Beyond Borders Scotland and Dove Tales, the Association of Scottish Writers for Peace, collaborated on the Beyond Writing Competition, aiming to facilitating dialogue and cultural exchange through the creative writing and storytelling.    

The competition consisted of three rounds; Inspirational Women, Creative Peace and Beyond Borders.  

This piece by Linda Lewin was shortlisted in Round III: Beyond Borders. The competition’s judge, Jean Rafferty of Dove Tales, described the piece, saying Angels With Broken Wings used an article about an art exhibition not just to tell the reader about the exhibits but to talk about the political and cultural situation in Myanmar. The premise of the piece, that art crosses borders, was demonstrated by the writer’s going beyond the narrow form of cultural review to discuss a wider truth. 

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Angels with Broken Wings

Art is a language which crosses borders with ease. It lives on tiny scraps of paper, ancient clay

tablets, film posters, oil paintings in galleries and comic books on the street. Sometimes with

words and sometimes without. It slips through barriers outwitting repressive governments and the

censor. Sometimes it takes courage to cross borders, to be the person that breaks the imposed

rules and crosses the permitted line, the individual who gives up the safety of anonymity and

dares to paint the black and white truth even when black is a prohibited colour. In Myanmar visual

artists are amongst those courageous people who cross borders and tell the truth about their

country.

In January 2017 I was fortunate to attended the opening of CONCEPT.CONTEXT.CONTESTATION.

An exhibition of Southeast Asian contemporary art at the Secretariat Office in Yangon

commissioned by Thailand’s Bangkok Art & Culture Centre and organised in conjunction with the

Goethe Institut, Myanmar The Secretariat is an impressive pink brick building and the former

home of British colonial administration in Myanmar. It lay derelict and mysterious for many years,

behind a high locked fence surrounded by overgrown trees. It’s future use is still not clear but for

the moment the exterior has been beautifully restored and the raw internal spaces seemed a

perfect setting for this powerful exhibition by 41 Southeast Asian artists including 10 from

Myanmar.

The exhibition opened in the entrance hall with wonderful east west fusion jazz music and

speeches but the speeches were not quite “the usual” and the supportive crowd of foreigners and

locals was clearly emotional. We were told that the exhibition opening was exactly one year late

because permission to open had been refused in 2018 and in 2019 permission was granted only

24 hours ahead of opening. Hanging the show in time for the preview was a tremendous physical

achievement, only the artist statements were left lying loose on the floor. I also discovered that

the problems of censorship meant that performance art and installations are better developed and

safer forms of expression for the artist rather than painting and drawing which have suffered

more from the censor.

After the introduction we followed a band of traditional village musicians including adults and

children, even a new baby, up the ancient cast iron spiral staircase into the huge first floor

exhibition halls. The raucous, cheerful music was a good choice to lift our moods but but it could

not alleviate the intense tropical heat of the afternoon or dispel the somber atmosphere which

filled the high warehouse style rooms.

I knew that General Aung San and his ministers had been assassinated in this building, and my

own Karen uncle, San Po Thin, had narrowly escaped death on that occasion because he was

late for the fateful meeting. Now these derelict rooms with their familiar, railway style cast iron

columns had become temporary galleries where the artists compelled the audience to confront

uncomfortable truths including death and torture.

A small notice glued to the wall informed us that the artist Htein Lin had died just a few hours

before the exhibition opening which made his offering even more shockingly poignant. A black

and burnt padouk tree, the charred remains of a traditional village house, abandoned and burnt

children’s toys and empty black cooking pots. The silence emanating from these abandoned

personal possessions was powerful enough to negate the sound of traffic from the open widows.

We looked but we did not see what was in front of us, we saw lines of refugees walking slowly to

the borders seeking safety for their families.

Half way through the afternoon I was aware that a much loved and respected figure had arrived. A

reverent crowd gathered around a frail, white haired man who was not much more substantial

than the stick he used to support himself. Younger artists respectfully shook his hand and offered

their support. The artist Aung Myint slowly scattered rice on the concrete floor. Gradually, as he

worked the borders of Myanmar metamorphosed from the rice grains. He illustrated his map with

cheap plastic trinkets made in China, plastic dolls representing Yangon, toy cars loaded with

wood and gems rushing across the border into China. Finally his map was finished, overwhelmed

with zero value plastic. Aung Myint’s installation entitled “The Intruders” revealed to us the

vulnerability of Myanmar since it opened up to influences from the outside world, in particular,

China. A depiction of unchecked commercial exploitation , cultural degradation and the plunder of

natural resources from across the borders.

A little later, I met the artist Kaung Su standing in front of what appeared to be a crude jumble of

rubbish strewn on the floor. He explained that these broken pieces of wood and dirty rags were

“Angels with broken Wings”, representing his broken dreams for democracy in Myanmar. At that

moment, talking to Kaung Su I understood that the euphoria which swept across Myanmar when

Aung Sang Su Kyi was elected in 2015 has dissipated and a resigned and tired disappointment

has set in. I understood why many people will say that they are ashamed and each one will have

their own reasons for feeling this way. They are sad and they are sorry. They are still waiting for

change. The military men and their business cronies have maintained their hold on power

supported by the constitution they designed and the rule of law which is applied to some but not

others.

My “Angels With Broken Wings” are the ordinary people of Myanmar, the artists determined to tell

the truth about their country, the young people desperate for education, parents who want better

lives for their children and religious leaders who provide material and spiritual support for their

communities. They have all welcomed me as a family member and I wait with them for peace,

prosperity and democracy to take root within the borders of Myanmar.