The Art of Defiance

The U.S. Embassy in Rangoon has helped Burma's artists. In December the embassy sponsored an art exhibit that featured Burmese and American painters. Diplomats, local artists and members of the public came. (The same exhibit will be shown later this year in San Francisco, where it will feature politically themed paintings that would not be tolerated by the censorship board in Burma.) Although the scope of U.S. Embassy projects is limited inside Burma, the Embassy carries on cultural exchange programs that feature American art and music. "We have good relations with the people of this country," says the U.S. chargé d'affaires for Burma, Shari Villarosa. "We want to have a full, open relationship with this country."

Last winter, Villarosa hosted a hip-hop show on the grounds of her private residence in Rangoon. The American hip-hop group Timeless Voices of America performed, as part of the State Department's Rhythm Road program, which sponsors American music abroad. J-Me and some of his friends rapped alongside. "Basically, we don't censor art in the United States," Villarosa says. "This is a means of communication for the artists with the people. They have something to say, and we're interested in what they have to say."

Even with government censors looking over their shoulders, Burma's artists have found ways of getting their message through. Some political art pieces are made in private and sent out of the country to be displayed in international galleries. Other pieces are just subtle enough to escape censorship. One artist recently made a clay sculpture of a lock and key—"the key that will be used to unlock Burma's future," he says. He plans to tell the censors it signifies men and women. But the consequences of being found out are serious. In January a poet was sent to jail for a hidden message in a love poem he printed in a Rangoon daily newspaper. The message read: "Gen. Than Shwe is crazy with power."

Every painting displayed in a gallery or shop in Burma must first pass the scrutiny of the ministry of information's censorship board. Any sign of discontent or disloyalty to the government, or an unseemly political message can shut down the gallery and land the artist in jail. Musicians have to explain their lyrics to the censorship board before they can record. Policemen attend concerts to make sure nothing unsavory slips out onstage. The censors' scrutiny is especially severe after September's Saffron Revolution. Many artists, however, remained determined. "Artists have a responsibility to their people and country to express what happens," says one artist in Rangoon whose brother was jailed for 11 years and whose uncle died behind bars, both for their political poetry. "We are not angry; we are sad. All of these years have been wasted time."

© 2008