Still Life

 STILL LIFE

There is something foreboding in the walls of Pudu Prison in Kuala Lumpur. Although you may not notice it at first, it is the mural painted on the walls of this colonial era prison. Should you give it a second look, you will recognise it is more insidious than first perceived. 

It does not strike the senses the way the guard towers or swirling strands of barbed wire do. Even the zinc roofs and white-washed walls of the compound, for all their drab and sterile appearance, does not capture the horrible imprisonment. Nor does the corner depiction of the hangman's noose and the dadah caption on the prison wall: "DEATH! That's the mandatory sentence for dadah drug traffickers in Malaysia." 

While potent and sobering images, they do not begin to address the horrible sentence handed down upon these walls.  You many suppose too the artist did not realise it when he painted the mural. Surely his was not a work designed for deep impressions. It was not intended to be a DaVinci, a Picasso, a Warhol. 

Yet, here, at what has become one of Kuala Lumpur's busiest intersections, stands an image just as profound as any monument ever sculpted, ever painted by the great masters. Still, no one seems to really take notice of these walls. Not the motorist. Not the pedestrian. Not the inmate. To them, and perhaps even yourself, they are perceived as nothing more than that. They are prison walls, embellished with lush greenery, colourful flowers and flowing streams. Nothing you might consider out of the ordinary, unless you stop and study the mural.

And should you choose to do so, you just might detect the cruel irony. You may discover these images are all quite motionless. They are trapped in a two-dimensional world. They are imprisoned, if you will. They are bound to a still life with no reprieve, no hope of release, so long as the walls stand and the images remain.

© Breyel, Timm. "Still Life". All rights reserved.