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Interview with Burmese artist, Htein Lin
Burma remains a mystery to us. Not only do we hear very little in terms of Burmese cultural life, but what chaotic images of crisis we get are few and fail to show the working, day-to-day life of the country’s people.
But respected Burmese artist Htein Lin is looking to reveal his native country. He has experienced life and Burma from the Inside Out. Associated with rebels pushing for democracy in the 80s, imprisoned several times and at one point tortured after being falsely accused of conspiracy against Burma’s military rule; Htein Lin spent a stretch of seven years in prison in Burma during the 90s.
Having always improvised with his art, producing works in mud whilst a rebel in the jungle and expressing himself with whatever he could get his hands on, the artist began using fingers, lighters, syringes and even a prison uniform as brushes and canvas whilst in jail.
Now released, after it was revealed there was no case against him, the artist lives in London and is displaying the works he produced during his stretch in prison over at Asia House. These insightful, ever-optimistic pieces incorporate images of the Buddha, of prison life, of the hopes and fears that become part of a prisoner’s consciousness. Importantly, however, Htein Lin’s works reveal a significant slice of Burma’s cultural life, opening eyes to a lively, driven, too-often overlooked culture.
MyVillage recently had chance to catch up with the artist ...
Your current exhibition of art you made in prison is called Burma Inside Out. Why is this?
’Inside out’ is when you reveal everything that is normally hidden.
My paintings had to be hidden but now they can be shown. And I completed them while I was ’inside’: inside jail, inside Burma. Now I am outside of both. I have seen that there can be a big difference between what people who are outside the country think about Burma, and what is really happening inside. I wanted to show some aspects of my country which most people don’t know about. That includes the art scene.
Do you feel there is enough understanding of the situation in Burma over here?
When people think of Burma, they think of Aung San Suu Kyi under house arrest, human rights abuses, refugees, and a military dictatorship. They don’t think about our daily lives or our culture.
They forget that, like other countries, we have artists, writers, directors, and musicians who are trying their best to be creative under difficult circumstances. In my exhibition, and the programme at Asia House, I am trying to show more about those aspects of life inside Burma.
What does prison do to an artist?
When I arrived in prison I didn’t have any art materials so I had to look for other ways to paint. Through experimentation, I developed new techniques using found materials in my cell and bits and pieces the warders brought for me. I drew inspiration from my constraints, and from my location. Life inside prison was hard, but challenges can be the best inspiration for an artist. Also, I was freed from the constraints of the market, and the art critics. So I could paint what I wanted, and as a result my art could be more honest and free.
People might find it surprising that there can be freedom in such an environment, because the usual assumption is that the freer your life, the greater your creativity. But I found prison liberating for my art.
You have an undeniable thirst to paint, a desire that has led you to use prison uniforms and plastic bags as canvas. How has this thirst helped you over the years?
Art has always helped me to adjust to my surroundings. If I can only eat, shower, meditate and paint each day I am happy. When I was in the jungle rebel camps between 1988 and 1992, we had to march for miles through the rain. When we stopped, I would find a stick and draw in the mud to relax. When I was arrested in 1998 and was being held at the interrogation centre, I was depressed and exhausted as I had not been allowed to sleep. So to unwind, I drew pictures on the paper they had left me for my confession. My interrogator got angry when he found out I’d done that, because he needed a confession to take to his bosses. But then he confessed he’d always wanted to be an artist too.
Do you find it harder to paint now that you have brushes and canvas at your fingertips?
I never find it difficult to paint, whether I have everything I need, or - apparently - nothing.
Could you talk a little about your involvement in the Venice Biennale?
I think I must be the first Burmese artist ever to participate at the Venice Biennale. Until I got there, I didn’t know what a biennale was, or that Venice was full of canals. I was invited by DDM Warehouse, a group of artists based in Shanghai, to take part as a performance artist in their ’collateral event’ called ’Migration Addicts’, with a mixture of other artists, mostly Asian. My site was the Campo San Barnaba.
I saw the African migrants in Venice selling fake Prada handbags every night outside the real Prada shops. It inspired me to start selling rubber gloves full of canal water to the visitors and the residents for one of my performances. It went down very well although I had to explain to the police that I had an
artist’s permit or they might have arrested me.
I am trying not to get arrested again.
Could you explain a bit about your interest in physical expression and performance art and how this figures in your painting?
I have been doing performance art since 1996 in Rangoon. In those days I was a comic actor, as well as a painter, but I found the scripts too limiting, particularly because of the censorship. When another artist explained to me about performance art, I thought I should try it. And I’ve been using my body to paint since I was in jail where I used my hands, feet and face to create the basis for my monotypes, as I didn’t have brushes. I’ve continued with this now that I am out of jail, and people find my technique interesting.
Until they see it, they can’t imagine. My bigger paintings can turn into a performance. And unless I video my performance, I cannot appreciate it properly myself. So I like to combine performance and painting as it leaves a permanent trace for me to reflect on.
We live in an overtly political time. Is it a right or a duty for a modern artist to approach politics in their work?
It shouldn’t be a duty. If you compulsorily harness art to politics, you can end up insulting the integrity of both. But every artist should have the right to reflect politics in their work. In Burma we don’t have that right, yet.
How have you found London? Have you got a favourite part of town?
London has given me incredible opportunities to see and participate in art. My favourite place is Borough for the Tate Modern. I take my friends from Burma along the river near there and explain to them that Tower Bridge is not London Bridge. But Borough market is too expensive for me. I prefer Brixton market, near where I live in the Oval. The prices are more like Rangoon.
Will you return to Burma?
Absolutely. I intend to go back shortly to visit my friends and family. I am in touch with them each day over the internet, so long as they have electricity and a connection. I still participate in exhibitions in Burma, and provide poems, illustrations and articles for the magazines there. Currently I’m writing an article on the latest Damien Hirst exhibition in London.
Can you still be optimistic about Burma after your experiences?
Definitely. My time in prison strengthened my art. When you forge a knife, you put the iron in the fire and beat it to make it harder and sharper. So I think that the current difficult times which the Burmese people are living through is making them stronger and more creative, whether they are artists and writers, politicians or just ordinary people...
You can see Htein Lin:
Burma Inside Out at Asia House until the 13th October 2007
Asia House
63 New Cavendish Street
London W1G 7LP
Tel.: 0207 407 5454
For more details visit:
www.hteinlin.com
www.asiahouse.org
Chris Lord, MyVillage 31st July
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