fünf zu eins: Htein Lin

000235

On 8 August 1988, a student movement in Myanmar ignited a nationwide revolution. It has since become known as “8888”. Htein Lin, a law student at the time, was involved in these protests. The violent aftermath forced him to flee through the jungle to India's Nagaland where Myanmar revolutionaries were allowed to stay in camps. It was here, in drawings on the forest floor, that he was taught art, and the history of art, by an artist from Mandalay, Sitt Nyein Aye. They had philosophical discussions about possible paths to freedom in Myanmar. While Sitt Nyein Aye thought that the artist’s path was the only method, Htein Lin believed, as many Gen Z rebels in Myanmar still do today, that military violence had to be defeated with violence.

In 1991 India's policy changed and Htein Lin shifted to another student rebel camp inside Myanmar but near the Chinese border. It was to be a fateful decision. There one group tortured their fellow students for months, accusing them of being informants. Htein Lin eventually managed to escape, but around thirty-five of his fellow captives did not. Many were executed by their own “comrades”. Having learned the hard way that violence breeds violence, Htein Lin recalled what Sitt Nyein Aye had taught him in the forest camp, and chose the life of an artist.

Escaping from captivity across the Chinese border, only to be captured again and handed over to the Myanmar military regime, Htein Lin was able to return to university, to complete his law degree and to dedicate himself to his artistic work. But in 1998, he was one of a large group summarily arrested by the military on spurious charges of planning to organise a protest, and was sentenced to seven years.

During imprisonment, Htein Lin was determined to continue his life as an artist. He arranged to have paint smuggled into the jail. Brushes were more difficult, so he took to printing, using the wheel of a cigarette-lighter, old fishing nets and scraps of plastic, plates, soap, and discarded blister packs to make the paintings selected here. In the absence of canvas, he painted on white cotton prison-issue uniforms. His works, which described prison life, were smuggled out to his family by the guards he befriended. After his imprisonment the “prison paintings” were exhibited once in Myanmar and then taken out of the country to safety. The series carries the number given to him by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) when they visited him in Mandalay prison: 000235.

I still recall this philosophical debate between the two artists in the forest, as it is also a question of whether to resist, and if to resist, then what path to choose, violence or non-violence. What is the price of violence, and what is at stake in pacifism? What is the path of the artist that Sitt Nyein Aye defined? What kind of change does artistic thinking bring?

Zasha Colah, Curator of the 13th Berlin Biennale for Contemporary Art

The Berlin Biennale for Contemporary Art is funded as a “Cultural Beacon“ by the Kulturstiftung des Bundes (German Federal Cultural Foundation) since 2008.

A piece of white fabric with frayed edges. Printed on it in blue with small details in green and red. In the centre of the image is a row in which a motif is repeated: a figure sitting with legs drawn up and head tucked into a box. The figure is schematic, with a red eye visible. Above the row of figures in boxes is a kind of border with a chain of circles. Above that are ornamental bundles in blue, containing green and red dots. In the lower half of the image are two blue lines, one straight and one curved. To the right above the blue lines is an inscription in green: htein Lin Oct 1999. To the left below the blue lines is an inscription in blue and capital letters: Shadow of Hope.

Shadow of hope

Soap block print, vinyl paint on cotton, 41 x 38 cm, 1999

In prison we were provided with rectangular blocks of yellow government made soap. I persuaded some of my cellmates to give me theirs so that I could experiment with carving and using it for print making. One day we heard that the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) would be visiting us. I wasn’t sure whether they could speak Burmese, so I carved a figure cramped in a cell. I offered it to the visitor, who said loudly that he couldn’t accept anything, while silently pointing to his bag. The soapblock is now in the ICRC Museum in Geneva.

The ICRC allocated us numbers: mine was 000235.

Htein Lin

A rectangular piece of fabric with uneven edges in landscape format. It is printed in brown and green. At first glance, it looks like a pattern of angular green lines forming a kind of labyrinth; in the empty spaces between them are brown circles with various patterns. On closer inspection, faces can be seen in the brown circles, which look like masks with strong facial expressions. The mouths are open, revealing large, straight teeth with gaps, like bars. The green labyrinth-like lines are covered with a pattern of crosses, as if they were wrapped branches. The ends of the wide green lines fray into thin spirals. In some places, small white lines can be seen on the green lines, reminiscent of the stitches of a scar or staples holding something together. In the centre of the picture is written in green: htein Lin 26072001.

Gloomy room 3

Vinyl paint on cotton, 165 x 91 cm, 2001

This work shows the mono-print technique using a plate for the faces of the prisoners in their cells. Their eyes and mouths are barred. Their feet and arms, which I printed using the plastic insert from a shirt collar, form the walls of their cells.

Htein Lin

A rectangular, elongated piece of fabric with uneven edges. Several narrow, curved lines in green are printed on the fabric, interspersed with green, rust-red and brown organic patterns. The lines run in circles, snakes or spirals along the entire length of the fabric and repeat themselves unevenly next to each other. The small patterns fill the spaces between and nestle against the lines: there are red, brown and green circles, which in turn are composed of small round and straight lines. Inside the circles, they form triangles or squares. There are also larger, flat patterns that look like water, branches, roots or woven fabric. Some of the ornamental shapes are reminiscent of scales, wings, eyes or beaks. At the bottom right of the image is the inscription: htein lin 02062001.

Mosaic bird

Vinyl paint on cotton, 170 x 86 cm, 2001

This is a semi-abstract painting using fragments of glass to create the prison gates. The base of a metal plate, and my lentil soup (dahl) bowl were used to print the circular shapes. I painted with a mixture of vinyl house paint, brought to me by prison guards for whom all paint was much the same, mixed with glue. I also used a small mirror and the tops of toothpaste tubes, and squirted lines representing freedom with a syringe smuggled from the prison hospital. ln the painting you can see flies and other winged bodies.

Htein Lin

An uneven, spiral-shaped circle is depicted in the centre of a square piece of fabric, consisting of blue, pink, light green and ochre yellow lines. Looking closely, one can see a person sitting inside the circle with their legs crossed and their hands resting on their thighs. The person looks emaciated: their neck, chest, arms and legs consist of thin red lines that protrude like tendons or bones. The large round eyes are only hinted at as cavities in a skull resembling a skull. They appear frightened, tormented or desperate. Around the figure, dark grey and black areas fill the space between the circle lines. At the bottom right is an inscription: htein lin, 9.10.1999, self torture for six years. The word ‘for’ is crossed out once and has been rewritten above it.

Self-torture for six years

1999

This painting is inspired by an episode from the life of Buddha, when he meditated and subjected himself to great austerities for six years in the quest for enlightenment, living in a cave at Dungeswari (Mahakala), 12km from Bodhgaya. It is said that he fasted on only one grain of rice a day until he could feel his backbone, when he held his stomach. He would also sit on thorn bushes. At that time, he came close to death. He then realized that all his austerities were counterproductive to his discovering the truth, and strove instead for the Middle Way.

Htein Lin

A square piece of fabric with frayed edges. The motif on it fills the format to the edges. It is an elongated head from which long stems with thorns protrude in all directions, as if from a flower vase. Instead of flowers, there are blue and grey shadowy skulls at the tips of the stems. Yellow and red dots indicate eyes and mouths on these skulls. Across the stems are impressions of razor blades in less opaque paint. Scattered across the image are individual red splashes, like bloodstains. At the bottom of the image is written in blue: The escaping soul. In the lower right corner is written: htein Lin 27 Oct 99.

The escaping soul

Vinyl paint on cotton, 43 x 43 cm, 1999

This painting was made in Mandalay Jail on one of my own old longyis.* In the lower hem of the longyi, where it wouldn’t be found in a search, was a small pocket for hiding papers, and this became the face in the painting. I printed the blue skulls with carved soap, and used a lighter and razor blades to print other elements.

* Traditional wrap dress in Myanmar (editor's note)

Htein Lin

A wide piece of fabric in landscape format with uneven edges. On it, lines in red and green form three figures in curved poses. The structure of their arms and legs is reminiscent of bast fibres, their fingers and toes fraying into small spirals. The figures are connected by their long arms, which they place on each other's shoulders or around each other's necks. The arms appear to chain the figures together. They wear rings around their ankles. Lines run across their entire bodies, resembling intestines or ribs in the torso. The faces are mask-like with large eyes and open mouths, in which individual straight teeth resemble bars. At the bottom right is written in red: htein lin 31072001.

Return from the chain gang

Vinyl paint on cotton, 130 x 64 cm, 2001

Criminal prisoners, but not political prisoners, if they could not buy their way out of it or self-injure themselves to be exempted, would be sent out for hard labour, shackled with chains around their waists and ankles. When—or rather if—they returned, they would be emaciated.

Htein Lin

The image is painted in portrait format on a rectangular piece of fabric and is in dark blue, black and dark red. It shows a dark red, half-open circle on a stand like the base of a globe. Red paint runs down the stand like blood. A blue-black flower vase stands in the semicircle. Stems, also in blue-black, are stuck in it. These stems have thorns and only two leaves, which resemble eyes. Instead of flowers, skulls hang from the stems, in the same colour but with a reddish-brown shade around the edges. The eye sockets and noses are criss-crossed with fine white lines. At the bottom right of the picture is written in dark red: htein lin 22012003.

War and peace

Vinyl paint on cotton, 91 x 145 cm, 2003

This painting started off as a pencil drawing for one of our prison magazines. I was illustrating a poem by my friend and cellmate, the poet Maung Tin Thit. His poem reflected on how World War II bomb casings were traditionally used as flower vases on Buddha altars in Burma. Nowadays, even though original casings are no longer available, potters make the vases in the same shape. His poem recalled the unknown numbers of dead caused by these bombs. My painting includes roses with flowers like skulls and weeping leaves, and blood dripping from the altar. I used a toothbrush and a correction pen for the white outlines in the skulls.

Htein Lin

A square piece of fabric. A seated young woman and a toddler standing in front of her, roughly sketched in the lower middle part of the fabric, fill slightly more than half of the picture. The rest of the picture is unpainted, except for a few small splashes of colour. The woman is wearing blue clothes and black braids that fall onto her chest. She is sitting at a sewing machine and working on a green piece of fabric with her hands. The coloured objects only show coloured dots, no areas of colour. The expression on the woman's face, with her round, open mouth, appears concerned and is turned towards the viewer, as if she were looking at them or wanted to say something. The child is wearing a red skirt and a yellow top and is holding on to the woman's leg with her arm outstretched. She is looking in the same direction, seemingly out of the picture. Her open mouth could represent a smile or a cry. In the upper left corner, a combination of numbers is written illegibly, and in the lower right corner is the inscription: htein lin 5.4.2000.

Waiting for father

Oil paint on cotton, 44 x 46 cm, 2000

On 31 May 1998, the authorities came at midnight to arrest me in the small house where I lived with my wife, who worked as a seamstress. My 18-month old daughter was asleep. I painted “Waiting for Father” almost two years after my arrest, imagining my family waiting for me to return. Their standing in the neighbourhood would be diminished by being a fatherless family, so I painted this picture small. I used a stick, and oil paints. The cotton came from a thin shirt and was hard to paint on.

Htein Lin