There is a loud sound overhead in southwest London. Sebastian jumped to his feet and leaped into the courtyard. Cupping one hand over his eyes, he points the other towards a luxury Pullman train thundering past us at great speed. He said he heard the big wheels and the ground shake when he first came to the workshop. Sebastian was locked down for 23 and a half hours a day in his prison cell, with meals brought to his door, and no sense of movement.
Sebastian tells me that Fine Cell Work was a great help during that time. They did everything they could to get people work. Someone was looking out for us. Lady Anne Tree's idea of patronage through embroidered objects seemed quaint to some when she created Fine Cell Work. In their darkest hour, what could needlework do? How could stitching and sewing clear a path to recovery for them? The charity has shown how powerful a French knot can be. Since its first groups were set up in HMPs Cookham Wood, Maidstone and Wandsworth, FCW has taught intricate needlework to more than 8,000 prisoners and sent volunteers into 32 prisons across the UK with an aim to enable their apprentices to lead crime-free lives.
It’s very strange in prison. Everyone thinks it’s going to be terrible and scary but, in fact, it’s mostly very boring
Sebastian says that the first thing he made was a turkey. FCW was advertised on a poster at the long-term prison in which he had been moved to, and he was immediately interested. Kitchen work and recycling didn't seem to be as exciting as threading bright wool through a slender eye and making something beautiful.
Sebastian sips tea at FCW's London community hub, which provides work experience and employment training to ex-prisoners, with the aim of getting them back into work. Everyone thinks it will be terrible and frightening, but it is mostly boring. Nobody tells you what prison will look like. It really changed everything when I had that structure and something to do with my hands.
The word "pride" is often used when discussing FCW. Victoria Gillies, FCW's executive director, talked about the relationship between sewing and self-respect and how prisoners are paid to do it. Sebastian can see the transformational power of stitch on his face when he talks about sewing.
He is proudest of the penguins. In order to fulfill the 500 piece order, Sebastian and his fellow stitchers worked for six weeks. He didn't have anything to prepare him for the sense of accomplishment once they were done. He says the idea of a thing that you have accomplished gives you pride.
FCW's radical initiative lies in the relationship between what can be imagined and what can be done. It goes a long way to explain the impact it has on a prisoner's sense of well-being. Sebastian thinks that you can escape into your stitching. It helps you focus, it keeps you occupied, and it stops you from thinking.
When Covid-19 hit in 2020, additional restrictions inside prisons intensified feelings of disconnection and isolation at a time when scientists and doctors were trying to understand how it spread. Prisons had to adapt to the new reality. The prisoners were kept in their cells for at least 23 hours a day without access to any of the meaningful activities that had previously given them hope and purpose. It was very isolating and frightening to be locked down. They worked out a way to let half a landing out for half an hour, but you had to walk 2m apart.
FCW sent more than 2,000 products to prisons over the course of two weeks before the first lockdown. Stitchers were able to work in their cells thanks to 800 kits. Sebastian had been in the prison workshop for five days a week in the past. There were friends formed. ricate products were created FCW's output has ranged in size and scope, from high-profile artistic collaborations with the likes of CorneliaParker and Ai Weiwei to specialist museum commissions. Gillies says legacy projects remind everyone that they are a part of something bigger. There are cushions and table linens. Lady Anne Tree advocated for FCW to pay prisoners a small wage for their work in the late 1980s and these handicrafts are available for purchase via the charity's online shop.
The fact that FCW has operated mostly in male prisons has led to the fact that almost all of the stitchers are men. The charity will address this in the future
In the past, embroidery has been seen as a women's work. Sebastian is unsure if that is true. Fishermen have always made their smocks and nets. Sometimes someone in prison would come to the sewing workshop and take the mickey out of them. They didn't last very long. It was really hard work for them.
Reintegration, a complex word with any number of possible outcomes, datememe datememe datememe is a datememe. He says that you don't have to worry about being an "ex con" because everyone is in the same boat. The apprentices are in groups of five. A service where anyone can send in their needlework and have it turned into a cushion is also available.
The reoffending rate among the 70 former prisoners that FCW has worked with has been 2% compared to the national average of 42%. Gillies said you can see the change in people. They end up being overwhelmed by life when they come out of prison. The advantage of a place like this is that they feel safe and can begin to build confidence.
Sebastian likes sewing because it provides a social space and a sense of support.
He says that sometimes stitching can be difficult. When you do a whole block of needlepoint, you realize you did it in the wrong color. I did a cross stitch for my mother's 70th birthday, and she absolutely loves it, but I know that there is one point where the stitches are the wrong way around. I can see it all the time. The mistakes become part of the piece. It's unique. Sewing is about letting go of things you can't control, even if you're focused on getting it right. Sebastian agreed that it was absolutely true. There are a lot of mistakes in just about everything.
Finecellwork.co.uk has more information. There are changes to some names.
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