Category: Covid-19

Not Giving Up

Author: | 16 Apr 2021

The pandemic has disrupted so many students’ plans and dreams. It has presented unprecedented challenges to people in prison who are studying to turn their lives around. Many Longford scholars have spent the last year studying online when they had imagined learning in a university lecture hall.

For psychology student and scholar Chris Leslie the pandemic became a matter of life or death. Here he tells his own story….

I wake up extremely groggy with a bad nightmare ‘hangover’. My bed is surrounded by nurses and doctors. I remember telling myself thank God I’m awake, I must have slept for ages. The doctors reassure me I’m OK but I know something isn’t right. I try to speak – nothing comes out. Finally, I manage to push out a few raspy words.

I’ve been in intensive care for 4 weeks.

I’d better explain how I got there.

One moment I was sitting in an almost empty (due to Covid) university library applying myself to my psychology degree, the next I’m stuck in my student flat having contracted the virus and trying to keep up with two weeks’ worth of bio- and social psychology reading. I’d borrowed the books from the library – a big moment in itself, as I’m ashamed to say it was the first time I’d taken books out. Considering I’m a second year student, very ashamed!

Anyway, I’d hoped the books would see me through my isolation. Little did I know.

Up until Day 3 I was reading and making well informed notes. I’d be fine in a few days, surely? By Day 5 the pain had become immense.  I’m unable to read or even get out of bed, but I’m still positive. I’ll be back to study soon. Day 12 and unfortunately my breathing has become harder and I’ve rung the doctors who send an ambulance. On the way to hospital I have a lovely conversation with the paramedics about my psychology degree and the age old question comes up, “Are you going to analyse us then?” The doctors say my oxygen is low but not to worry.  I go to sleep, I’m shattered.

When I wake up I ask for dinner, I’m starving and cheeky me is hoping for some Christmas treats. The nurse replies with a sad look in her eyes, her mask covering her mouth, “It’s January 17th”. What?? I assume she’s got it wrong. She tells me I’ve been in a coma but not to worry I’m fine. Coma? I’ve only been asleep one day what on earth is she talking about? I’m shocked, saddened and puzzled all in one emotion.

The nurse’s eyes well up and simultaneously I’m telling myself, “Smile Chris, this must be a mistake.”

I quickly realise I have no feelings in my legs. The medical staff tell me I’ve been ‘really poorly’, in intensive care for a month. I’ve lost so much muscle from the legs that I can’t walk. Never did I think covid would have this effect on me. Covid-19

Since the pandemic first struck last year, I’d often wondered how it would affect my studies. Never did I think it would play out like this. This after all was the year I was giving my studies 100% effort because, if I’m honest with myself, until this point I hadn’t given it my all. It felt cruel when, after my first submission of the 2020-21 academic year, I caught Covid-19 despite attending lectures online and me personally adhering to all social distancing measures, wearing a mask and gloves. And yet, it still got me.

Three weeks after waking up in hospital I attempt to log on to my university portal.  I couldn’t remember my password. Even worse I couldn’t remember my email. How can this be so? Covid-19. Brain fog.

My life pre-study is not one I’m proud of, however since studying I’m incredibly proud of myself. I tell myself, “Focus Chris you’ve got this. Covid 19, you will not win.”

More than one month since waking up to my own nightmare, I’m home now.  My mobility still isn’t great. Learning to walk again can be frustrating to say the least but I’m determined and I’ve realised that’s half the battle. One day it hit me, there’s no way I could go on studying so soon after almost dying. I’ve had to face up to reality. I have to get back to full fitness, then go back to uni.

I’m disappointed, sad that it feels like I’ve let down everybody who has supported me. Often in the past I’ve thought about quitting studies for good as I have already repeated year 1 and 2.  The prospect of repeating again is emotionally draining.

But, as I keep reminding myself, I must get better first then return to study.

So, at the time of writing this, with the full backing of everyone, I’ve decided to put my degree on pause. I’ll pick up again in September. I’m keeping myself focused by doing some flexible work on my social enterprise and I can honestly say I’m happy. I started my education journey in 2017 and I have had to work my behind off.

I’m incredibly fortunate to be alive, let alone study. I still have my mental faculties, my brain is intact (somewhat).

There’s no way a bug will stop me.

if I have any advice to somebody going back to education after a long absence, it’s that life happens. Things that you never expect to happen, happen! Your resilience is all you need to get through. Studying gave me a new perspective, a new outlook on life, something to be truly proud of. I may have a mountain to climb but I’m going to graduate and I will become a counselling psychologist one day. I will not give up, I can beat Covid.

 

 

A virtual internship: three months flew past

Author: | 30 Sep 2020

My time as an intern at the Criminal Justice Alliance by Jason Grant

It is a Friday afternoon on the last day of my internship with the Criminal Justice Alliance (CJA). I have just finished a Zoom call with Director Nina Champion and Sarah, a new recruit and member of an expert group who use their experience and expertise to inform the CJA’s work to create a fair and effective criminal justice system. I can honestly say that my knowledge, skills and experience have been put to good use over the past three months and I am glad to have made the connection through the Longford Trust.

To rewind a little…

It all started back in March 2020, when COVID-19 was making its way through Europe and all my freelance work as a public speaker and trainer was being postponed or cancelled. I was looking for an opportunity and heard about the three-month internship with the CJA – which, in case you aren’t familiar with their work, is a coalition of 160 organisations working together to create a fairer and more effective criminal justice system. I had met Nina at a criminal justice event a couple of years ago and decided I would put myself forward. To give you a bit of background about me, I am a former scholar, graduating in 2016 with a Criminology Masters from Glasgow University and am now a trustee with the Longford Trust. I felt well positioned to make the most of the opportunity.

Initially, I had some trepidation about starting an internship during a pandemic, with all work being done remotely. A week before full lockdown, I went to London to visit the office and have a conversation with Nina about what I would be doing. I left the meeting with a good sense of the organisation and felt that I would be in good hands.

How did I work – virtually?

From the first team meeting -via Microsoft Teams- I was made to feel very welcome, and I quickly became an integral member of the team. My usual working day would begin with a catch-up call with the team member I was working with to discuss the plan for the day. I would then spend the day conducting research and writing, interviewing people, reading through transcripts and writing up my thoughts and findings. It was a well-thought out plan and I felt supported from the start.

On Mondays, I worked with Jamie, the Communications and Engagement Officer, to help produce a briefing on what makes good criminal justice reporting. I interviewed journalists, academics and campaigners to explore how the media can cover criminal justice in a more sensitive and constructive way, and how it can improve public understanding of complex criminal justice issues. The briefing will be published ahead of the CJA Media Awards later this year.

On Wednesdays I worked with Amal, the Policy Officer, to help produce a report looking at whether restorative practice (which brings those harmed by crime or conflict and those responsible for the harm into communication to repair the harm and find a positive way forward) can disrupt what is often called the ‘school-to-prison pipeline’. In other words, whether this kind of communication can slow the depressing path from school exclusion to prison sentence.

It’s a complex subject. I did lots of reading to gain a full understanding of the issue, though I had some knowledge from previous work I’d done with The Forgiveness Project. I then found and interviewed restorative practitioners working all over the country in schools and people working in alternative education provision and youth offending settings. Everyone was very generous with their time. The report will form part of the CJA’s Responding Restoratively Series, following the first report, Responding Restoratively to COVID-19.

On Fridays, I worked with the CJA Director Nina to develop a proposal for a leadership programme for people who have personal experience of the justice system. The idea of the programme is to enable people with first-hand expertise to gain more influence in the criminal justice system and to progress into leadership positions. I was tasked with pulling together ideas, researching potential partners and speaking with inspiring ‘lived experience’ leaders from across the country. I even had to present my findings to members of the CJA’s Lived Experience Expert Group, who had been involved in CJA’s Change from Within report. They asked some tough questions for me to go away and consider!

Saving the best until last….

The highlight of my internship was a global virtual meeting with fantastic practitioners from across Africa, Europe, Oceania, South America, North America and the Caribbean, through a worldwide prison reform movement Incarceration Nations Network. I had the opportunity to meet a former participant of a leadership programme and her colleagues at Project Rebound, which supports people leaving prison to go to university. Being a trustee at the Longford Trust, and former Longford scholar, I was really interested to hear about all the support they offer to their students in California.

Some of my low points were due to technology. This included the recording of an interview becoming corrupt and unusable, I can still feel the sinking feeling. And my Wi-Fi dropping out midway through calls. I suspect I am not the only one who has experienced such mishaps during the pandemic!

All in all, I had a great and wide-ranging experience – the three months flew past. Like all good things, the internship has come to an end, but I look forward to future opportunities to help out and I’m glad the CJA has hired another Longford scholar to help with this year’s CJA Awards.

*

Postscript from the seaside:

A week later, the CJA team hopped on a train to visit me at the seaside, where I live. We walked along the pebbled beach in bright sunshine, eating fish and chips, getting to know each other better – face-to-face. It is quite surreal meeting people who you have only ever seen through a computer screen. Impressively we managed not to discuss work too much. I was very touched that the team came to visit me, and I wish the CJA and its members the best of luck for the future.

Life in Lockdown: Six Months On

Author: | 15 Sep 2020

                                                  

 

 

Life in Lockdown: Six Months On

Last Summer our scholar Shaun wrote a blog which struck a chord and shocked in equal measure. Describing a cycle of prison, release and homelessness, he told of being given a tent to sleep in after one prison sentence.

Here Shaun, who is studying a distance learning degree, writes about his experience of lockdown…

In early March I was ready to start a new life. I was moving out of supported accommodation and had high hopes of getting a job to support my studies. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way…

A week after I moved into my new home, my plans were scuppered by the national lockdown. To say it was a massive blow to me is an understatement. An avid gym goer – as much for my mental well being as the physical benefits -overnight I lost something fundamental to my recovery from a serious and chaotic drinking problem. I didn’t do much in life apart from study and go to the gym. And my world was pretty solitary after cutting off negative people to better my life and create a better future for myself. To compound my isolation part-time work opportunities had fallen away.

Here I was, alone, locked off from the world.  Would I be able to cope?

I found myself getting quite low. Things were looking grim.

My old life was haunting me. The new block of flats I’d moved to were filled with people who were ignoring government advice. I witnessed people walking around like zombies scoring, taking drugs and drinking in the communal areas. As a former addict, it offered dangerous temptation.

Lockdown delivered another major personal blow. Contact with my mother ceased just as I was rebuilding a relationship with her.

Even my face-to-face contact with my mentor – we meet here and there – had fallen victim to Covid-19. We spoke via telephone and email, but it wasn’t the same as meeting up and talking in person.

I felt helpless – locked in. Able only to leave the house for essential items and no gym, it wasn’t long before I fell into drinking again. Every time I went shopping, I’d substitute a food item for alcohol. This soon escalated into a serious drinking pattern.

Suffice to say, lockdown played havoc with my life. Old styles of behaviour were creeping back. I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into a sea of depression and bad decision making. I felt like giving up on my degree.  Now, once again, I was allowing alcohol to get a hold of me. I couldn’t stay there. It was a one-way road to self-destruction if I did.

All hope seemed lost. I had to do something.

I had sought to escape supported accommodation for a long time. Now, alone, with what seemed like the world falling apart around me, I begged to go back. At times I would randomly burst into tears, although I’d never let anybody see me cry. Men don’t cry right? At least that’s what I’ve been taught. I felt weak.

It was in mid-May that I received a glimmer of hope.

I had a move date, June 3rd.

Finally, I could see a way out of the mess I was in. I had come so far, now I’d gone back. I thought I was ready to live independently again, I was wrong. Perhaps had this whole Covid-19 thing not occurred, I may well have succeeded in my plan? Who knows? It’s impossible to say. Anyway, June 3rd rolled around, and I moved back into supported accommodation. It was a massive relief.

Fast forward two months and a lot has changed for the better. Slowly, the pandemic restrictions are being relaxed. I am back at the gym, hooray!  Life in lockdown has affected us all in some form or other. I am very grateful that the Longford Trust never gave up on me and that my mentor continued to reach out to me.

Getting paid work continues to be tough. Instead, I am volunteering a few days a week with a local charity, Emmaus, something I can do alongside my studies. In the long run, this will also close the gap on my CV help my chances with future work. And I enjoy working with the charity. I give what I can in terms of time, but I receive so much more. I am building new relationships and forming a kind of social life, determined to break away from life as a recluse.

By the time you read this, you’ll realise, life in lockdown for me has been one hell of a roller-coaster ride. I have found hope again.

I hope that one day, I will be ready to live alone again, fully independent and able to deal with whatever life throws at me. It’s important to remember that we are never alone, even if it seems that way. We mustn’t be afraid to ask for help no matter what is going on around us.

 

A writer & Longford scholar compare notes on how to make prisons places of reform

Author: | 28 Jul 2020

Going to prison wasn’t part of the plan. Neither for writer and filmmaker Chris Atkins nor for classics student and Longford scholar Nahshon.

Here they meet to discuss what they have learnt from their time inside…

Chris Atkins is a BAFTA nominated film maker who was sent to prison for tax fraud in 2016. I have also been to prison and had my studies interrupted. I was keen to meet Chris about his recent book A Bit of a Stretch: The Diaries of a Prisoner where he talks about his experiences living at Her Majesty’s Pleasure.  Due to the COVID-19 outbreak the interview took place on Zoom, something I was apprehensive about at first; it can be daunting enough building a rapport face-to-face, let alone in the virtual world. I shouldn’t have worried. A calm, probably brought on by our shared experiences, quickly set the tone.

Chris Atkins went into prison, as many others undoubtedly have, frightened, broken and despondent. Despite sharing those feelings with most newly sentenced prisoners, Chris Atkins was, for want of a better term, no ‘ordinary’ prisoner.

A public school, white, Oxford University educated film maker, Chris, like me, kept a diary to  process the flush of emotions that besieged him in the early stages of his sentence. A record he continued to keep in Wandsworth, his first prison.

 I, a young black student studying at a Russell Group University, also decided a diary would help me to make sense of my time behind bars. My diary was purely personal. I wrote about daily feelings and challenges. Chris, however, went further. With his background as a filmmaker he had a unique skill to bring good to an ostensibly glum state of affairs- the skill of storytelling.

It was not initially Chris’ intention to produce a dissection of the inadequacies of the UK prison system. However, early on in his sentence he began to understand just how broken the prison system was and how unconducive it is to rehabilitation.

The impact of relationships: inside and out

The focal point of the early part of our discussion was the relationships you form and maintain inside, and what effect this might have on rehabilitation.

In A Bit of a Stretch, I am struck by the times Chris received letters and his cellmate got none. I too experienced this. In fact, Chris and I both got lots of letters, which felt like symbols of true love from those we were separated from. A simple handwritten letter brings a loved one close. That said, it is quite normal for people in prison not to receive a letter in a week, even a month. A quick side note here, phone calls are extortionately priced, so some people experience long periods of silence from loved ones.

I recall one cellmate of mine expecting letters which never came. Chris and I both noted the sense of guilt we felt in these situations. At times, I would hide my letters for fear of inflicting jealousy on my fellow inmates. I need to be honest here though, staying in touch properly was by no means plain sailing for either of us. Visits were ridiculously hard to organise. For the first month or so of his sentence Chris couldn’t see his young son, despite providing all the required information.

It is often argued, and rightly so, that maintaining the relationships between friends and family on the outside is the key to rehabilitation. It is not in the government’s power to force prisoners’ families to write them letters. However, it seems perfectly reasonable to ask them not to place obstacles in the way of prisoners and their loved ones. I can tell you from what I saw, if people don’t have contact with their family and friends on the outside, there is a distinct risk they replace that need for contact with others on the inside who may not be a positive influence.  You see this with younger prisoners who can be vulnerable to older, more ‘seasoned’ prisoners.

As Chris discovered, the relationships you form in prison is a game changer. Take one cellmate, Martyn, who was one of the only reasons he was able to get through the first few months of his sentence, ‘the thin line between sanity and madness’ he called it. For those who stumble across to the latter side of the line there is scant support.

The art of listening in a ‘warehouse for the mentally ill’

Chris spent much of his sentence working as a Listener: these people were tasked with talking to seriously troubled prisoners who didn’t want to deal with officers. It often involved talking people out of suicide. Wandsworth prison, where Chris spent the first half of his sentence, was in his words: ‘a warehouse for the mentally ill’. Most of these troubled minds were ignored which could and has resulted in fatal consequences.

Take the tragic case of teenager Osvaldas Pagirys, for example. He was an 18-year-old who was arrested for stealing sweets. Despite being found with a noose on five separate occasions in prison he was largely ignored and killed himself.

Prisoners should not be babied but how can this be justice?

Time to be bold: rethinking education, work and beyond

For myself and writer Chris this is where education can offer a lifeline – not just in terms of personal happiness and safety but also as a means of staying on a generally positive track. Chris Atkins has a bold proposal,

‘If prisoners are literate, they are less likely to reoffend […] give them a month off their sentence if they pass GCSE English.’

An outlandish proposal perhaps but illustrates a potent point. It is no secret that offenders have had disproportionately vulnerable childhoods, often excluded from school. Many in prison are there because of a failure of the British education and social care systems. No crime is excusable, mine or anyone’s. However, it is to my mind not unreasonable to ask that people who were failed by the system are adequately supported by the system. Perhaps it would be excessively generous to give prisoners time off their sentence as an incentive to educate themselves, perhaps not.

There needs to be a serious rethink of how to encourage prisoners into work and away from crime.

Too often prisons are universities of crime. They don’t have to be and they shouldn’t be.

Chris and I are living proof of this. I have successfully resumed my studies; Chris has written a book and is raising public awareness of the failings of the criminal justice system. We have been able to do this with educational tools and supportive families at our disposal.

Hope drove my rehabilitation. Hope that one day I have a realistic chance of success; a stable job, a roof over my head, a family and the means to provide for them. For Chris and I there was always light at the end of the tunnel, just as there should be for every prisoner inside.

 

An Eye-Opening Pre-pandemic Study Trip

Author: | 8 May 2020

With the impact of Covid-19 felt across the world, travel is currently off limits. In a glimpse backwards and, hopefully, forwards, Longford scholar Wayne Haycock describes the lasting effect of a study trip to India before the pandemic.

 

At first, I had reservations. My last experience of international travel didn’t end well. At 16, I was arrested and imprisoned for drugs importation. That was eighteen years ago and a different me.

The prospect of a four-week placement in India stirred up deep-seated emotions from excitement to apprehension and everything in between.

I had to have a word with myself, telling myself this was as an opportunity to be grabbed not feared. Anyway, it was part of my youth work and community development university degree so important to do if I could raise the funds and get the visa. To be honest I hadn’t assumed it would be approved, so when it came through the mix of relief and fear were overwhelming.

A foreign assignment is a big deal for anyone. For me, it was massive.

Fast forward to January 2020 – before the global pandemic took hold – and I am on the plane to Kolkata (Calcutta as was) in India. On arrival at the airport, despite worries my past could be flagged up and I could be denied entry, I got straight through security. Relief.

First impressions….

Then it felt like stepping into a new world with car horns blasting and eye-watering driving, which I can only describe as an adult version of bumper cars. It all felt a bit crazy but exciting in anticipation of the experiences ahead. At the airport, I was met by staff from the Cathedral Relief Service (CRS), the organisation behind my placement. Originally it had been set up to provide refugees fleeing the Bangladeshi war in 1971 with medical, food and clothing supplies. Since then it has helped children and women with education, healthcare and vocational skills in Kolkata’s poorest areas and surrounding rural villages.

Previous thoughts of India were of the kind of images you see in travel brochures: multi-coloured landmarks, spices and bright dresses. Once there, the extreme poverty immediately jumped out at me: people living on the streets, women with children begging for anything they could lay their hands on, everyone fighting to survive. I couldn’t get my head round the normalisation and desensitisation to everyday human suffering. It was heart-breaking.

Education in action….

The educational projects I visited took me to the slum areas of Kolkata. The projects help pre- and primary school kids to gain a place at mainstream schools so that they have a fighting chance of breaking out of the poverty cycle they were born into.

What struck me most about seeing the education in action was that although generally of a good standard, it lacked special needs provision.  Children with specific learning issues like dyslexia, which makes reading and writing hard for them, simply fall through the cracks. This means 12-year-olds learning side-by-side in class with children as young as 5 as they have not been able to pass the necessary requirements to enter into mainstream education. Older children with special needs are held back until they pass. Some don’t. Older children were failing because they don’t have access to the essential specialist help they need.

I asked the teacher of this school what will happen to a particular 12- year-old boy, when his time on the educational programme finishes. She does not know, he is their family’s responsibility.

Another project that made a big impression was the women’s empowerment centre. It teaches embroidery skills to enable women to supplement their family’s income so their children can go to school and avoid begging so their family can eat. Seeing a practical project at first hand was heart-warming, how a simple intervention can bring education and a better future to families, and that making a difference to one person’s life really does have a knock-on effect to others.

Honestly, there were times when it was impossible to process both the poverty and  desperate health conditions. Meeting children dying of or orphaned by HIV in a hospice is something I will never forget. The problem is too complex to make sense of in a brief study trip. Maybe in time I will start to understand.

Looking back. The teenage girl I will never forget….

Reflecting now I am back and in lockdown, I remain struck by how the caste system was still evident although not spoken about. Yet everywhere I went it was in action, its impact obvious. For example, I visited a self-made community living alongside a railway track at a place called Brace Bridge (pictured here). Known as ‘untouchables’, the children have been born destined to struggle due to a broken social structure. They are ostracised from the rest of society, leading to terrible outcomes. Adult men marry young girls.

I met a fifteen year -old- girl with a baby.  She told me she was married at thirteen. This resonated with me.  My eldest daughter is the same age. I just cannot imagine her going through the challenges this young girl before me has. It made me question where her voice was being heard in all of this, did she have a say?

I understand India is overpopulated, but I just don’t comprehend how, in a well-resourced world, there are so many fellow human beings living in extreme poverty. After coming face-to-face with the harsh cost of people’s greed, on my return I am not prepared to accept it.

Nevertheless, my first international trip since my troubled teens was a blessing. It was an honour to take a hands-on academic ethnographic approach, to break out of the lecture hall. I have benefitted from experiencing a completely different culture and society for myself, and was blown away by people’s remarkable hospitality.

Travel is said to change people. I am undoubtedly changed by my visit to India. I had already come a very long way since the terrible trip of my youth. I was a transformed, different Wayne. Without doubt, though, I came back from India further changed.

It would be difficult for anyone to go to India, see those slums and not be humbled. Of course, we have issues within our community. As we all currently are living with the fallout from a global pandemic, I reflect on how we can always focus on the negatives in life such as what we do not have instead of what we do, my trip has helped me to appreciate the safety net of a welfare state, the NHS and the multiple services which give us the life we have.

It has made me realise how far I have come.

 

 

Wayne travelled to India with a travel scholarship from the Longford Trust.

 

 

 

 

Isolation: an expert survivor’s guide

Author: | 20 Mar 2020

Isolation: an expert survivor’s guide by artist and former Longford scholar Lee Cutter

I know a bit about isolation. In fact, after three years in prison I am an expert.  Through this coronavirus crisis people keep asking me, ‘What’s it like in isolation? How do you cope?’ as they deal with anxiety and worry about separation from friends, colleagues and family. Everyone is searching for reassurance and tips to cope with curtailed freedom, albeit at home.

It’s got me thinking.

They say your first day in prison is the toughest. For me it came about six months into my sentence. The first day in a young offenders prison was certainly confusing and a struggle, my whole understanding of the world feeling flipped upside down, but I still had some freedom, as prison goes. This was because I was on remand, waiting for a judge to sentence me. I could work, attend classes in education, mix with others in prison – ‘associate’ as they call it inside, and go to the gym.

Just a few months on, I started to understand the environment, in an odd way, I felt part of a community. Then I was sent to Crown Court to receive my sentence. At that time, the now thankfully abolished indeterminate sentence was popular. It was a lottery whether I’d get one, carrying the real fear of never knowing when I might ever be free again. But my case was adjourned, pushed to another date. It was in the next, different young offenders prison where the pain of isolation really hit.

In limbo, I spent days and months on end in a single cell with only myself for company, locked up for 24 hours a day, with access to two phone calls and two showers a week. The prison was overcrowded, understaffed, and those under 18 were given priority to work and education. I was unlucky I was 18 years old. Though looking back, my mind felt a lot younger and I had never experienced anything like this before.

In the first few weeks I distracted myself with the television and the radio, anything to get a sense of a world beyond my four walls. During the day I’d talk with my next-door neighbour through the gap in the pipes at the end of the cell. It was at night I’d struggle with my thoughts. It’s an understatement to say the next few months were a challenge. I’d think, and think, and think. I’d think about the mistakes I had made, how they had affected people, I’d think about my family, the events that led to my situation. I wondered if it would be like this forever. It was sending me crazy. I knew I had to change, and that I’d need to teach myself how.

And then an unexpected opportunity presented itself – a pencil.

An officer had left a pencil in my cell by accident, I used it to write down my thoughts and feelings onto any scrap of paper I could gather. It took the negative thoughts out of my head, and by seeing them in front of me, it somehow helped me to understand where they might have come from, how I could change them. I began making drawings of my cell, I’d draw the sink, the bed, the window, anything in front of me. When I ran out of paper, I would draw into bars of standard prison issue soap. The soap was free on the wing and it was much more accessible than a piece of paper.

Funnily enough, I didn’t see myself as an artist, I found a creative side within me. I didn’t know anything about art, I don’t even think I liked art much at the time but I knew that making was helping me.

A few months later I was sentenced, avoiding the dreaded indeterminate sentence. This time I moved prisons again. In the new prison I had access to more arts materials, more time out of my cell. Officers and other inmates saw my drawings and soon started to give me photographs of their loved ones and pets to draw. They’d ‘pay’ me in toiletries and food. Looking back, I guess these were my first commissions.

It’s odd thinking back to those times. It feels like a different me then, and yet those times, and the isolation, have contributed to the person and the artist I am today. I’ve been out of prison for ten years now, have completed a BA degree in Fine Art, with support from the Longford Trust, got a postgraduate at the Royal Drawing School. I now have a much sought-after job with Koestler Arts – encouraging people in prisons and other secure settings to engage in the arts. I am proud to say I have achieved what many artists never manage, exhibiting in the prestigious Royal Academy, Northern Gallery for Contemporary Art, Christie’s, the upmarket auction house and the Royal Festival Hall. And I am now a mentor for an artist through the Longford Trust who is studying a distance -learning degree in prison. I often think about what life is like for him being creative in his prison, I can see confinement shapes his work.

As we all face the isolation of coronavirus and restrictions in our daily lives and relationships I wouldn’t wish this uncertain period of confinement on anyone. One silver- lining is perhaps the insight it offers, a window into imprisonment. The lack of control, unable to go out when you feel like it, prevented from learning in a classroom or library when you choose, no longer seeing or hugging a grandparent –the punishing impact of not doing what used to be normal. I hope and trust we will all dig deep in this coronavirus, finding some hidden talents – as myself and my mentee have done with art. Spare a thought for the 80, 0000 plus men, women and children in overcrowded, often dirty prisons across England and Wales who know isolation and resourcefulness all too well. Next time someone says prison is too ‘soft’ remember this time and remind them what it felt like during the coronavirus crisis.

 

 

 

Find out more about Lee and his hand-made book An Inside Story, a hand bound with prison bedsheets and visitation shirts here: https://www.koestlerarts.org.uk/shop/books/an-inside-story/