would be there much longer. Some had years ahead of them. One was to be freed in 18 days.
The prisoners work on their projects in their cells at night. They come to class with the small plastic bags in their hands that contain the needle, thread and fabric pieces that they have been working on for the past week. Teachers marvel at how the prisoners layout their blocks inside their cells. I am amazed at how well they sew with the limited light sources provided in the cells. They only have access to tools and help once a week during the class.
The class takes place in the Vulnerable Persons Unit, which is a unit that separates prisoners who might be vulnerable to abuse if placed in the general prison population. On the way to the unit, I asked what types of crimes the prisoners in this wing had committed and was told “sex crimes.” “Including those against children?” I asked as I thought about my own precious 5-year old daughter. “Yes.” I was told. I reminded myself that no one grows up hoping to become a pedaphile or drug addict.
Here are a few of their stories:
Paul is understandably concerned about his future. He is 50 years old and when I spoke with him was 18 days away from his release. Despite 18 years of service in the British army he is worried about finding employment upon his release. During the day he works in the prison’s tailoring shop and hopes to become a sewing machine repairman upon his release. He joined Fine Cell Work’s quilting class three and a half months ago and is proud of his green hourglass quilt. He showed me with pride the pillow cover that he made with the leftover blocks. “I like building it up from nothing,” he says.
Henry, one of the group’s newest members, is 56 years old. With two more years of his sentence left he finds that quilting enables him to “put his mind on something else useful.” Once released he hopes to make a quilt with all of his family’s initials embroidered on it. He says the money he hopes to earn from the sale of his quilt will be useful upon his release. As he proudly holds up his nine-patch block I notice his wedding ring and think about his wife or partner.
Damon says that he’s tired because he’s got three more days until his next blood transfusion. At 24, he’s a recovering drug addict who also suffers from Sickle Cell Anemia. “I’ve never felt as clean in my whole life as I have here,” he says of his time in prison. I realize that although he’s young enough to be my son, he has fought more demons in his young life than I can even imagine. His quilting “takes his mind off things.” During the day he cleans the visitors’ waiting room. In six weeks he will be released and he cannot figure out how he is going to rebuild his life. He makes less in a week at the prison than he did in an hour at the bar where he worked before he was incarcerated. Although he has only ever worked in bars, he knows that with his history of addiction he cannot return there. He enjoys quilting with bright colors and is particularly proud of the baby quilts he made with very small pieces in the shape of a large heart.
Philip became a Listener at the prison. Although a prisoner himself, he underwent special training to counsel other inmates who are coping with depression or having a difficult time adjusting to prison life. At any time of the day or night he might be called to any prisoner’s cell so he can listen in confidence to someone who might be contemplating suicide. He quilted for one year because it was “nice to be able to create something quite beautiful.” “It’s a self-esteem booster,” he says. ” I never imagined I could make something beautiful.” He says that he felt very cumbersome in the beginning “as though I was sewing with large gloves on my hands.” Eventually he became more adept with the needle. Upon his release, he hopes to continue quilting so he can “make gifts for all of my family and friends.”
[Postscript: I am part of a group of three women who hope in the next two years to start in Chicago a pilot quilting program at a transitional house for women who have just been released from prison. I continue to research other therapeutic craft programs around the world.]
