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Interview | Bangkok-Based Artist Sutiphong Sudsang
Sutiphong Sudsang or Khet (1999, Thailand) is a contemporary artist who grew up in a Khmer ethnic family in Sisaket Province, Thailand. He currently lives and works in Bangkok. His practice is interdisciplinary, with a strong interest in experimenting with diverse artistic techniques and media, including sound, image, installation, and interactive media. Through these forms, he engages with historical, political, and structural power dynamics in society by exploring collective memory, belief systems, and the lived experiences of people in marginal spaces—particularly within the context of Thailand’s Northeastern region (Isan).
Sutiphong’s approach focuses on examining the relationship between individuals and historical traces that have been omitted from dominant historical narratives. He documents these traces through documentary photography and field recordings, which later inform the interpretation and production of his artistic works.
Selected works include Ties (2022), which received the Outstanding Award in Photography at the Young Thai Artist Award 2022, and Phi boon (2025), presented in the exhibition Merely Encountering the Evident at HOP – Hub of Photography, Bangkok. In addition, Sutiphong collaborates as part of an artist duo under the name “PLERN VERN,” focusing on sound-based and musical practices. Their works include Kwan Oei Kwan Maa (2025), presented at the 2nd Phimailongweek Art Festival, as well as ongoing live electronic music performances alongside their artistic practice.
Installation View: PLERN VERN “Kwan Oei Kwan Maa”, 2025, Site-Specific Installation: Sculpture and Sound, Dimensions variable Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I was born into an ethnic Khmer family living near the lower northeastern border of Thailand, in Sisaket Province, which is often said to be one of the poorest provinces in the country. When I was young, I was raised by my grandparents because my parents had to leave home and work labor jobs in the capital city. By the time they came back to live in our hometown, I was already a teenager.
As far as I can remember, I’ve loved art since I was a kid. Back then, my friends would always ask me to draw Japanese cartoon characters for them. Later, when I was in high school, I started playing music. I was really into the band Malihuana, and they became my biggest musical inspiration. Then I found out that Khai Malihuana, the singer of the band, had studied art at Silpakorn University. A lot of Thailand’s pioneering artists also graduated from there, since it was the first university in the country to offer art education. The moment I learned that, I didn’t hesitate at all—I knew I wanted to study there too.
Later, I got into the Faculty of Painting, Sculpture and Graphic Arts at Silpakorn University for my bachelor’s degree. That was where I learned not only about making art, but also about life. At that time, I still didn’t really know what kind of art suited me best. I was in the middle of figuring myself out. I basically said yes to everything—any project, any opportunity, I would take it.
Eventually, I realized that the things people asked me to do were often the things my classmates weren’t really doing, like lighting design, experimental music, photography, and so on. Most of the people around me were more focused on academic art practices. After doing those kinds of projects for a while, I started to feel pressure from my family, especially because graduation was getting close. The kind of art I was making wasn’t bringing in any income at all.
With one year left before graduating, I decided to start submitting my work to competitions. That year, I entered two competitions—and I won awards from both of them. I was so happy. From that moment on, I never doubted my decision to study art. My path as an artist became clearer and clearer, and so many opportunities came from choosing this life in art.
SA BAI DEE BOR, 2019, Acrylic, 300 x 100 cm, Nakorn Phathom, Thailand Many of your works explore historical traces and collective memory. How do you navigate the balance between documentation, interpretation, and artistic expression?
That’s a really good question. For me, it’s about how you manage your artistic practice. I think that’s where the charm of art really lies—there’s no fixed formula. Every artist has their own way of doing things. It sounds like a simple answer, but it’s actually not easy.
That’s why we often need a curator, or at least friends who truly understand us. I have one close friend that I hang out with all the time. We talk about both life and art. Sometimes I’ll ask him things like, “If I make work like this, how does it make you feel?” And sometimes friends can offer perspectives or ideas you’d never expect.
For me, researching history, going into the field, and seeing things firsthand are all really important. But then you have to transform all of that into something new—an artwork. My process is to first let all the information out. And honestly, you don’t need to study everything, just enough to truly understand it. Then I take it back in, process it again, and finally release it as a work that presents only an emotional experience.
When it comes to making art, you have to believe in what you’re doing and present it sincerely. To put it simply: you have to like your own work. That’s really it.
Ties, Digital and Film Photography, 2022 Can you describe how you approach experimentation in your work—how do new techniques or media emerge in your process?
I usually start with a technical area that I’m interested in or something I feel like exploring at that time. For me, the techniques I’m into can shift depending on the period. For example, I used to be really into graffiti, so I looked for ideas or issues to express through that form. One of my works from that time is called SA BAI DEE BOR. I painted that phrase on the street—it’s in the Lao-Isan language and means “How are you?” I hoped that people who are familiar with the language, especially those who have moved away from home, might come across it and be reminded of their hometown, their language, and the place they left behind.
When it comes to my process, I usually begin with a technique I want to try or learn first. Then, I experiment as much as I can whenever opportunities come up—whether it’s being invited to join an exhibition or applying for grants. Most of the time, there’s already a theme or a curatorial statement provided, so I start by interpreting that and gradually studying the context more deeply. From there, I gather ideas and material for the work, and then I combine them with the techniques I’m interested in.
Actually, I was first drawn to photography. I used to take photos of my friends and the landscapes around my village near the border. But over time, I became more interested in exploring different techniques and new forms of expression. Because of that, I moved beyond just traditional painting or sculpture and started experimenting more with materials and processes.
The stories from my hometown are very important in my work. In that area, there are traces of history and memories tied to the nation-state. So even though a landscape might look ordinary to others, for me it often brings up thoughts about past events that I’ve read about in history books. That curiosity eventually led me to develop my series Phi Boon (2025), which explores faith in religious figures known in Thai as Phu Mee Boon—people who claimed to be reincarnations of the Buddha.
The project actually started from a landscape image of a small mountain in the middle of a community called Phu Fai. At first, I was simply impressed by the image itself. There’s a temple on top, but at the base there’s a stone quarry and an open space used for drying cassava, which smells quite strong.
Then, that contrast made me start questioning things. It felt a bit contradictory. On one hand, the mountain plays an important role in the area’s development, but on the other hand, it creates dust and unpleasant smells. At the same time, there’s a temple sitting on top of it. So in a way, it becomes a place where faith and development coexist in the same space—which I found both curious and a bit ironic.
Because of that, I started looking more seriously into the history of the temple. That’s when I found out that the area used to be connected to a rebel movement during the period when Siam was undergoing political reform. On top of the mountain, there’s also an old stupa that has partly deteriorated, but even now, people still place stones on its base to make wishes.
This became the starting point for Phi Boon. Historically, these figures—Phu Mee Boon—gathered followers through religious teachings, telling people to worship stones and promising that one day those stones would turn into gold and silver. They also claimed that farmers wouldn’t need to work anymore, which eventually led to people abandoning their fields. As a result, they didn’t have enough rice or money to pay taxes, and this contributed to the formation of a rebellion.
So this body of work explores traces of history and belief systems that still exist today. Even now, people continue to use stones to make wishes, hoping for a better life in some way. The works include Bondage (2025), made from ceramic glazed in silver and installed with steel, and Forming Creating Dissolving (2025), a ceramic piece made from laterite clay—the same material found in the stupa—stacked in layers to reflect the act of making wishes.
At its core, my work is really about the border region where I come from. It contains fragments of history, and the way I present the work allows those fragments to connect with the present.
In general, my practice keeps changing depending on what I’m interested in at the time. Sometimes it’s very simple—I just like trying new things. It’s not really about being trendy or futuristic, but more about exploring something I’ve never done before, like ceramics, painting on different materials, experimenting with film photography, or screen printing. I think I enjoy this process because making something by hand and seeing it come to life reflects effort and intention. In a way, it feels like constantly challenging myself.
More recently, I’ve also become interested in new media, partly because I started making electronic music with a friend. That collaboration eventually developed into PLERN VERN, our artist duo focusing on sound art. My friend has a background in traditional Thai music, so he brings a strong understanding of cultural knowledge, while I’m more into new media and working with electronic devices. In a way, our practices naturally complement each other.
Also, on a personal level, I feel connected to this direction. When I was a kid, I liked taking toys apart and modifying them. At the same time, my father is an electronics technician—he runs a small mobile phone repair shop—so I grew up around that kind of environment. Because of that, working with new media feels quite natural to me. Another thing is that this field keeps evolving, and it opens up endless possibilities for further development—although, if you really try to keep up with technology, it can get exhausting.
Working as PLERN VERN has also given me more opportunities to experiment. For example, last year we were invited to present our work at the Phimai Long Week festival. Our piece, Kwan Oei Kwan Maa, came directly from this collaboration. We combined my friend’s musical knowledge with my background in visual art, blending the two equally.
The result was a sound-based interactive installation in the National Museum. The work responds to the audience—when people walk through the space, sensors trigger sounds recorded from traditional Khmer wind instruments. Because of that, it connects really well with the ancient Khmer artifacts displayed in the museum.
So in the end, the work talks about labor—both in the present and in the past—as well as movement and migration. It also reflects the journey of these artifacts, which have been brought from different places and are now preserved within the museum.
Phi Boon: Dry Season, 2025, B&W print on stainless steel sheet, 74.93 x 43.1 cm What role do you believe art plays in social and cultural change?
I believe that when art is used in a creative way and when we truly recognize its value, it has the power to change society and culture for the better. As someone who works in art, I can clearly see that art can be a source of emotional support for people.
Some artists might say, “Sure, that’s true for the audience or the viewer—but artists are the ones who have to carry all the exhaustion.” But I see it differently. For me, art is a craft. It takes time to grow, and one day it blooms and bears fruit.
Even if you use AI, if you have the heart of a creator and you’re willing to spend time with it—if you find joy in the process each day—then art can still be a good companion. It helps build focus and wisdom. And for those who are truly passionate about it, art can offer hope.
Bondage, 2025, Ceramic and metallic, 15 x 35 x 20 cm What challenges have you faced as an artist, and how have you overcome them?
As an artist who grew up in Thailand and working in contemporary art or new media technique comes with its own challenges. In Thailand, this kind of work is not really part of the mainstream art market, and there are only a small number of collectors interested in it. Sometimes that can feel discouraging.
But making art never disappeared from my life. I’ve continued applying for grants and funding opportunities to support my projects, which means I don’t always have to rely on my own money to keep creating.
Another thing that has been incredibly important for me is community and networks. Having a network matters a lot when it comes to growing as an artist. Through that, I can also use my artistic skills to work on commissioned projects for others—most of the time with fellow artists in the same circle. That can mean helping with production for artist friends, DJing at social events, or being involved in other art and music-related work.
Forming Creating Dissolving, 2025, Ceramic, 20 x 20 x 50 cm How do you manage feedback or criticism, especially in the context of public exhibitions?
For me, it’s a chance to reflect on myself. In one sense, I see having a public exhibition as another important step forward. The direction of the exhibition, the feedback, the suggestions, and the criticism all matter a lot to me. Some advice has even changed my life—not in a bad way, but in a way that pushed me to stay committed to making art.
Once the work is out in public, I think it’s up to the audience to interpret and judge it. As an artist, I’m open to listening to every opinion and criticism. But up to now, I’ve never regretted making the kind of art that comes from my own thoughts and intentions. To be honest, maybe I’m still a young artist too. I probably haven’t exhibited enough yet to face the really harsh criticism.
Text and photo courtesy of Sutiphong Sudsang
Website: https://sutiphongsuds.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sutiphong_ss/
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Interview | Bangkok-Based Artist Pang Torsuwan
Pang Torsuwan (b. 1981) is a self-taught painter based in Bangkok, Thailand. She began her professional career in advertising and marketing and later ran her own fashion brand before fully dedicating herself to painting in 2017.
Working primarily in oil, her practice is strongly influenced by Cubism. Through fragmented forms and layered compositions, her paintings explore the emotional and symbolic dimensions of femininity. Female figures often appear alongside animals and everyday objects, which function as metaphors for inner states, memory, and the quiet complexities of women’s experiences.
Creep 1 & 2, 2025, Oil on canvas, 50 x 60 cm Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
As far as I can remember, art has always been an important part of my childhood. My friends remembered me as the girl who was good at drawing, and I was often chosen to represent my school in art competitions. However, in Thai society at that time, becoming a fine artist was rarely considered a practical career path. My family shared this view, so pursuing art never truly crossed my mind.
Instead, I studied Public Administration and later completed a Master’s degree in Marketing. During those years, art remained only a hobby that I practiced occasionally in my free time.
Everything changed in 2017, when I experienced a period of severe burnout from my work. I began searching for something more meaningful in my life, although I did not yet know what that might be. Eventually, I decided to resign and explore several art courses. One of them happened to be an oil painting class, and after only a few sessions I immediately felt a strong connection to the medium.
At that school, I met a teacher who profoundly changed my life. He recognized my potential and encouraged me to develop my own body of work. In many ways, he was the person who inspired me to pursue art seriously and eventually become an artist.
From that point on, I dedicated myself to learning and practicing intensively. In 2019, I held my first small exhibition, which gradually led to invitations to participate in group exhibitions and art fairs. Over time, these experiences introduced me to the broader art world and allowed me to develop the visual language that defines my work today.
Exhibition view, River City Bangkok, Thailand, 2025, Photo by River City Bangkok What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
At the beginning of my practice, I never consciously questioned why women became the central subject of my work. Over time, however, I realized that I have always been interested in social issues surrounding women, such as gender roles and patriarchal structures. At the same time, I have never felt the need to communicate these topics directly or literally in my paintings. It simply does not feel natural to me as an artist.
Instead, what I seek to express is the emotional dimension and perspective of being a woman. This is conveyed through the female body as well as through symbolic elements that appear within the compositions.
Growing up in an Asian cultural environment, I often associated femininity with the idea of suppression. In my paintings, the women rarely display facial expressions. Rather than relying on facial emotion, the hidden narratives are suggested through posture, composition, and surrounding objects such as animals, flowers, and vases.
The vase, in particular, is an element I frequently include. To me, it represents a metaphorical container of the mind—a vessel that holds emotions, memories, and inner experiences beneath the refined surface shaped by cultural expectations.
Posture is another important element in my work. I am often drawn to images of women in calm or reserved positions—sitting quietly, lying on the floor, resting against one another, or supporting their heads with their hands. These gestures reflect what I perceive as the quiet strength of femininity.
The combination of geometric and organic forms in the figures creates a subtle sense of unfamiliarity. Curved and delicate lines are not intended to express fragility, but rather flexibility—the kind of softness that can bend without breaking.
Animals, especially cats, often appear in my work as well. Their fluid bodies, independence, and instinctive nature resonate with the qualities of femininity I seek to express. Through these elements, my work attempts to reveal different layers of the female experience—both visible and hidden.
Wonderwall, 2025, Oil on canvas, 150 x 150 cm Who and what are your biggest influences, both artistically and personally?
I believe my focus on women and their underlying stories is deeply connected to my childhood experiences with my mother. From a young age, I witnessed her being constantly criticized and verbally bullied by my father’s family. My father’s relatives come from a Chinese business background, where financial success was highly valued. Many of my aunts were strong and successful businesswomen.
In contrast, my mother embodied the character of a traditional Thai woman—gentle, soft-spoken, and reserved. As a child, growing up in that environment, I unconsciously associated her softness with weakness. At the time, I was also a shy and fearful girl who experienced bullying at school.
However, as I grew older, my perspective gradually changed. I eventually realized that my mother was not weak at all. What I once perceived as weakness was actually resilience. Her quiet patience and ability to endure hardship were conscious choices she made to protect her family.
Looking back, I believe these early emotional experiences profoundly shaped my artistic perspective and continue to influence the themes I explore in my work.
Interestingly, my artistic sensibility was also influenced by my father’s side of the family. Many of them work in creative professions such as architecture, interior design, and fashion design. Although none of them pursued fine art, their aesthetic sensibilities influenced my taste and visual thinking.
Because of this background, I naturally approach painting with a strong sense of design. I enjoy constructing compositions, arranging forms, and experimenting with color palettes inspired by fashion and interior spaces. In many ways, my artistic identity has been shaped by the contrasting influences within my family.
Let’s Stay Together, 2025, Oil on canvas, 60 x 80 cm In what ways do you capture Cubist fragmentation through a feminine perspective?
I was initially attracted to Cubism because of the beauty and strength of its structural forms. However, as I began exploring the movement in my own practice, I became interested in balancing those geometric structures with a sense of emotion and sensitivity.
My approach is less analytical than traditional Cubism and more intuitive. Rather than strictly following the intellectual framework of analytical Cubism, I try to soften the rigidity of geometric structures while preserving their underlying order. This balance allows the composition to develop a more fluid and feminine rhythm.
Cubism also provides an opportunity to reinterpret the female figure beyond a realistic representation. I often exaggerate or modify body proportions to amplify certain emotional qualities within the painting. The interaction between geometric and organic shapes, together with light, shadow, and color, becomes a visual language that suggests meanings which are more abstract and emotional than narrative.
During the process, forms that initially begin as parts of the body sometimes evolve into symbolic shapes that evoke feelings or spiritual associations. In this sense, fragmentation becomes a visual reflection of the layered and complex nature of identity.
For me, these fragmented forms resonate with the multiple dimensions of femininity—those that are visible, those that remain hidden, and those shaped by social expectations.
It is also important to acknowledge that Cubism historically developed as a male-dominated movement led by artists such as Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque. While I admire these pioneers, my intention is not to replicate their approach, but rather to reinterpret Cubist language through the perspective of a contemporary female artist.
Imagine, 2025, Oil on canvas, 80 x 100 cm What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
I do not expect viewers to arrive at a specific interpretation. Instead, I prefer to leave space for them to bring their own memories, emotions, and personal experiences into the encounter.
In many ways, I like to think of this interaction as a quiet conversation between the artwork and the viewer—one that evolves differently for each individual.
If there is something I hope people might take away, it would simply be a unique visual experience, or perhaps a new way of perceiving the female figure. Some viewers may respond to the composition, others to the color palette or atmosphere. At any level of engagement, I hope the elements within my paintings can resonate with a sense of femininity that viewers can experience in their own way.
Trouble Sleeping, 2025, Oil on canvas, 100 x 100 cm What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?
I am currently working on a new body of work for a duo exhibition in Taiwan this coming August. The concept revolves around the idea of “Soft Rebellion,” a theme that resonates strongly with me at this moment.
Looking ahead, one of my main goals is to present my second solo exhibition, following my first solo show six years ago. Over the past few years, I have been gradually developing ideas and collecting sketches for this project.
In this upcoming body of work, I hope to push my practice further by making the paintings more expressive while experimenting with new techniques and possibly new mediums. I am particularly interested in exploring a deeper emotional dimension while continuing to balance structure and freedom within the language of Cubism.
I feel that my practice is gradually moving toward a new stage, and I look forward to seeing how it continues to evolve.
Text and photo courtesy of Pang Torsuwan
Website: https://www.pangtorsuwan.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pang_torsuwan
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Interview | Berlin and Bangkok-based Artist Montika Kham-on
Montika Kham-on is a video artist and filmmaker based in Berlin and Bangkok whose practice explores collective fear, speculative futures, and embodied resistance through moving image and performance. Her recent work, Afterlives (2025), imagines a post-tropical future and was commissioned by GHOST:2568. Beyond her video practice, she founded Phimailongweek, a site-specific art festival supporting emerging artists through experimental, context-responsive practices. Montika is currently pursuing an MA at the Berlin University of the Arts (UdK) with support from the DAAD scholarship.
A Storm That Took Everything; The Eye the Storm, 2025, Single-channel video and light projection with stereo sound, 15 minutes, Photo by Natthaya Thaidecha Can you tell us about your background and how you started your artistic journey?
I grew up in a small housing development inside an industrial area. It was a gated community, and as kids, we were never allowed to go beyond the gate because right across from us was a food processing factory. For me, this housing development always felt strange, unlike any other place. It was designed almost like a Russian doll:, one gate inside another, layer after layer, until you reached the innermost part. Sometimes I felt trapped from the inside.
But of course, that never stopped a child from playing. I remember there were so many tropical trees and plants around that it almost felt like living in a resort, which was very different from what you saw once you stepped outside.
I believe the way we play as children shapes who we become. As a kid, I loved imagining stories from my surroundings, creating creatures and places that didn’t exist. For example, I used to tell stories about red flowers that would turn into octopuses when they fell from the tree, floating up into the sky to find their freedom. One day, my father gave me his digital camera, and I made my first stop-motion film. That was how it all began.
At first, I never thought about becoming a video artist or director. My dream was to work as a production designer for film, to build the worlds that others imagined. But my film school trained us to become directors, so I had to find my own way to understand light, colour, and the thresholds between inside and outside, the space between reality and imagination. I realised that a film didn’t have to be realistic; it could be emotionally true. For me, when you move beyond realism, into abstraction, emotion, and feelings that are hard to explain, that’s where you can feel most free.
My final year in film school in Bangkok was hard. It was 2020, the year of COVID. Learning filmmaking through a computer screen was never easy. At the same time, Thailand was seeing one of its biggest youth protests, with young people standing up against the military government and asking for justice and fair elections. It was a radical and beautiful moment for the art scene, because art was one of the few spaces the government couldn’t fully control. Many of my friends skipped the class to record what was happening outside. I also skipped study, but I wasn’t very good at making documentaries. Instead, I began exploring experimental film and contemporary art to express my emotions and experiences during that time. Through experimental film and video, I could imagine other realities, worlds I wanted to live in. That was when I showed my first installation in a group exhibition in Bangkok.
Afterlives, 2025, 4K, color, stereo, 20 minutes 48 seconds, Photo by Montika Kham-on What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
My work centers on the intersection of myth generational trauma and future imagination. We are all inhabitants of a dominant mythos and the essential question is who created it. I believe the only way to genuinely overcome the myth that controls our lives is to tell the story that authentically belongs to us. My understanding of myth is deeply informed by the Southeast Asian context which teaches a non-linear way of seeing the world and perceiving time. These narratives rarely follow the typical hero’s journey instead they often culminate in tragedy suggesting that sorrow itself is a vital lesson. This tradition guides the very way I approach telling a story.
As an artist I possess the tools to articulate my experience and the story I couldn’t deny telling is about my own family’s intergenerational trauma. This legacy became tangible when I read my grandfather’s notebook detailing his childhood struggles, his moments of hope gained and lost. I was led to wonder if his unfulfilled dreams and the dreams of those before him now live within my own body. I recognize the profound sacrifice they made to ensure a better future for their descendants, understanding that my path too demands significant sacrifice. What I must do is keep their story alive effectively keeping their ghost alive through my art.
This clear connection to the past directly fuels my exploration of future imagination. Because I see history so clearly I can project the picture forward. We are living amidst ideas of destruction and apocalypse yet my generation still holds out hope for a better future. The medium of the moving image is key to this; it literally projects light and plays a crucial role in shaping our collective imagination. I’m fascinated by the idea that when humans contemplate the past and the future they engage the same parts of the brain suggesting that the images we conjure for the future are fundamentally sourced from our own memory. This insight led me to the concept of Nimitr, a Sanskrit term signifying vision, dream or divine imagination. Nimitr represents that fluid space between consciousness and belief where images appear before they are materialized. It touches upon images you consciously create as well as those you simply do not control. The tension and potential of this uncontrollable image are central to my current interest connecting this way of thinking to how we can genuinely imagine our future.
NANG, 2025, Mixed-media installation, sculpture, stainless steel, single-channel video, 1minutes, 135 cm x 70 cm, Photo by Olivier Therrien How do you stay inspired and motivated to create new work?
Whenever I feel unmotivated or in need of inspiration, I turn to books. Reading, for me, is a process, a journey inward. Sometimes, when feeling lost in life or during the process of making art, reading becomes a kind of affirmation, like having someone to talk to. Over time, I’ve started building my own collection, both fiction and non-fiction, mostly by female and queer writers such as Arundhati Roy and bell hooks. Their words have become my guides.
I’m also very project-oriented. Whenever I start a project, I ask myself whether it’s trying to answer “what” or “how.” Some projects don’t give me a clear “what,” but they teach me the “how.” For example, my collective and I founded Phimailongweek. For me, it wasn’t just about making a festival, it was about learning how to create a supportive ecosystem for emerging artists, where knowledge is shared peer-to-peer, cutting through art-world politics to prove that collaborative learning can work. It was a way of learning by doing, and that process itself became meaningful.
I’ve also realized that I can’t stay motivated alone. Being around like-minded, spirited people keeps the energy alive. While filmmaking or art-making can be done solo, the work that moves me the most always comes from collaboration. When people come together to create something bigger than themselves, whether it’s a festival, a symposium, or a shared vision, that’s when real miracles happen.
Rite of Shadows, 2024, Video projection on haze, color, stereo, 10 minutes 08 seconds, Photo by Pakapol Wannao Are there any particular mediums you prefer working with? Why?
I have always been completely fascinated by moving images and how much the world fundamentally shifted after this medium was born. Now we are truly creatures of the moving image. We use our own eyes to sense and navigate the world more deeply than ever before. It makes me stop and wonder what was the dream of people before this technology was created.
Whatever that dream was, it is the moving image that is actively shaping our reality right now.
But of course at the same time this medium is a great tool for both manipulating reality and emotion. Everything we see in a moving image whether it is in cinema , on television in advertisements or even scrolling on our phone constantly shapes the way we perceive. This is what led me to become so interested in the mental image of our own ancient imagination. I mean
that imagination is one of the earliest human abilities; it did not arrive recently with language or technology. While language dramatically improved how we think and communicate it’s clear that ‘thinking with imagery’ and even ‘thinking with the body’ were operating hundreds of thousands of years earlier. The profound power of the moving image even at its origin lies in its ability to tap directly into this deep primal skill. It is woven into our deep human history to read, store and retrieve emotionally coded representations of the world, a process driven by conditioned associations not by propositional coding or logic. This explains why the moving image speaks to a fundamental pre-linguistic part of us making it such a potent tool for both shaping and manipulating our reality.
The moving image therefore serves as my primary tool to question the very reality we inhabit. I utilize it to project ideas into the senses offering a way to think beyond the frame itself. The core of my artistic exploration centers on a single question: can we actually find the true agency of the medium, the inherent capacity that allows it to set itself free from external manipulation.
Siamese Futurism, 2021, HD, color, stereo, 8 minutes. Photo by Montika Kham-on What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
I hope my art can offer a space where people feel connected through shared but private human experiences, a space that allows for reflection, change, and a sense of freedom. I am interested in the possibilities of life, in how we move through pain, desire, and transcendence together.
In Buddhism, especially in the Mahayana tradition, there is an idea of collective awakening, where change does not happen alone, but through shared attention or presence. That is what I hope my work can hold: a kind of group meditation, where people see parts of themselves in others.
My art often comes from my own brokenness and generational trauma, but also from a wish to go beyond destructive cycles, to question what we inherit and how we might live differently. I hope that when people experience my work, they feel the possibility of deep personal change, even in the middle of chaos, a reminder that love, freedom, and renewal are still possible.
Prephecy, 2025, Video on matte acrylics glass, stereo, colour, 3 minutes, 149.3 cm x 84 cm, Photo by Panisa Khueanphet What projects are you currently working on, and what can we expect from you in the future?
Right now, my main focus is on a long-term project called Post-Tropical Cinema. It’s something I’ve been developing for quite some time, and it continues to grow with me. At the moment, I’m writing and preparing to translate it into an exhibition that explores what I call post-tropical future aesthetics.
This project looks at how moving images, performance and installation can imagine new realities emerging from tropical contexts, beyond exoticism or colonial fantasy. It’s about rethinking cinema not only as a medium but as a space of ritual, memory, and transformation.In the future, you can expect to see me continue expanding this framework, collaborating with other artists and researchers across Southeast Asia and Europe, and finding new ways to connect film, contemporary art, and collective imagination.
Text & photo courtesy of Montika Kham-on
Website: https://montikakhamon.com/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/montikakhamon/
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Interview | Bangkok-Based Artist Kawita Vatanajyankur
Kawita Vatanajyankur has achieved significant recognition since graduating from RMIT University (BA, Fine Art) in 2011. In 2015, she was a Finalist in the Jaguar Asia Pacific Tech Art Prize and curated into the prestigious Thailand Eye exhibition at Saatchi Gallery in London. Her work was curated into the ‘Islands in the Stream’ exhibition in Venice, alongside the 57th Venice Biennale in 2017. Furthermore, she was selected to present her works at the Asia Triennale of Performing Arts at Melbourne Arts Centre, as well as the Asian Art Biennial Taiwan in that year. Vatanajyankur joined the first Bangkok Art Biennale in 2018 and exhibited her work as part of ‘Absurdity in Paradise’ at Fridericianum Museum in Kassel, Germany. In 2019, Vatanajyankur held her largest museum show titled ‘Foul Play’ at Albright Knox Art Gallery in New York, USA. Moreover, she participated as part of the ‘Collecting Entanglements and Embodied Histories’ exhibition at the Maiiam Museum of Contemporary Art (in Chiang Mai, Thailand) and Hamburger Bahnhof (in Berlin, Germany) in 2021. In that same year, her work was chosen for the ‘Balance’ exhibition at Hamburger Bahnhof. Vatanajyankur joined the third edition of the Bangkok Art Biennale under the theme ‘Chaos and Calm’ while also displaying her work as part of ‘Fun Feminism’ at Kunst Museum Basel in Basel, Switzerland, and ‘The Uncanny World’ at the Museum of Contemporary Art Busan in Busan, Korea. In 2023, Vatanajyankur held a solo booth, which was introduced by Nova Contemporary at the Encounter section at Art Basel Hong Kong. In 2024, Kawita presented her works as part of ‘The Spirits of Maritime Crossing, ’ an official collateral exhibition of the Venice Biennale, and was taking part as one of the selected artists at the Asia Pacific Triennale (APT11) in Brisbane, Australia.
Vatanajyankur has exhibited widely across Australia, as well as Asia, the USA, and Europe. Vatanajyankur’s work is held at the National Collection of Thailand and in Museum collections including Queensland Gallery of Modern Art (QAGOMA), Singapore Art Museum (Singapore), JUT Art Museum (Taiwan), M Woods Museum (China), Dunedin Public Art Gallery (New Zealand), Maiiam Contemporary Art Museum (Thailand), DIB Contemporary Art Museum (Thailand), MOCA Museum of Contemporary Art (Thailand), as well as university collections and private collections in Australia, New Zealand, Asia, Europe and America. She is currently represented by Nova Contemporary, Bangkok.
My Mother and I, 2021, 4K Video Can you introduce yourself and tell us a bit about your background as an artist?
My name is Kawita Vatanajyankur, and I am a performative video artist based in Bangkok, Thailand. My artistic journey was profoundly shaped by my education at RMIT University in Melbourne, Australia, where I was immersed in the city’s dynamic art scene and was inspired by my mentors to pursue a career as a contemporary artist.
After graduating, I engaged actively with the Australian art community, submitting my proposals to various institutions before returning to Thailand. Here, I established my art studio and was warmly embraced by the local arts community.
Since my early days at RMIT, I have been driven by a passion to explore themes that resonate deeply with me, particularly gender and labor. Through my work, I aim to challenge perceptions and contribute to meaningful discussions on these important issues.
What are the main themes or concepts you explore in your work?
My artistic journey has unfolded through distinct series of work, each reflecting a different facet of my exploration. The “Tools” series emerged when I returned to Thailand after a decade as an international student in Melbourne, Australia. During this period, I felt like an outsider, alienated from Thai culture and society, which held differing views on female roles. This sense of misalignment made me feel as though I was constantly at odds with societal expectations, as if I was always falling short of what was expected of a woman.
Driven by feelings of loneliness and isolation, I began the “Tools” series as a means of expressing these emotions. I found myself objectifying and transforming into what society demanded, leading me to question my identity and personal values deeply. In this series, I physically embody household domestic objects, performing as cleaning or cooking tools within the home. These roles are symbolic of the often unseen and undervalued abstract labor that women undertake. By embodying these tools, I highlight the societal expectation of women as emotional shelters and caretakers while also challenging the lack of recognition and appreciation for the extensive and invaluable contributions women make.
The Toilet, 2020, 4K Video Following the “Tools” series, my focus shifted to exploring the roles of women’s work outside the home, within various industries. This exploration unveiled the harsh realities of violence and exploitation in workplaces, compounded by wages so low that survival becomes a struggle for these laborers. Despite numerous protests, the voices of these oppressed individuals remain largely unheard and often silenced by authorities.
The fast fashion industry serves as a stark example. Here, workers endure meager wages, lack social security, and toil in toxic environments saturated with chemical dyes. This series illuminated the devastating effects of our society’s relentless drive for consumption and the pervasive feeling of never having “enough.” We are conditioned by capitalist ideals to crave more possessions, wealth, and career success, all while clinging to materialistic values.
This insatiable desire fuels massive consumption, compelling industries to continually sell us products like clothes and beauty items. In today’s era, products are made cheaper, luring us into a false sense of fulfillment, yet true satisfaction remains elusive. Meanwhile, the relentless cycle of exploitation devastates the lives of these workers and wreaks havoc on our environment, with factory pollution contaminating our air and poisoning our oceans.
These revelations inspired the creation of a significant video series titled “Performing Textiles.” In this series, I use my female body as a representation of textiles and garment machines in factories, symbolizing the dehumanization and mechanization of female labor in the fashion industry. Through my work, I aim to shed light on these critical issues and challenge the underlying values driving this destructive cycle.
Shuttle, 2021, 4K Video While completing the “Performing Textiles” series, I delved into researching the impact of systemic exploitation on farmers, particularly concerning the costs and consequences of genetically modified seeds. These seeds, coupled with the necessary purchase of expensive chemicals, place a significant financial burden on farmers. To understand this issue more deeply, I embarked on a field study in India with a friend, where we interviewed farmers to uncover how these practices lead to exploitation and, tragically, drive some to use chemical pesticides as a means of suicide.
Amidst the challenges, our trip also revealed a glimmer of hope through encounters with organic communities dedicated to addressing these problems. These groups strive to bring sustainability to the agricultural sector, improving farmers’ lives while providing society with healthy food products.
Inspired by these discoveries, I created a series titled “Field Work,” which explores the broken scale of injustice within the agricultural system. Through this series, I aim to highlight both the struggles and the potential solutions, emphasizing the need for systemic change and sustainable practices.
The Pendulum, 2023, 5 Channels Video How do your personal experiences and identity influence your art?
The passing of my father, due to cancer exacerbated by excessive work and lack of rest, served as a catalyst for my exploration of the human condition through the lenses of work and labor. This deeply personal loss prompted me to question the relentless pursuit of success ingrained in capitalism and its detrimental effects on our well-being.
As I pondered our growing tendency to adopt mechanistic behaviors, losing touch with our humanity in the relentless quest for productivity, I also reflected on how consumption and materialistic values further entangle us in this cycle. We often find ourselves trapped in the pursuit of more—more possessions, more success—believing it will fulfill us, yet it frequently leaves us disconnected from our true selves.
Through my art, I aim to uncover the essence of humanity and challenge the narratives that bind us to the demands of capitalism, consumption, and materialism. By doing so, I aspire to prompt reflection on our genuine human identity beyond the confines of labor and material pursuits.
Sponge, 2020, 4K Video Do you collaborate with other artists or creators? If so, how has collaboration influenced your work?
In my recent series, I had the opportunity to collaborate with a game developer, AI scientists, and engineers to create an innovative body of work. This journey began with an artistic virtual reality game titled “Voidscape,” commissioned by Central Department Store, which generously sponsored our production and provided the necessary spaces. Co-created with the talented game developer Cyrus James Khan, “Voidscape” immerses audiences in a dystopian future, illustrating the consequences of unchecked consumerism and rampant consumption.
The work unfolds across various virtual worlds, each depicting a different facet of environmental devastation. In one world, parched lands are inhabited by human cyborgs, tirelessly laboring without end. In another, toxic waters have flooded the landscape, eradicating all living creatures, leaving only cyborgs attempting to cleanse the poisoned ocean. A third world presents an endless prison of pollution, where cyborgs are engaged in a futile attempt to vacuum away the contamination.
Through this collaboration, Central Department Store and our team aim to raise awareness among everyday consumers, encouraging them to reflect on their purchasing habits. It’s a significant step towards fostering consciousness about the impact of our consumption, and I believe it’s a promising beginning for meaningful change.
Working with Central has illuminated for me the profound impact art can have when it transcends the boundaries of the traditional art world. It underscores the power of art to provoke thought and inspire change in the broader public sphere.
Voidscape, 2022, Virtual Reality Installation I am engaged in an ongoing collaboration with MIT Media Lab researcher and AI/cyborg specialist Pat Pataranutaporn on our evolving series, “Cyber Labour.” This important series delves into the intersection of technology and labor, exploring how advancements in artificial intelligence and digital technology are reshaping the future of work and the human experience within it.
One of my favorite pieces from this series, which premiered at The Asia Pacific Triennial, is “The Machine Ghost in the Human Shell.” In this work, I employed electric muscle stimulation, guided by GPT-4, to control my body while it communicated directly with me. This psychological experiment challenged my understanding of human identity by probing the tension between machine intelligence and the human mind.
The performance grapples with a fundamental question: As intelligent machines integrate with our consciousness, potentially becoming the source of our “souls,” do our physical bodies merely become vessels for these synthetic entities? The piece explores the possibility of intelligent machines evolving into new sentient beings, blurring the distinctions between “natural” and “artificial,” “human” and “machine.” By merging these opposites, might we be transforming into a transcendent new entity with altered perspectives and values?
In this work, as I experience the physical control and manipulation of the AI, I aim to resist its influence. I seek to experiment with this dynamic, striving to reclaim my sense of free will amidst the pervasive presence of machine intelligence.
How do you approach exhibiting your work? What are your goals when showing your art in public spaces?
These days, my projects often come to life through invitations as commissioned works for museums, institutions, or private organizations. However, my ideal vision is to exhibit my art in unique public spaces where I can engage directly with a broader audience. Art possesses tremendous power when it extends beyond the confines of the traditional art world.
By placing my work in everyday public environments—spaces people pass by, engage with, or conduct daily activities like shopping—I aim to raise awareness among the general public. These installations would seamlessly integrate into their routines, transforming familiar spaces into thought-provoking experiences. Whether it’s a busy street corner, a bustling shopping mall, or a community park, my goal is to make art an integral part of public consciousness, sparking reflection and dialogue in the midst of daily life.
Moreover, by embedding art in places where people naturally gather, I hope to challenge perceptions and inspire change in a way that’s both accessible and impactful, fostering a deeper connection between art and community.
Plough, 2021, 2 Channels Video What are your thoughts on the use of technology and digital platforms in the art world today?
As an artist, I believe it’s not just about the platforms or mediums we use but rather about utilizing all available tools—both technological and non-technological—to investigate, explore, and experiment. Artists should strive to seek out questions that haven’t been asked before in pursuit of new philosophical insights into the truth about humanity. Through AI technology, as demonstrated in the “Cyber Labour” series, I explore the essence of what it means to be human amidst the digital exorcism and manipulation of the mind. AI enhances my artistic practice by uncovering new meanings and provoking crucial questions about our evolving relationship with technology, such as whether we are dehumanizing ourselves by humanizing machines. This journey is about confronting and challenging the core of our human identity in a rapidly changing world.
The Machine Ghost in the Human Shell, 2024, 4K Video and Holographic installation What do you hope people take away from your art when they experience it?
When people engage with my art, I want them to leave with a deeper understanding of their role in the world. Through my work on exploitation and labor, as well as exploring the relationship between humanity and technology, I aim to challenge their perceptions and inspire critical thinking.
My art seeks to ignite conversations about human existence, the influence of technology, and the dynamics of labor. It encourages viewers to pause, reflect, and question the status quo, inviting them to reconsider what it means to be human in today’s rapidly changing world.
Ultimately, I hope my art empowers people to explore their beliefs, engage more consciously with the world, and contribute to building a more thoughtful and equitable future.
Text & photo courtesy of Kawita Vatanajyankur
Website: https://www.kawitav.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kawitavv
