Kells man turns his prison past into powerful artwork

An artist from Kells who spent the best part of 20 years behind bars and battling addiction has told how discovering art saved his life. At 43, Thomas Hendy is living a life he once believed impossible.

A talented artist, devoted partner, and father to a young daughter, Kells is where Thomas has rebuilt his life far removed from the chaos of his past. For more than two decades, Thomas’s existence was dictated by addiction, crime, and repeated prison sentences. Today, he tells his story not just with words but through powerful, evocative pieces of art that reflect the pain of his past and the hope of his present.

“I spent close to 20 years in and out of prison,” said Thomas. “It started with petty theft. Then six month sentences became 12 months, and before I knew it, I’d spent over ten, maybe 15 years behind bars over the course of 25 years.”

Inside prison, Thomas originally from Bray discovered the one thing that brought him any sense of peace: drawing. He began sketching portraits for fellow inmates images that became treasured gifts for families on the outside. It was his first taste of what art could do not just for himself but for others.

“I always passed the time with portrait work. Lads didn’t have much to give their families for birthdays or Christmas, and they’d ask me to draw something. That’s how it started.”

Though he was surviving, Thomas was far from thriving. Each release was followed by the same overwhelming challenge, re-entering a world that had moved on without him.

Throughout his time in St Patrick's Institution for Young Offenders a retired probation officer used to visit Thomas regularly. This officer saw potential in him when few others did and encouraged him to believe there was a life beyond the cycle he was trapped in.

“He was one of the few people who didn’t give up on me,” Thomas reflects. “Those visits kept a small light on in the darkest times.”

There was one moment early in his sentence that feels straight out of a film, though Thomas is quick to point out the reality was anything but glamorous.

“I was one month into a two-year sentence when I had to be brought to A&E. My tonsils had swollen up and I needed surgery,” he recalls. “After the operation, I woke up groggy, still in a hospital gown, and realised the guards weren’t around. No handcuffs. No one watching me.”

In what he now calls both reckless and desperate, Thomas got up, grabbed his clothes, and stumbled out the back stairs of the Mater Hospital. Still dizzy from anaesthetic, he made it to his brother’s flat in Rathmines, where the initial shock quickly gave way to a night of drinking and chaos.

“It felt exciting at the time, like I was outsmarting the system. But looking back, it was just more destruction. I was putting people who cared about me in danger, breaking more trust, and digging myself deeper.”

The night ended with the fire brigade having to rescue him from the top of a building, a moment he has no memory of. Somehow, despite everything, he initially evaded being identified as an escaped prisoner.

Some time later, Thomas faced another bizarre situation in court, an incident that drew unexpected reactions but highlighted the chaotic path he was on.

“I was about 14 beers deep when I got behind the wheel of a car I had no licence or insurance for,” he says bluntly. “I didn’t even know how to drive. I just said, ‘Sure why not,’ and off I went, zigzagging across the city.”

The Gardaí pulled him over near Portobello Bridge. In the passenger footwell was a glass-shattering hammer, commonly used in emergencies or break-ins.

“Of all things, that’s what they charged me for, possession of the hammer. Because the guards didn’t ask for licence or insurance on the scene, they couldn’t pin the driving charges on me.”

When asked in court why he had the hammer, Thomas gave a surreal answer:

“I said I thought I might crash into the canal, and I’d need it to break the glass and swim to safety.”

Even the judge cracked a smile. But for Thomas, the moment wasn’t funny.

“I was using humour to avoid facing the truth, that I was broken, that I was wrecking every chance I got.”

Thomas’s turning point came through grief. He’s lost two brothers, Luke and Ivan through addiction. The most recent loss, just three years ago nearly pushed him back into self-destruction.

“I could’ve gone completely off the rails when Ivan died. But I remembered what he would’ve wanted. That helped me make a different choice.”

The birth of his daughter shortly afterward gave him purpose.

“She arrived two weeks after I went back into treatment. That changed everything. I didn’t want her growing up in that shadow.”

He also credits his partner for holding the line during his early recovery.

“She was solid, even when I slipped up at first. I owe it to her as much as to myself. She reminded me I had value.”

Recovery didn’t happen overnight. Thomas admits to struggling with patience and expectations.

“Those first two years were the hardest. I was like a time bomb, waiting for things to happen quickly. But I had to unlearn years of shortcuts.”

He turned to sea swimming as a form of therapy and even used it to raise funds for a mental health charity.

“You plunge into freezing water and come out feeling alive. That was symbolic for me, shock, discomfort, then a kind of clarity.”

But it’s art that became his real anchor.

“It helps me process the things that don’t have words. That’s therapy for me.”

He shares wisdom now with those still struggling:

“The past and future don’t exist in the present, which is all you can control, so focus on doing the next right thing for you, and the rest will look after itself.”

“Use yesterday’s mistakes as a learning in what you can do today for a better tomorrow.”

“You’ve got to be selfish in your pursuit of happiness so you can be the best version of yourself for those you care about.”

Thomas now produces and showcases art under the name 142 Art Studio, a deeply personal nod to his past.

“142 was my prison number. They started assigning them in 2000, and I was the 142nd. It’s a reminder, every day, of where I came from.”

His work is raw, reflective, and filled with layered symbolism. One painting shows a younger version of himself staring up at a bird from the prison yard, a reference the retired probation officer who saw potential in him even when he couldn’t see it himself. This piece received an open submission award for the Dublin Painting and Sketching Club’s 147th annual exhibition.

Another features him alongside his brothers, present only in reflection.

“They’re not here, but I carry them in everything I do.”

After posting some of his work on social media, Thomas quickly gained a following 500 people overnight from just one post.

“It was overwhelming at first. I’d never even used social media properly. But people connected with the work.”

His art caught the attention of a gallery owner Tony Strickland who will be curating a joint exhibition alongside Dublin based artist Ger Hughes at Reds Gallery, Dawson Street, Dublin 2, opening on 30th October.

“It’s wild. I used to be in a prison cell trying to sketch on scraps. Now I’m hanging pieces in a gallery. It’s a long way from where I started.”