Dali House

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Last October “Doo Phra”, the oil painting above by Thailand’s Warthit Sembut, won one of the Young Thai Artist Awards meted out annually by the cultural foundation established by Siam Cement, one of the country’s leading corporations and one with deep royal connections. The foundation invited Warthit to bring his family to the awards presentation in Bangkok; his parents drove all the way from Chiang Rai in the far north to attend.

When they got to the venue, they found an empty frame dangling among the other prize-winning works.

The foundation, supposedly made of concrete, had collapsed at the mere possibility that Warthit’s painting would draw complaints for its depiction of Buddhist monks sinning — they’re lustily looking over amulets. The Buddha advised us to detach ourselves from material things and be free of desire. For the clergy who carry his message to be coveting superstitious trinkets is surely a dual sin.

The title of the painting, “Doo Phra”, means “monks watching” or, if you turn the translation slightly, “watch the monks”.

The Siam Cement Foundation had reason to worry about complaints. The month previous there’d been an unholy row over another painting that showed monks in a bad light. Anupong Chanthorn’s “Bhikku Sandan Ka” — meaning “Monks With Traits of a Crow”, a phrase the Buddha used — won the gold prize at the 2007 National Artist Awards and was displayed at host Silpakorn University. This one depicted two squatting monks with the beaks of crows and in the company of crows.

A storm descended on the campus. Dozens of monks and scores of laymen from Buddhist universities staged a series of protest rallies, demanding that the university withdraw the award and remove the painting from the show because it insulted the clergy. Some protesters wreathed a photo of Anupong and, as it was incinerated, monks chanted a funeral prayer.

The soundbites for the TV news came from a leader of the People’s Network to Protect the Nation, Religion and the Monarchy. This group had been involved in the summer rallies outside Government House where the drafters of Thailand’s new constitution were prodded to include a passage declaring Buddhism the national religion. Several monks staged a hunger strike to underscore how much this meant to them.

They stopped when Her Majesty the Queen, clearly endorsing the belief upheld in every Thai constitution that the King is the defender of all religions in Thailand, including Islam and Christianity, said in her birthday speech that Buddhism shouldn’t be involved with politics. Politics was at work in this demand for a “national” religion, 80% of Thais agreed, according to a poll. That fight would have to be put on hold until the election in December, and, the deposed prime minister’s proxy party having won it, we’ll see what the protectors of the old power structure, the old privileges and the old restrictions, do next.

A Nation photo of Anupong Chanthorn with another of his works.

In September at Silpakorn, a university dedicated to the fine arts, no one was backing down either. When the college and the organisers of the awards and exhibition refused to jettison Anupong and his crows, the protesters could only file a criminal lawsuit on a charge of defaming Buddhism. That too is in abeyance. If it does go to court, the judge will have to climb the mountain of scales that have fallen from the eyes of former believers. Too many Thai monks have been caught in vile circumstances for the traditional silence on the priesthood’s behaviour to be maintained any longer.

“Too many of the 250,000 to 300,000 monks in this country do not observe even the most rudimentary precepts required of lay Buddhists — let alone the 227 precepts that those who take up the saffron robe are supposed to observe,” The Nation said in an editorial. “Buddhist temples used to be centres of learning, and monks were the guardians of our cultural heritage, but many temples have turned into dens of iniquity.”

Warthit Sembut might have foreseen that “Doo Phra” would cause an uproar too, but in late October when he walked into the Esplanade to see his painting alongside the others chosen as the outstanding works of the year and found instead an empty frame, he said it “was like being punched in the face”.

The foundation told him he’d still get his plaque and a cash prize, but he felt like he was paying for trinkets with the hand in which he holds his brush. “The organisers said they are a private company, not a state organisation,” Warthit told The Nation, “and aren’t brave enough to exhibit works containing such sensitive and controversial messages.

“The organisers shouldn’t have panicked like this. They have made the Young Thai Artist Award meaningless because its intention was to promote youth creativity and freedom of thought. They did the exact opposite, so I have doubts about their real intention in initiating this award.”

And a few days later Warthit, accompanied by members of the Thai Artist Network, went to the offices of Siam Cement, handed back the trophy and cash and asked for his painting back. Also with them was Wasan Sithikhet, the leader of the Artist Party, which pops up now and then to ridicule the way things are done in Thailand and, occasionally, appeal for common sense. The party was on the ballot in the December election, though the votes cast in its favour were predictably negligible.

Below, Anupong Chanthorn’s “Ma-nus”, another prize-winner that made enemies, dogs becoming men in monks’ robes, nursing crows that toy with snakes.