the crooked line

This is long and I apologise for it. It was written after a recent visit to Rangoon and I put it here because I think Moe and his art deserves being talked about.

There is a tiredness about Rangoon.
It’s a city that seems to exist under a layer of dirt, an obscuring and faded picture.
There are the old colonial buildings, grandiose during the era of the British but neglected since. They are facades, stained, decaying, beautiful, lonely – well-trodden boardwalks and stories aplenty.
Moss grows in clumps where water has trickled down their sides. All manner of plants grown around, through and into their orifices.
Beautiful wooden shutters and colours of pale green, blue and cream. They are the most visible example of Burma’s decaying existence. In these buildings you see mirrored the faces of those on the street. Tired, dirty, neglected, but with undeniable beauty.

Continue reading ‘decayed facades and bold picasso’s’

The River Moei is no more than 10 metres wide under the bridge. You could wade it. Many people do. On one side you have Myawaddy, the other side Mae Sot. One side Burma, the other side Thailand. Such difference is divided by only a 10 metre piece of water. Once you’ve crossed the water, and before you reach the official Thai border there is a vast piece of land, no-man’s land. There was once talk of building a casino on it but for the most part it remains over-grown, dirt and tall grass.

Continue reading ‘No Man’s Land’

Tatts have a colourful history, and Burma’s a good example of it.

You could say tatts fulfill two needs: beauty and spirituality. For a man to have a tattoo enhances his attractiveness to the opposite sex. It is also a sign of bravery (more on that later). However, for women like the Chin and the Monypwa, tattooing is used for the opposite effect. There is some suggestion that the elaborate tattooing common to the faces of Chin women is actually an attempt by the women to look ugly and therefore removed from the unwanted advances of Burmese soldiers. I have seen pictures of Karen men with tattooing across their entire upper thighs. Although Victor Lieberman suggests that this practice was the distinguishing feature of the Burmese men in the 1700s and before. Tattooing was a right of passage although you could say it has become less so in today’s world.

Continue reading ‘Tattoos’

Hsaw Pa Kaw has a bit of a cult following along the Thai-Burma border and inside Karen State. He is a character that appeals to the general public in that affectionate and comforting way Ginger Meggs was to me as a child. But he has the political finesse of a Doonsbury cartoon with a very specific point to make. He is the guy we all know and can relate to, a non-threatening and reasonable guy who compliments this normalness with a dash of good advice.

The one below appeared in Kwe Ka Lu in October 2oo5. Kwe Ka Lu is the only newspaper written entirely in Karen which provides news, opinion pieces and cartoons to the Karen population in the refugee camps along the border and for communities inside Karen State. For many Karen people it is their only source of information about what is happening outside their immediate vicinity. Continue reading ‘‘Hsaw Pa Kaw’ - messages through cartoons’

the crooked line could be a statement, “well that’s a crooked line!”
It could be a noun, as in the name given to this blog: the crooked line.
Or maybe a description, “left, right, then follow the crooked line.”
But for me, and for this blog, the crooked line must be the verb: the art of doing, the act of making. It is the journey down the crooked line.

It is a process by which groups and individuals create artistic expression and in doing so begin a dialogue. An admirable feat in itself. But this crooked line is about the act of making art by displaced peoples and thus has pertinent messages often achieved via what a friend calls, “the crooked line”, the indirect route of veiled messages and hidden stories. In this case I talk of the displaced from Burma, the Karen, the Burmese, but also the Chin, the Karenni, the Shan and many more. Political activists, human rights defenders, farmers, shop owners, mothers, daughters and elders. This is the strength of art; there need be no distinctions and no exclusions. And they create their art despite the threats to their lives, the lack of resources and the absence of any training. In fact you could say they create their art because of it. They are mostly ordinary people bought together by their common desire to tell their story, whether it be through a poem, a song, an artwork, a cultural performance or the theatre.

But I don’t wish to romanticize art or its purposes, or even those who create it. Art can just as easily be construed towards negative purposes, used as propaganda and to reinforce specific agendas. In many cases the dissemination and distribution of art is subject to such complex relationships that it can never be singularly ‘art for the good’ or ‘art for the bad’. Art does not come without influences and attachments that are not always instantly recognized or understood. And this is never more pertinent then in politically unstable situations such as the one you will find in Burma.

The people I have met from Burma, and specifically the Karen, deserve my admiration; however they are also people from whom I have learnt a great deal. About the effects of displacement, about self-identity and cultural identity, about preserving and maintaining culture. They have taught me about humanity and about ‘home’, about survival and about commitment to the struggle for a just society. Messages which are woven through their art, and issues I hope to discuss through this blog.

I would hope that this blog will be a celebration of the individuals’ creation and courage in challenging situations. I hope it will show that displacement and trauma do not create passive victims but rather individuals and communities with active, vocal and insightful stories. I hope it will show that from these voices we can learn much about the people speaking from the margins. I hope this discussion finds no end. And I hope that many of you will participate in it, whether through your comments or if you have your own story to contribute.

Welcome.