In other pieces, the claustrophobia of prison life is palpable; an anonymous painting titled Full House shows a crowded mass of uniformed figures, representing Britain's swelling prison population. In a work called Vortex, one of the potential exhibits in London, a futuristic swirl of color is splattered with red, blood-like paint. Another piece, entitled My World in Winter, is an abstract Peter Doig–style picture that evokes the gritty texture of the prison yard.
The lack of access to materials clearly inspires innovation. "It is interesting what styles emerge," says Ally Walsh, an art manager at the Anne Peaker Centre for Arts in Criminal Justice in London. "Some [inmates] might have had no exposure to contemporary art. But what they're making is naive and abstract art."
Therapeutic art programs are widely believed to help rehabilitate criminals. Now they're also generating controversial interest from critics and private collectors. Earlier this year, two paintings by London's notorious Kray twins-—who ran a violent gang called "the Firm" during the 1960s, were convicted of murder, and have since died—netted nearly £1,000 apiece when they went under the hammer at a London auction house. Another lot of eight Kray artworks sold by a former prison officer's daughter—including watercolor landscapes and a self-portrait by one of the brothers titled Ron & Reg in Top Hat & Tails—fetched a total of £17,500 at an auction house in Hampshire, England. "[People] imagine that the underworld might be revealed by having access to this work," says Walsh. "Suddenly the taboo life of people in prison is available to the public. Even if it's not to fully understand [it], it's just an attempt to try and glimpse that world. That desire is very compelling. That's what's driving this market."