Home and Studio Direct

The thought of finding hardened criminals bent industriously over their
embroidery, counting stitches and arguing over patchwork might seem
far-fetched, but, for many inmates serving time at Her Majesty’s Pleasure,
this unlikely scenario is not only a reality, but a highlight of their daily
prison life.

The Fine Cell Work enterprise was launched in 1991 by Lady Anne Tree, who died
earlier this year, as a way of allowing prisoners to earn money while
gaining new skills, hope and independence through needlework and embroidery.

Recognised by prison authorities, wardens and prisoners alike as a way of
improving confidence levels, channeling aggression and reducing stress, the
scheme now runs in 30 prisons, with 400 prisoners, 80 per cent of whom are
male, earning over £60,000 a year through their work creating appliqué,
tapestry and surface embroidery cushions; quilts; needlepoint rugs and
hangings; and tapestry seat covers for furniture.

As anyone who has ever attempted to sew on a button, fix a loose hem or stitch
up a rip – never mind embroider an entire cushion or quilt – will know:
sewing is hard work. It requires concentration, patience, composure and
dedication; it cannot be hurried and there is little room for error. So what
do a load of violence-inclined, beefy men get out of it?

“We are working with men that you wouldn’t think would be stitchers,” agrees
Elena Hall, Design Co-ordinator at Fine Cell Work, “some of them have
committed aggressive crimes, but then they pick up a needle and find a
calmness.”

Prisoners work for an average of 20 hours a week and report time and time
again that sewing “helps the hours to pass,” says Elena. That they can earn
money through their work (roughly a third of the final retail price) is
another important aspect, allowing them to build up a small nest egg for
when they get out, contribute to household bills or, most significantly,
keep up with family, with whom they might otherwise lose touch over a long
sentence.

“Because I had things to do, I was not in prison in my head,” says one
ex-inmate, “It all came from the sewing really. You can easily become part
of the prison system. But through the sewing I could afford to have a half
hour on the phone every evening and that got me out the mindset: ‘I’m in
prison.’”

While most inmates sign up to the scheme for the money, the real rewards of
sewing become apparent later. “We send in volunteers to run the class –
slightly older woman who have professional qualifications – and they bring
amazing things out of these prisoners,” says Elena. “There’s a really high
standard expected of them – some of them have never known that they’re
actually good at anything. What we really want them to learn while they are
in prison are transferrable skills such patience and perseverance,” which
can help them to rebuild their lives when they return to the outside world.

At Fine Cell Work, each cushion, rug or quilt sold is done so with the
prisoner’s name on it, helping to restore a sense of identity, independence
and dignity. “We ask people to write and thank the prisoners for all the
time they’ve spent on the item,” says Elena. “Those letters are incredibly
important for letting the prisoners know that there are people on the
outside, within the society from which they are technically excluded, that
care.”

Fine Cell Work prisoners make a significant contribution to the world of
interiors, carrying out bespoke work for international designers including
William Yeoward, John Stefanidis, Jasper Conran, Kit Kemp (Artistic Director
of the Firmdale Hotel Group) and Australian portrait photographer, Polly
Borland; or creating pieces for insitutions such as English Heritage, the
V&A, the National Gallery and the Tate Modern, to name a few.

The Fine Cell Work enterprise is funded 50 per cent by charitable donations
and 50 per cent by sale of products, though it hopes to grow the latter in
line with its goal of working with 1000 prisoners in the next five years. At
HMP Wandsworth, Fine Cell Work has just opened a studio, where it is
starting to introduce machine embroidery for specific projects. It will
start teaching upholstery in the future and is also working on a
qualification in soft furnishings, the idea being that prisoners can pursue
and earn a living from these disciplines more easily than embroidery on the
outside, should they choose.

For those interested in purchasing some of the prisoners’ work and lending
their support to this remarkable enterprise, it is worth popping along to
Fine Cell Work’s Christmas Emporium on Wednesday 10 November at the 20th
Century Theatre, 291 Westbourne Grove Notting Hill from 10am-6pm, where
cushions, throws, rugs and tapestry completed by Britain’s most disruptive
individuals will be available to buy. Just don’t forget to write and say
thank you if you do snap up something – it will mean a lot to someone,
especially one who’s spending Christmas in a cell.

Emily Jenkinson is interiors writer for furniture and interior design
website mydeco.com.

Kit Walter, 22 studying menswear design

I guess my room is quite grown-up for someone my age. I have posters like
every other student – but everything’s framed. Blu-Tack breaks my heart –
it’s just so tacky. Go to a charity shop, find an old frame and spray-paint
it – beautiful.

Also in frames are my vintage photographs – my favourite is a 1980s arty shot
of a girl on a bed in a Stars and Stripes thong. Very Terry Richardson. I
found it in a flea market in New York.

People get a bit squeamish about the dead fox hanging on my wall. And I’m a
vegetarian so it is a bit oooh. It was unclaimed from the lost property at a
club I used to work in.

My records are also part of the décor – some of the artwork is gorgeous. Some
are on display in my G-Plan room divider – £80 on eBay. The design is genius
but it’s not to everyone’s taste. People come in and say, “God, that
reminds me of my grandma’s house.” But I love it and it’ll last forever
– much better value than Ikea.

I find that collections of things can look more ordered – so there’s my 10
pairs of glasses in a row, my pile of vintage fabrics, my 1980s belt buckles
… I’m a complete hoarder – imagine what I’ll be like when I’m 40.

I’d describe my room as a treasure trove of organised clutter: everything is
archived on Excel spreadsheets. Why? Don’t know… I’m a Virgo, that’s my
excuse.

www.kitwalter.co.uk

Hayley Simpson, 19, studying journalism

My style is quite girlie – but a bit of a mixture of things I’ve found along
the way. I’ve got a lovely vintage changing screen with pin-up girls painted
on it – great for covering up a big blank wall – but then I’ve got a pair of
deer antlers on the wall. I probably spend more money on my room than the
average student would. The antlers – from a little vintage costume store
near where I work – were £50. My friends thought I was mad, and my Mum
wasn’t impressed, but it is important to have my room looking nice.

Besides, lots of things in my room were free or really cheap. The armchair was
my granny’s – it’s called a clam shell and it’s quite old. I remember it in
her house when I was growing up so it has sentimental value, too.

I’m not only into vintage stuff – Ikea is brilliant, as long as you don’t
overdo it. My bedside table is from there, and my lamp. Good lighting is so
important: even if my room’s a mess, change the lighting and suddenly it
looks soft and inviting. My friends laugh when I follow them around lighting
candles.

There is the classic student collage, yes – full of photos, little notes,
postcards, little poems and tickets from things I’ve been to. They’re quite
common – it starts small and ends up covering a whole wall. You can’t go out
and buy an artwork that size but it becomes your own art. Having all those
memories around you when you’re away from home is comforting – when you’re
slaving at your desk over an essay it keeps you going.

Pelayo Diaz, 24, studying fashion design and marketing

There is art everywhere in my room: little things that, for some people, would
be trash but which I see as meaningful. For example, I have a beautiful big
red plastic apple that I keep coins in – I bought it at an airport filled
with chocolates. Most people would have chucked it away when the chocolate
was finished but it’s a lovely thing. Then there’s the 3-D anatomical model
of a heart I found; it might sound strange, but having a heart on my wall
inspires me, somehow. Just like the huge collage I found on the street –
cut-outs of beautiful women from magazines, all glued on to a board. I’m gay
and so people wonder why I have all these sexy girls on display, but someone
spent hours creating it and it’s just beautiful. I like my room to be almost
like a little exhibition.

Then there’s my little Kate Moss shrine: a photo, magazine covers and candles.
It’s not a real shrine, of course, I’m not a stalker, but I’ve always loved
her “don’t give a damn” attitude. It’s inspiring.

When the objects around you have meaning, and they make you feel good, I like
to think that they can charge you with good energy when you’re sleeping.

www.katelovesme.net

Ella Parry, 21, studying fashion promotion

My room was a blank canvas when I moved in: bare white walls and laminate
flooring. We’re not meant to put anything up but living in such a clinical
space for two years would have been depressing.

The leopard print wallpaper by the door livens it up and I like having my
camera collection on the window sill. One of them used to be my Mum’s
holiday snaps camera, which I really like. It’s nice when people pick them
up to play with them.

One thing I detest is when people, usually boys, “decorate” their
rooms with beer cans or vodka bottles. The same goes for traffic cones. What
are they trying to say about themselves – that they’re reprobates?
Interesting to go out with? I don’t get it. It’s just unnecessary student
clutter.

When you move away from home to college your bedroom becomes communal as well
as personal as it’s where you entertain as well as where you sleep. It
reveals a great deal about your personality and aspects of your life that,
perhaps, ordinarily you wouldn’t reveal to someone you’d just met. People
have more of an opportunity to judge you when everything’s on display – the
books you read, the films you watch …

I’m pretty open but I also don’t have much furniture, which is why there’s so
much of my stuff on display.

It can speed up that process of intimacy. When someone comes over and sees
family photos on the walls, naturally they’ll probably ask about them. You
get to know people much more quickly living this way.