One destination was particularly significant in crystallizing Fee Ming’s passion. It was Myanmar (Burma). He first made a foray in 1986 (As I was Walking in Pagan…, 1987), and another visit in 1992. He did not mean to paint much of Myanmar, a country then politically controversial and barely opened to visitors. The warm welcome given to the painting Mandalay, 1993 encouraged him to return a few times. “There was an exciting challenge,” he said, “the monochrome fabric of the robes of the monks, leaving only the hand and the feet visible, the simplicity of the scenes and the atmosphere of a world isolated from global fevers.”

Compared to Malaysia, Myanmar is a much bigger country. It has twice the number of inhabitants and five times the territory. From the eastern ranges of the Himalayas, two wide rivers, the Chindwinn and the Ayerawadi, flow to a large delta in the Bay of Bengal. It was not always isolated. Over the centuries, tribes and peoples from the north, the Mon, the Pyu, the Tais, the Bamar (the modern Burmese) and the Shan, rushed down towards the sea, in search of space and riches. Like Malaysia of old, Myanmar had been dubbed “Suvarnabumi”—the Land of Gold, because of its precious metal deposits—it also has rubies, diamonds, jade and forests with the best teakwood, bountiful harvests of rice in the southern deltas and an abundance of fish. Empires were built and crumbled. Kublai Khan invaded on his way to the southern lands; the British colonized to ensure peace on their Indian frontier. During World War II, Japanese, British and American soldiers fought and retreated heroically on what, for them, was the road to China. From time to time, Myanmar has been subjected to devastating earthquakes.