The Lacquer Masters of Burma

"Look at it glow. Like a black pearl!" U Mio is excited and rightly so. His daughter -
"she will be the next me!" - has just spent three weeks on a masterpiece of lacquerware craftsmanship, patiently creating a bulbous vase small enough to fit in one hand. U Mio has decided it is too good for domestic use and earmarks it for a Canadian collector with a standing order for 'anything special'.

We are huddled in the dusty, rough-hewn doorway of his family 'factory', surrounded by some of his finest handmade lacquerware. Golden late-afternoon sunshine spills through the entrance and across the ornate vase I'm cradling. Indeed, its traditional orange and black colour scheme hints at translucence. Mythic figures dance across the bulb of the vase, getting lost in the shimmer; this is a true objet d'art (italics).

U Mio clasps his hands and looks up at me expectantly, discerning praise surely on my lips. And all I can say is, "Three weeks?!"

Eyes roll.

Burma's lacquerware is legendary; has always been. A thousand years ago when invading Mon, Rackhine, Siamese and the cultured Khmers of Angkor tried to grind the ancient Burmese capital of Bagan into submission, there was more at stake than political or martial superiority.

The lacquerware makers of Bagan reached a mythical status throughout the known Asian world. It was every neighbouring kingdom's aim to capture these revered artisans and bring them back as the war campaign's most prestigious loot.

And rightly so. In an age where stone was heavy and difficult to embellish, and wood, though easy to work with, was in all-too-common use by everyone, the ruling elite now craved something completely different - and prestigious. A new and wildly malleable material like lacquerware cast a spell on everybody who touched this incredibly light, delicate, yet durable material.

But few had the patience or knowledge to master this art. So the logic went, 'if we can't master it, we'll capture the masters of this art and make them ours.' Some modern historians have suggested that much of the ebb and flow across ancient Burma of people, ideas, and cultures that invariably follows in the wake of wars was in no small part because of this fixation neighbouring kingdoms had on, you guessed it, the lacquerware masters of Bagan. Of course, the masters themselves are happy to support this interpretation...

A thousand years later, the small community of Baganese lacquer makers are still there, unvanquished, pursuing their craft with the same single-minded obsession that kept their ancestors aloof from all the fuss around them.

These craftsmen live and work with their extended families in the tiny settlement of Myinkaba, on the sandy banks of the great Irrawaddy River in the dusty heart of Burma. And that is where I met U Moi.

A small, robust man in his sixties, with a weathered face like a plowed field, he is more of a teacher in love with his subject and the pedantry that goes with it, rather than a salesman.

"Did you know that the word 'lacquer' comes from the Old French word lacre (italics) for sealing wax? No? Did you know that lacquer resin is deadly poisonous when it is freshly harvested?" As we amble through his cluttered house-cum-factory towards his courtyard where a team of workers are scattered about, U Moi doesn't wait for answers. "Lacquer-work was one of the earliest industrial arts of Asia, you know."

True enough. It was developed in India, and was brought to Burma by Buddhist monks some15 centuries ago. Burmese lacquerware rose to prominence because as many as 40 coats of lacquer were applied to give it that irresistable glow. The wares were then decorated in color, gold, or silver and enhanced by engraving.

In the 17th century, the simplified technique known as 'japanning' was used to make Western European imitations of lacquerware. Commercial production of lacquerware in the 19th century resulted in a decline in quality worldwide - except in Burma.

Hidden in the shadows of modernisation, Burmese lacquerware masters continue to toil at their craft in much the same way as they always have. U Moi, with over 40 years' experience, is recognised as a virtuoso by his fellow villagers and international collectors alike. Wringing his hands again, he is plainly eager to show me the laborious step-by-step process of lacquerware making.