MYURAN Sukumaran - drug smuggler, Bali nine member and death row prisoner - stares hard at himself in the mirror, then daubs a stroke of paint on canvas.
''Make it definite. Try to do it in one hit,'' advises Ben Quilty, an Archibald and Doug Moran prize-winning Australian artist, who sits at Sukumaran's side, squeezing paint onto his palette.
As sunlight streams through the window, it is easy to forget we are in Bali's high-security Kerobokan prison.
And it is hard to imagine that the man creating a self-portrait here could soon be looking down the barrels of an Indonesian firing squad's guns.
Prize-winning artist Ben Quilty (right) shares an insight with Bali nine member Andrew Chan.Credit: Jason Childs
Sukumaran and Andrew Chan, another of the Bali nine, are facing execution for their crime, and some Indonesian MPs have recently made statements about the need to kill 12 prisoners this year. (None have been executed since 2008.)
Both Australians have applied for clemency from President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono. As they await his decision, they are trying to demonstrate they are not the same stupid young men who came to Bali eight years ago to smuggle out eight kilograms of heroin.
Chan has put his hope into the prison church and writing. For Sukumaran, it is art.
Enter Ben Quilty, who was invited by Sukumaran's Australian supporters late last year to mentor the young man. Having recently returned from being a war artist in Afghanistan, Quilty jumped at the chance.
Myuran Sukumaran with two of his self-portraits.Credit: Jason Childs
''I wanted to meet Myu [Sukumaran] and wanted to give him just one happy day … and surprise, surprise, he was not this dark character out of Batman, but a young, shy, Australian man.''
Sukumaran, whose early introduction to art was doodling at school, is now organising the art studio for about 20 of the inmates and is the driving force behind a T-shirt printing operation. This earns enough from sales outside the prison to be self-sustaining. It also helps pay for a computer lab to bring tech skills to uneducated inmates.
''I'm using my organisational skills for good instead of evil,'' jokes Sukumaran, who is also doing a fine arts degree by correspondence with Curtin University.
It would be easy to think Sukumaran's work is put on for the clemency bid. But his pride in all these projects is clear. He says: ''Before I got arrested, I was never really good at anything. Zero skills or hobbies, no real direction in life. This has given me a purpose.''
He says painting ''gives you a sense of control'' in a place where prisoners have precious little. ''It helps me deal with the problems and stuff. Just quiet time.''
Since Quilty first visited last year, Sukumaran is aiming higher. He wants to enter a self-portrait for this year's Archibald prize.
It is a big leap, says Quilty, but it is possible. ''Myu is quite naturally talented.''
He is encouraging Sukumaran to paint self-portraits - ''the complete metaphor of looking at yourself in the mirror''.
About 16 prisoners - among them a tattooed, muscle-bound Balinese man, a quiet Iranian and several Thai women - turn up to Quilty's masterclass in art.
''It's the most multicultural art class I've given in my life,'' he says.
In Kerobokan, he sees parallels with the traumatised young soldiers he painted in Afghanistan.
''At 19, they make a decision to go into the army, and a lot of them will live to regret it. And it's exactly the same with Myu.''
Sukumaran, he believes, has reached a level of self-awareness about crime and punishment that gives his paintings profundity. ''I see sadness in him,'' he says.
For Sukumaran, art is about taking his mind off eight long years in prison, but it is also about the desire to keep growing.
''When I do a good painting, it's like you see yourself improving, you can make something that's good. When I do a bad one, I have sleepless nights. I have all these ideas in my head but my skill level is not up to it.''
At the end of two days of lessons, Sukumaran has produced a work that Quilty is happy to take with him. He will enter it in the Archibald.
Sukumaran, meanwhile, keeps working, though he knows he may never see the face in the mirror grow old.