Behind bars, the therapeutic power of theatre

Art that saves you and puts you back at the centre. For Salvatore Striano, theatre was not only therapeutic but a chance to deconstruct everything he knew about himself, giving him a new language, because the language of crime lacked depth. "Theatre in prison is a panacea, recidivism is lowered by more than 80 per cent. People who are in jail and are lucky enough to participate in theatre workshops stop offending. It gives you no security that you will become an artist or an actor. When I got out of prison, I had no illusions of continuing to be an actor. But I felt one thing about myself right away. I no longer wanted to commit crimes. There are educators, there are lawyers who have experience as ex-prisoners and this happened thanks to the activities that were carried out internally. A real magic. For me, theatre not only made me stop committing crimes, but with its discipline it gave me a new language, it gave me new attitudes because those who commit crimes have a very poor vocabulary where they always talk about the same things'. Whereas before, Salvatore Striano knew the theatre only because he went there to steal 'furs from wealthy women', a prisoner and hostage of the Camorra, a child of the crimes of the underworld, in prison he finally felt free, because on stage he realised he could forgive himself: 'You come out of the jungle and you are no longer interested in talking about certain things, you want to know, you want new words, new stories. I started when I was scraping the ground, because I lost my father and mother while I was in prison and the only thing that kept me distracted was alcohol and psychiatric drugs. One day I had a script in my hand and not only did I make peace with my mum (I didn't want to hear from her again because I couldn't accept the fact that she had died while I was in prison), I brought her to the stage. My first role was Donna Amalia in Napoli milionaria. It was an incredible thing: I was in my mother's belly and I saw her inside me. Me in her. It was truly a joy. Art must really touch you, otherwise it is not art'.

Even the Ministry of Justice, with recently allocated funds, has recognised the importance of culture as a tool for reintegration. But the road is long: 'Funds are needed, but also political and human vision,' say Mirella Cannata and Carlo Imparato of Teatro Necessario. 'You cannot talk about rehabilitation if you do not offer real, continuous, structured spaces'. The Minister of Justice, Carlo Nordio, allocates about EUR 74 million to set up orientation, training, and social housing paths for persons subject to an external penal measure or coming out of penal institutions, and to activate a network to foster their social and work reintegration. With this in mind, workshops and activities in the theatrical sphere constitute a basis to be valorised and from which to build pathways that have an artistic but also a training dimension, in order to make prison not only a penal institution but also an institution of culture, a place where the contradictions and energies present are valorised and transformed in a constructive and proactive sense and not only in a restraining sense.

In the Marassi prison in Genoa, theatre art has become a structured and lasting project. Set up in 2005 on the initiative of Mirella Cannata - an art history teacher - and director Sandro Baldacci, the Teatro dell'Arca, named after the recently deceased director, is now a national reference point. With more than 500 inmates involved, 20 shows produced and thousands of spectators each year, the initiative proves that culture in prison can be concrete rehabilitation. Since 2015, thanks to enlightened management, a real wooden theatre, unique in Italy, has been built inside the facility, completely open to the public. "As soon as they enter the theatre, prisoners stop feeling like prisoners. It is a space where you can breathe freedom, dignity, responsibility,' says the creator.

Not everyone becomes an actor, but many find a new path in theatre. This is the case of Gianluca, a former prisoner involved in the lighting workshop of the Teatro dell'Arca: 'When the professional lighting technician went missing on the day of the debut, he replaced him. From there, a career: today he works for important concerts, from Vasco Rossi to Negramaro. Like Striano, today he is back in schools to tell his story'. This proves that theatre in prison is not just artistic expression, but education, discovery of oneself and of others. Acting is only the surface: behind it, there are crafts, technical skills, a sense of teamwork, personal growth.

The problem, however, is wider. Striano denounces a prison reality that is still backward: 'In Spain, I could see my wife in intimacy once a month. In Italy, for seven years, nothing. When I got out, I couldn't even be with a woman anymore. It's inhuman. The lack of affection makes everything worse'. Similarly, the lack of work and economic inequalities make detention even more ruthless: 'Those who are poor stay inside. And inside the poor become even poorer. The bosses buy them with a stamp'. Experiences such as the Teatro dell'Arca are now part of a wider network, 'Per Aspera ad Astra', promoted by ACRI, how to reconfigure prison through culture and beauty', an important project, led by Armando Punzo's Compagnia della Fortezza, which supports theatre workshops in 14 Italian prisons. The Genoa project is one of the most advanced, and stands alongside realities such as the Compagnia della Fortezza in Volterra or the Teatro Libero in Rebibbia, which have also become internationally renowned. But the road is long: 'Funds are needed, but also political and human vision,' say the Teatro dell'Arca. 'You cannot talk about rehabilitation if you do not offer real, continuous, structured spaces'.