COMMENT The talented Lithuanian painter Ernest Zacharevic, based in Penang, has been described as “Malaysia’s answer to Banksy” , in reference to the renowned British graffiti artist whose identity remains a secret.

 

If Malaysia’s answer to political, subversive work that flaunts the law would be defined as a cheerful version with official permission to paint in the street, then Zacharevic’s work certainly would qualify.

 

The India Street Pedestrian Mall Committee in Kuching threatened action against anyone vandalising or littering near a recent Zacharevic work in the heritage district there. (One might hope first for action taken against littering on all streets or the rampant rubbish dumping in Sarawak’s rivers.)

 

Committee chairperson Wee Hong Seng was quoted as saying, “It is not easy to get an international artist to come and paint those artworks. They have become local attractions and must be protected.”

 

Zacharevic has reportedly rejected the Banksy label, while Banksy’s influence on him is pretty clear if one notes how, for example, his painting ‘Reaching Up’ seems to derive from Banksy’s illicitly created mural on a sexual health clinic of a naked man dangling outside the window of his lover and her angry husband.

 

Many of Zacharevic’s paintings depict a child reaching for a windowsill or door. Aside from ‘Reaching Up’, two others in Italy depict children reaching for a window or opening.

 

Feeding a tourist fetish

 

Indeed, Zacharevic’s works stage a long-standing aesthetic of Western tourist photography of the developing world: a picture of an impoverished yet cute child.

 

This aesthetic somehow seems to be on the same wavelength of another facet of Zacharevic’s work: the fetish for impoverished yet visually rich buildings on the verge of ruin.

 

Zacharevic does not paint on the new development schemes throughout Malaysia. He seeks out heritage buildings - places that “must be protected” but often are not.

 

What is astounding is the public support that has been given to him, in this case, essentially, to sanctioned graffiti on disappearing heritage. Architecture, it seems so many forget, is also art, albeit perhaps a more institutional form of art on the street.

 

Street art like that of Banksy and other anonymous graffiti artists throughout the world exists in the street and confronts its rules and dangers. In Kuching, a real estate developer closed down a section of one of the few remaining footpaths in town to erect a tent to shade Zacharevic and his assistants from the sun as he painted.

 

Zacharevic’s chief encounter with controversy in retrospect seems a matter of coincidence with a local news cycle: a painting of a Lego-mugger about to attack a Lego-resident of Johor Baru from behind a corner.

 

Kuching town has been the site of the local police’s more public programmes. The Kuching police even have a Facebook page on which they eagerly post pictures of young people detained who have not yet been tried in court.

 

The intended message appears to be that naughty youth up to no good will be punished, unless you are a young tourist doing graffiti just steps away from the police station. That is okay then.

 

The Lego mugger motif - like many others of Zacharevic’s – has been repeated. In Italy, it is titled ‘Toy Mafia’ . He also replicated a version of the famous street art object ‘Obey’, translating it to ‘Patuh’ while vacating any sense of interpretation or subtlety by simply replacing Andre the Giant’s face with that of the Malaysian prime minister.

 

Zacharevic’s popularity has led to copies by others in Malaysia of his site-specific, three-dimensional paintings. For example, in Miri, Sarawak, tourists are invited to pose in front of a painting of the Niah caves or with a girl in a boat outside Miri’s Handicraft Center.

 

Painting out of context

 

The street artist parachuted in and out of Kuching, engaging little with the specific context of Sarawak despite the notion that his work depends on context.

 

The paintings at a Bidayuh longhouse homestay - the Annah Rais longhouse - provide the most glaring examples. Ignoring the rich and unique boating craft integral to Sarawak riverine culture, the first one he painted essentially replicates two he had already done in Penang of children in sampans, one of which is at a homestay at Chew Jetty in Georgetown. But there are no sampans in the hot spring.

 

The next one seems more egregious: ‘Mamak in Blue’ . East Malaysia and West Malaysia have many significant cultural and demographic differences. While perhaps Zacharevic may find many mamak stalls in Penang, there are none in a Bidayuh village.

The first work he did in Sarawak comes closest to being relevant to the state in its depiction of orang utans. Again, like his painting of young human beings – they must be young orang utans.

 

At Jalan Power, adjacent to India Street, the mural features a sawed-off section of a wheelbarrow attached to a wall, and like one of his more famous paintings in Penang of two children on a bicycle, one can grab its handles. A similar schema is used in other locations - in Penang, of a child wearing a Chinese Communist helmet on a motorcycle, and in Johor Baru, of Lego men on a bicycle.

This device pitched as interactive again betrays the touristic enterprise of Zacharevic’s murals. Instead of engaging or appreciating a place, the tourist only poses for a photo in front of it.

Zacharevic’s works are designed to be posed with , and they have gained much publicity via social media. As they intersect with the three-dimensional world of their location, the passerby/spectator in turn has an entry into the space of the painting.

The poses will be done quickly - just long enough to get a photo to upload to your Facebook account, where it will perhaps remain in your friends’ feeds for a few hours before they move on to quickly glance at something else.

The meaning of a visual

While social media has played a positive role in increasing interest in photography, it also may run the risk of just simply increasing the amount of photographs, yet lacking any time spent on thinking about the meaning of a photograph.

The rush to pose with a wheelbarrow full of endangered species is an example of this accumulation of images without any sustained attention to their meaning. Presumably, Zacharevic was inspired by images of orangutan rehabilitation centres, where, because their legs are not strong enough to walk, young rescued orang utans are wheeled to the forest to practice using their limbs to climb.

This then is the scene one is recreating and inserting oneself into when one grabs the handle at India Street and poses for a picture. It is not a happy scene. As we know, the “people of the forest” are endangered, due in part to rapid deforestation in the name of so-called “development”. 

Zacharevic is clearly a gifted and creative artist, but his audience needs to ask more questions about his work, about its place in their towns, and about their engagement with it. For example, a stunningly embarrassing photo of someone posing with his Kuching work has already been publicized online: a wedding photo . Why would you dress up in your wedding gown to giddily smile next to a dying species?

DR CHARLES LEARY is a lecturer in film and cultural studies. He is from America and lives in Sarawak.