ON TUESDAYS, DON’T CALL FASHION designer Puey Quiñones. Friends and clients used to wonder what he was up to, since he never texted back or answered calls. Never on Tuesday.

For the past eight months, the diminutive designer has been conducting weekly workshops for 30 artistically inclined inmates at the New Bilibid Prison’s maximum security compound in Muntinlupa City.

In less than four months, the inmates started collaborating with Quiñones, who allowed them to handpaint dresses, skirts, blouses and wraps ordered by his customers. The designer pays each prisoner per piece.

So far, he’s the only designer to conduct fashion-related workshops at Bilibid.

“Each artist can earn from P100 to P500 per piece depending on the work,” said Quiñones. “The more they produce, the more they earn.”

Themes vary depending on the designer’s whims. Nature has been a favorite subject. On the day we visited Quiñones’ class, he asked participants to come up with their individual takes on pink and white flamingos.

The ready-to-wear pieces have found a market among Quiñones’ clients at Bobon at The Podium and L Manila at Greenbelt 5.

“Friends were initially concerned,” said Quiñones. “They were afraid that some of my clients might not like the idea of me collaborating with prisoners. On the contrary, my customers were amazed when they learned about it.”

Only too happy

Inmates like Raymond, a former waiter, are only too happy to see on TV their handiwork being worn by celebrities like Kris Aquino, Boy Abunda, Sitti and Us Girls Angel Aquino, Iya Villania and Chesca Garcia.

Since most of their cases are on appeal, a number of inmates asked this writer not to give their last names.

“I almost hugged the TV when I saw the Us Girls wearing my pieces,” said Raymond. “I haven’t felt so happy in a long while.”

The rewards, however, go beyond instilling a renewed sense of pride in them. Fellow inmate Joefry, a former billboard artist, also values the modest income he earns from working with Quiñones.

Like a number of enterprising inmates who still manage to earn money behind bars, Joefry is now able to provide some form of financial support for his family.

“Part of my income goes to my children’s tuition as well as household expenses,” he said. “The rest I keep for myself to buy food.”

Aside from bringing them food, Quiñones also carries a small suitcase filled with bottles of textile paint and RTW pieces for his collaborators to work on.

In lieu of canvases, inmates work on his finished clothes with textile paint as their medium.

“Contrary to what you would expect, these guys are very disciplined and eager to learn,” he said.

It wasn’t always like this. At first, Quiñones was a bit reluctant to heed the prison-based Lamb of God (LOG) Foundation’s invitation for him to conduct creative and self-help workshops for inmates.

Led by inmates Warren Zingapan and Mike Alvir, one of the foundation’s objectives is to develop programs to keep prisoners occupied and productive by harnessing their talents and teaching them useful skills in various fields like music, baking, acting, painting, writing and photography.

With the help of its outside contacts, LOG has always been on the lookout for experts in different fields who are willing to conduct free workshops for the inmates.

It was during one of these workshops that Alvir met volunteer Andy Maluche, a photographer who also happens to be Quiñones’ uncle.

“I asked Andy if he knows anybody who can do workshops on tailoring and dressmaking,” said Alvir. “He thought of Puey, and told us to invite him.”

Maluche told his nephew of LOG’s invitation. It took a bit of convincing before Quiñones agreed.

A fearful Quiñones first entered the compound sometime last year. The thought of interacting with convicted murderers, rapists, car thieves, drug pushers and kidnappers suddenly scared him. He wanted to back out.

“I’ve always been afraid of prisoners and prison life,” he said. “I was probably able to muster enough courage because I really wanted to overcome this fear. This is also my way of giving back to others.”

Quiñones’ concerns, it turned out, were unfounded. Even before the first meeting was over, he realized that most of the inmates were really well-behaved and eager to please.

“Some of these inmates haven’t had any visits from their loved ones for years,” said Alvir. “That’s why we welcome everyone, especially someone as accomplished as Puey, to spend some time with us.”

Known for wearing outrageous outfits, including “men’s skirts,” the openly gay Quiñones has yet to experience being jeered at inside the all-male compound.

“Actually, I feel much safer inside than I do outside,” he said. “It was my decision not to wear skirts and to remain as low-key as possible during my visits.”

Quiñones supervises his students, but he gives them a free hand to do whatever they want. He assigns lesser talents to knot and do bead work for his line of bags.

“I really wanted to teach them how to make clothes at first,” he said. “Although there are a number of tailors in the compound, it was impossible to work with them because they don’t have sewing machines.”

When inmates first heard of the workshop, the compound’s gay population predictably turned out in full force. More than half of the initial batch of participants were gay, said Quiñones.

As early as the second week, however, he saw a drastic shift, with straight men making up majority of the class. These days, there are only three openly gay workshop participants.

Despite working with a team of gifted artists, Quiñones had to spend some time conducting lectures and providing them with ideas and glossy magazines before actual work could begin.

By giving them weekly assignments, he was able to gauge their individual talents. Soon enough, his students started thinking outside the box.

“I always remind them to work on stuff that would sell,” he said.

Typical images from prisoners such as Jesus Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary, iron grills, doves, skull and crossbones and bleeding hearts won’t do anymore.

“For Puey, the weirder the drawing, the better,” said Joefry. “Once we hear him say the words ‘I love it’ as he goes through our work, we know we’re on the right track.”