Chulayarnnon Siriphol

At the first edition of Ghost 2561 in 2018, I was drawn to a curious video installation titled ‘Golden Spiral’, combining golden snail sculptures with a short film that blended documentary aesthetics with beauty product advertising. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Chulayarnnon Siriphol’s work, but this piece left a strong impression. When I finally met him in person, while coordinating one of his classes at my former workplace, I was struck by his quiet, almost Buster Keaton-like presence, so different from the bold and playful spirit that runs through much of his art.

I photographed him just before his solo show 'I a Pixel, We the People' opened at Bangkok CityCity. I photographed him there, surrounded by piles of clothes, family relics, and of course, the infamous golden snail. The show remixes two decades of short films, home videos, and archival material into an immersive video cavern, looping screens, and a single pixel reimagined as a symbol of resistance. A self-proclaimed hoarder, Chulayarnnon repurposes memories into layered, surreal narratives—culminating in a 24-hour screening marathon on opening day.

A few weeks later, he invited me to continue the shoot at his home. After coffee, he showed me his studio, where I spotted paint-splattered boxing gloves from ‘Red Eagle Sangmorakot: No More Hero In His Story’, a recent BACC installation. Posters of past projects and exhibitions lined the space. He doesn’t just direct, he often appears in his films under various personas. One of his most memorable is Kirati, based on ‘Behind the Painting’, reimagined across two films and an exhibition.

I photographed him as Kirati, posed in front of a hand-painted backdrop from the project. We ended the session at his editing station, facing a shelf packed with art books, political ephemera, religious relics, toys, and souvenirs. He sat at the centre of it all, wearing a Thai Boy Scout uniform from ‘How to Explain “Monument to the Fourth International” to the Dead Golden Snail’, holding the same handycam he once used as a student. In that moment, I felt that the room itself, like a mirror, offered a condensed portrait of Chulayarnnon and his art.