My Own Words: Beyond Trauma
On Myanmar art during the Spring Revolution 2021
By Diana Zaw Win
'My Own Words' is a monthly series which features personal essays by practitioners in the Southeast Asian art community. They deliberate on their locality's present circumstances, articulating observations and challenges in their respective roles.
This essay is the first of a two-part special in our ‘My Own Words’ series. Click here to read Chalermsilp Chalearmsanyakorn’s essay on art and digital resistance in Thailand.
Disclaimer: The images used are those circulated in the public domain and social media. For the safety of the artists during this time, artist names have been removed for anonymity.
The poster translates, “FEAR-AGE MAN: the age where we only believe the little we see and can’t speak up the truth is called fear-age.” The usual way to spell “Kyauk kit Lu-thar” is “ကျောက်ခေတ်လူသား” which means “Stone Age Man” but by changing the spelling to “ကြောက်ခေတ်လူသား”, the same pronunciation becomes “Fear-Age Man.” A simple pun astutely highlighted the state of Myanmar during the military coup: an age of fear with basic human rights revoked; a nation reverting back to the stone age as the state restricts access to the internet and other essential resources. ‘Fear-Age Man’ (2021) is one of the many artworks during Myanmar’s 2021 Spring Revolution that displayed the ironic humor and resistance against the military coup by utilising uniquely Burmese elements.
Since the first military coup in 1962, state-sponsored crackdowns and massacres occur once every ten or so years. So, when the coup happened on 1 February 2021, Myanmar was not surprised. Rather, the moment was an awakening—a sudden realisation of self-worth, and a wake-up call for a decisive change.
Like other Southeast Asian countries that have gone through violent political tragedies, Myanmar is a nation traumatised. Despite the five recent years of makeshift democracy, Myanmar has yet to properly reconcile decades worth of collective trauma. Due to the lack of official historicisation of recent political events, and the extreme need to archive national tragedies and commemorate the sacrifices, many artists have used art to express the nation’s trauma.
Trauma art of Myanmar is awkward, because in order for it to survive in the international arena, it is obligated to condense its heavy content into a few short descriptions and time-limited presentations. This also imposed an immense burden on the artists as the story of the past seemed endless: a twenty-minute performance art will never be enough to cover a century-long story of trauma to an audience who has little or no knowledge of the country and circumstances in question. The contemporary art world of Myanmar has been trapped in a never-ending cycle of displaying grotesque themes to garner compassion and recognition from the international community. For a nation so isolated, this portrayal of the Burmese condition seemed to be the only way to not be forgotten by the world. Such representations, however, have done little to actually reconcile Myanmar with its past.
What has happened during the Spring Revolution of 2021 was that this dependency on an external saviour changed especially amongst the younger generations. This zeitgeist is promptly manifested in artworks created during this time. Before, art in Myanmar took a more passive and reactionary role. Now, during the revolution, art has become the people’s weapon, actively leading the movement forward, and embodying the people’s confidence and resilience in the face of unspeakable terror.
The following posters are highlights of some of the artworks that have been circulating within the country.
The poster translates, ‘Modern Angulimāla’ (2021) referring to an important figure in Theravada Buddhism. Angulimāla was a ruthless bandit whose life mission was to collect a thousand human forefingers. The fingers around the skeletal general in the poster, however, are stained little-fingers. The stains are electoral stains that are used in the Burmese elections. Election fraud was the poorly planned claim the military used as an excuse for the coup.
This poster criticises the ineffectiveness of the United Nations (UN) and the population’s initial reluctance for an armed revolt from within. Right after the coup, Myanmar people desperately hoped for the implementation of the UN Security Council’s Responsibility to Protect (R2P). However, despite the daily massacres, R2P never came. The blue rhinoceros represents the UN. The red represents those who still believe in UN intervention.
‘Five Twos Revolution (22.2.2021)’ (2021) was the largest nationwide anti-coup rally. The selected date was in honour of its predecessor, “Four Eights Revolution (8.8.1988)” Both dates portray the Burmese people’s superstitious belief in numerical sets.
‘Don’t go to work. Go to heaven’ (2021) portrays the four major religions of Myanmar uniting against the military. Buddha signals the 3-finger salute for pro-democracy. Vishnu bangs pots and pans, the nation’s nightly 8pm anti-coup activity. Jesus says, “Be kind to one another EXCEPT dictators,” and Allah says, “Peace be upon everybody EXCEPT the military.”
These posters are a few of the many examples which prove that for the first time in Myanmar history, contemporary art, which previously had been an isolated subculture, has fully amalgamated into the daily lives of the ordinary Burmese people and inspiring them, instead of only catering to the international world. Despite the dire situation, Myanmar, as well as its contemporary art scene, is finally moving forward, embracing the past, resisting the present injustices, and fostering hope towards a deserving brighter future.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect those of A&M.
Read all My Own Words essays here.
About the Author
Diana Zaw Win (pseudonym) studied Art History, Theory and Criticism in the United States. Upon returning to Myanmar, she found herself surviving under a brutal military coup.