Thursday, July 31, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
The Art of Defiance
Despite a censorship crackdown, Burma's underground artists are determined to get their message out.
In a simple studio tucked into the shadows of a wealthy Rangoon neighborhood, a leading member of Burma's underground political art movement lights a Red Ruby cigarette, smoke curling into the hollows of his cheeks. Thein Soe (not his real name) is 61 years old and probably weighs less than 100 pounds. The paintings spread across the studio walls, desk and floor could bring a prison sentence in this military dictatorship, where freedom of expression has not existed for 46 years, since the military took power in a coup. "It's very difficult to show our inner sense, our expression," says Soe. "There are many censors for art here."
Things took a turn for the worse in September, when an uprising of monks and civilians was crushed by the military. Poets, bloggers and comedians have been targeted in the last few months for their political commentary. Arrests are more frequent. Despite the crackdown, Burma's underground political art movement is growing. In secret, artists buy and sell portraits of the detained democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi and share ideas and inspiration. Young artists are also joining the fold. For lack of traditional materials, several youths have turned to installation and performance art to speak their minds. One young man recently walked a busy street with a birdcage on his head before dropping it and fleeing. "We paint what we suffer and what we feel," says Soe, speaking for a group of a dozen or so master artists. "It's very dangerous for us."
Across town Rangoon's latest music sensation, emcee J-Me, also deals with daily censorship of his work. Spoon-deep in a bowl of pasta at a trendy café, J-Me is proof that Burma's xenophobic government is no match for the globalization of popular culture. Officially, U.S. sanctions prevent American exports to Burma, but hip-hop is difficult to stop at the borders. "It's a big thing for us," says J-Me, who is dressed in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, with a fake diamond bling watch and a crucifix around his neck. "It may not be a big thing for everyone outside, but we've created the Myanmar Hip-Hop Association. Not the sissy-ass songs that you dance to on TRL [a pop hits show on MTV], you know what I'm sayin'? The real Wu-Tang stuff."
Burmese hip-hop may be slightly old-school in style and struggling to define itself, but it's sweeping the nation nevertheless. Teashop stereos that were locked into '80s hair metal for two decades are now thumping a different beat. The rapping of J-Me and his friends is revolutionary in that unlike other musicians who sing in refined, polite Burmese, these emcees rap in the slang of the streets.
For the hip-hoppers, of course, political lyrics are out of the question. "Hip-hop just started here," says J-Me's fellow emcee Bigg-Y. "If we go and rap about politics, they'll stop us." Rapper G-Tone was arrested two months ago when he revealed a tattoo on his back that included images of folded palms and prayer beads. G-Tone insists the design was inspired by the Joker hip-hop clothing line, but the police thought it was a symbol for September's monk-led Saffron Revolution. They let him go but banned him from performing for a year. Censors are paying particular attention to lyrics after September's uprisings. "They watch my lyrics with a big magnifying glass," J-Me says.
The government mouthpiece, the New Light of Myanmar, ran an editorial in January denouncing the Western influences changing the face of Burma. It warned the youth to "stay away from decadent costumes, words incompatible with Myanmar [Burmese] custom, and behaviors that lack modesty." The booty girls in Burmese hip-hop videos, which are bought and sold in pirated copies on the streets of Rangoon, dance with their midriffs and miniskirts digitally blurred.
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."
In a simple studio tucked into the shadows of a wealthy Rangoon neighborhood, a leading member of Burma's underground political art movement lights a Red Ruby cigarette, smoke curling into the hollows of his cheeks. Thein Soe (not his real name) is 61 years old and probably weighs less than 100 pounds. The paintings spread across the studio walls, desk and floor could bring a prison sentence in this military dictatorship, where freedom of expression has not existed for 46 years, since the military took power in a coup. "It's very difficult to show our inner sense, our expression," says Soe. "There are many censors for art here."
Things took a turn for the worse in September, when an uprising of monks and civilians was crushed by the military. Poets, bloggers and comedians have been targeted in the last few months for their political commentary. Arrests are more frequent. Despite the crackdown, Burma's underground political art movement is growing. In secret, artists buy and sell portraits of the detained democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi and share ideas and inspiration. Young artists are also joining the fold. For lack of traditional materials, several youths have turned to installation and performance art to speak their minds. One young man recently walked a busy street with a birdcage on his head before dropping it and fleeing. "We paint what we suffer and what we feel," says Soe, speaking for a group of a dozen or so master artists. "It's very dangerous for us."
Across town Rangoon's latest music sensation, emcee J-Me, also deals with daily censorship of his work. Spoon-deep in a bowl of pasta at a trendy café, J-Me is proof that Burma's xenophobic government is no match for the globalization of popular culture. Officially, U.S. sanctions prevent American exports to Burma, but hip-hop is difficult to stop at the borders. "It's a big thing for us," says J-Me, who is dressed in baggy shorts and a T-shirt, with a fake diamond bling watch and a crucifix around his neck. "It may not be a big thing for everyone outside, but we've created the Myanmar Hip-Hop Association. Not the sissy-ass songs that you dance to on TRL [a pop hits show on MTV], you know what I'm sayin'? The real Wu-Tang stuff."
Burmese hip-hop may be slightly old-school in style and struggling to define itself, but it's sweeping the nation nevertheless. Teashop stereos that were locked into '80s hair metal for two decades are now thumping a different beat. The rapping of J-Me and his friends is revolutionary in that unlike other musicians who sing in refined, polite Burmese, these emcees rap in the slang of the streets.
For the hip-hoppers, of course, political lyrics are out of the question. "Hip-hop just started here," says J-Me's fellow emcee Bigg-Y. "If we go and rap about politics, they'll stop us." Rapper G-Tone was arrested two months ago when he revealed a tattoo on his back that included images of folded palms and prayer beads. G-Tone insists the design was inspired by the Joker hip-hop clothing line, but the police thought it was a symbol for September's monk-led Saffron Revolution. They let him go but banned him from performing for a year. Censors are paying particular attention to lyrics after September's uprisings. "They watch my lyrics with a big magnifying glass," J-Me says.
The government mouthpiece, the New Light of Myanmar, ran an editorial in January denouncing the Western influences changing the face of Burma. It warned the youth to "stay away from decadent costumes, words incompatible with Myanmar [Burmese] custom, and behaviors that lack modesty." The booty girls in Burmese hip-hop videos, which are bought and sold in pirated copies on the streets of Rangoon, dance with their midriffs and miniskirts digitally blurred.
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."
50 Cent: “Young Buck Is No Longer In G-Unit”
50 Cent has made it clear about the status of Young Buck, one of his artists who has had a shaky relationship with the company for several months. 50 Cent revealed today that the Tennessee rapper was no longer in G-Unit the group, but would still record for the label.
“You can look at it and see that’s Game [former G-Unit rapper] all the way. I was giving him a chance, giving him the benefit of the doubt [to remain with the group]. You can take this as an official notice right here – pretty much you can say: Young Buck is no longer in the group G-Unit, but signed to G-Unit [Records] as a solo artist,” 50 Cent told DJ Envy, a co-host on the Hot 97 Morning Show with Miss Jones.
Most recently, Young Buck revealed that he had not collected any royalty income as an artist on G-Unit Records, a subsidiary of Interscope. Those reports were quickly dispelled by Sha Money XL, manager of Young Buck, who said the rapper was “waving the G-Unit flag strong.”
“There has been a new rumor going around that 50 Cent has not paid Young Buck any royalties,” Sha Money XL told AllHipHop.com. “I, as Buck’s manager and as former President of G-Unit Records, want to make it clear: that is false. Young Buck has cleared over $10 million dollars working under 50 Cent’s and my guidance.”
Young Buck, born David Darnell Brown, was expected to appear on Shoot to Kill, the follow up to G-Unit’s 2003 debut album titled Beg For Mercy.
Young Buck once was to lead the charge for 50 Cent’s G-Unit Sout imprint. Instead, the rapper started Cashville Records and signed rap vet C-Bo and The Outlawz, who were a part of Tupac’s inner circle of emcees.
But has also started David Brown clothing to supplement his rap offerings.
50 Cent and The Game initially parted ways, because the Compton upstart wouldn’t assume beefs with Nas and Fat Joe that the rest of G-Unit had declared.
“You can look at it and see that’s Game [former G-Unit rapper] all the way. I was giving him a chance, giving him the benefit of the doubt [to remain with the group]. You can take this as an official notice right here – pretty much you can say: Young Buck is no longer in the group G-Unit, but signed to G-Unit [Records] as a solo artist,” 50 Cent told DJ Envy, a co-host on the Hot 97 Morning Show with Miss Jones.
Most recently, Young Buck revealed that he had not collected any royalty income as an artist on G-Unit Records, a subsidiary of Interscope. Those reports were quickly dispelled by Sha Money XL, manager of Young Buck, who said the rapper was “waving the G-Unit flag strong.”
“There has been a new rumor going around that 50 Cent has not paid Young Buck any royalties,” Sha Money XL told AllHipHop.com. “I, as Buck’s manager and as former President of G-Unit Records, want to make it clear: that is false. Young Buck has cleared over $10 million dollars working under 50 Cent’s and my guidance.”
Young Buck, born David Darnell Brown, was expected to appear on Shoot to Kill, the follow up to G-Unit’s 2003 debut album titled Beg For Mercy.
Young Buck once was to lead the charge for 50 Cent’s G-Unit Sout imprint. Instead, the rapper started Cashville Records and signed rap vet C-Bo and The Outlawz, who were a part of Tupac’s inner circle of emcees.
But has also started David Brown clothing to supplement his rap offerings.
50 Cent and The Game initially parted ways, because the Compton upstart wouldn’t assume beefs with Nas and Fat Joe that the rest of G-Unit had declared.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
free burma's political prisoners now
For decades the people of Burma have suffered from socio-economic hardship and severe oppression of political and civil rights by its brutal military regime. A fuel price hike in August 2007 has sparked protests that are the largest and most sustained in Burma since 1988. The price hike has had a devastating effect on the livelihoods of the Burmese people, many of whom live under the poverty line and struggle for daily survival. The popular uprising in August and September 2007 was an expression of long felt desperation and strong will for change among the Burmese people, but once again the military regime showed its repressive and dictatorial nature by brutally killing and arresting the peaceful protesters. There are over 7,000 people detained during and after the protests. Among those detainees were 13 leaders of ‘the 88 Generation Students’ who previously served long jail sentences, surviving torture and solitary confinement. The International Committee for the Red Cross (ICRC), which monitors prison conditions in many conflict settings, has not been able to visit Burmese prisons since late 2005 because authorities have prevented visits in accordance with the ICRC’s usual procedures that include carrying out private interviews with detainees, is still unable to visit the detainees.
The despair of the Burmese people, as well as the regime’s violent way of silencing all political opposition, were already known to the international community, following the popular uprising in 1988. When the people of Burma once more took to the streets in September 2007 and the regime again crushed their aspirations for change with brutal violence, Governments around the world, as well as different UN agencies, unanimously condemned the violent actions of the Burmese regime.
Nevertheless, the Burmese military regime has not yet shown the will to engage in meaningful dialogue for national reconciliation, and effective measures to pressure the generals into cooperation remain to be found.
Therefore, we need support from members of the international community and people all over the world by calling the Burma’s military regime for immediate and unconditional release of all political prisoners.
The despair of the Burmese people, as well as the regime’s violent way of silencing all political opposition, were already known to the international community, following the popular uprising in 1988. When the people of Burma once more took to the streets in September 2007 and the regime again crushed their aspirations for change with brutal violence, Governments around the world, as well as different UN agencies, unanimously condemned the violent actions of the Burmese regime.
Nevertheless, the Burmese military regime has not yet shown the will to engage in meaningful dialogue for national reconciliation, and effective measures to pressure the generals into cooperation remain to be found.
Therefore, we need support from members of the international community and people all over the world by calling the Burma’s military regime for immediate and unconditional release of all political prisoners.
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