Creative recovery is still treated as optional. For Frames of Mind, it is the work.

Formerly known as Salmagundi Films, the organisation uses animation and filmmaking to support people experiencing mental health challenges. In an interview over Microsoft Teams, co-founders Bo Chapman and Zoe Flynn described both the impact of their work and the instability that defines it.

The evidence is not in doubt. A 2017 report by the All-Party Parliamentary Group on Arts, Health and Wellbeing linked creative activity to improved recovery and fewer GP visits, suggesting benefits for both individuals and the wider health system.

“We got really excited,” Chapman said. “We didn’t have to be the ones saying ‘Look, this works.’ It was already there.”

But that evidence has not translated into stability.

“We thought by now it might be a regular thing and people would say, ‘Hey, come and work on this ward,’” Flynn said. “It’s not as easy as that.”

Instead, the organisation survives on short-term funding cycles. Social prescribing can connect participants to projects like Frames of Mind, but it rarely provides continuity. Sustaining the work depends on time-intensive grant applications with no guarantee of success.

“A grant application could take both of us a week,” Chapman said. “And then you still don’t know if you’re going to get it.”

What stands out is not just the instability, but the breadth of work it threatens.

In the Loop, a project supporting young people experiencing early-stage psychosis, saw participants create digital CVs through stop motion animation, photography and writing. One participant described it as “life changing”, recognising for the first time that they had valuable skills. The project builds confidence and employability, yet exists on uncertain terms.

People Need People addressed digital exclusion among older adults, helping participants develop technical skills while forming new social connections.

“Otherwise we’re stuck at home on our own and feel like aliens,” one participant said. “When you come here, you feel like part of the human race again.”

The outcomes are simple: connection, confidence, re-engagement with the world. None are guaranteed to last.

In Cambridge, a woman experiencing psychosis and at risk of losing custody of her child created a stop motion film using a fidget spinner her son had made and her favourite The Psychedelic Furs CD. Watching the finished piece, she broke down in tears.

“I realised I’ve just acted out my relationship with my son.”

She later regained custody and went on to study at art college.

“It gave me something to get out of bed for in the morning,” she said.

These are not abstract benefits. They are personal, measurable and, in some cases, life changing. Yet they remain dependent on temporary funding.

With support from the National Lottery, Frames of Mind is now collaborating with artist Matt Ponting and the Active Support Group at Chargable Lane Resource Centre to develop branding for a catering initiative, CommuniTeas and Coffee. Like much of their work, it exists within the limits of short-term support.

For Chapman and Flynn, the impact is clear. The problem is not proof. It is permanence.

“We’ve seen lives change because of this work,” Chapman said. “Now it’s about making sure we can keep doing it.”

Creative recovery has already proven its value. The question is why the system still treats it as expendable.