Fine Cell Work is an extraordinary organisation. Two years ago, my husband commissioned what has to be one of the most inspirational pieces of modern needlework I have seen - a cushion whose pattern is an extremely complicated, three-dimensional view of Parham's garden, designed and executed from a photograph on a postcard by the prisoner himself. People who visit us unfailingly notice it. I have corresponded with the creator of the cushion and told him that I believe it worthy of any of the many fine historic pieces we have on display to the public in the house. There is something about his piece that shines.

To discover or to encourage, quietly, the flame of artistic inspiration and, above all, to give somebody a reason to continue to live, has a value that no amount of money or resources can buy. The sheer practicality of it all - channelling energies into the production of something positive, is so simple. The process of mending self-esteem and producing emotional satisfaction from otherwise empty hours is not so simple, and reading the testimonies of many of those involved with the scheme demonstrates without doubt that the physical process of stitching and making is, in many cases, as therapeutic as hours of counselling.

The wife of an elderly man whose hobby is weaving tapestry told me in passing the other day that without it he would be desolate and adrift, at a time of great personal sadness, family illness and stress. Transfer his situation to the lives of people in prison, coping mentally and spiritually with the consequences of a troubled past, present and future, and Fine Cell Work's case is made.

Lady Emma Barnard Previous Letter Next Letter