Working in Thailand for many years, what struck me most profoundly was the extraordinary diversity that lies beneath its surface—culturally, ethnically, and historically.
While Theravāda Buddhism and southern customs form a shared framework, the country is layered with countless local cultures, including highland ethnic minorities with distinct beliefs, clothing, and worldviews.
As someone raised in a relatively monocultural society built on notions of “one people, one culture,” Thailand’s layered reality has always felt both unfamiliar and deeply fascinating.

I had long dreamed of bringing together Thailand’s many colors in one exhibition.
But the opportunity never felt quite right—until now.
This is my first solo show in Thailand, and it gathers various fragments from my photographic journey into a cohesive visual stream.
Some images come from long-term projects with minority communities. Others are glimpses of daily life in my wife’s neighborhood.

In photographing these people and places, I sought always to preserve their dignity and elegance.
I often employed lighting and techniques from commercial photography, blending documentary realism with a sense of visual composition and refinement.
I know well that such an approach challenges the conventions of “serious documentary.”
But photography, to me, is a record of relationships—between the person behind the camera and the one in front of it.
Rather than hiding that relationship, I chose to reveal it, inviting a more honest conversation.

Some believe that the purpose of documentary is to expose suffering and reveal uncomfortable truths.
While I respect that tradition, I believe photographs can speak for themselves—without always borrowing the language of journalism.
Art need not offer answers. Its value lies in difference itself.
I do not claim my approach is “correct.” I only hope to exist as one voice within the broader landscape of visual diversity.

Contemporary documentary photography, I feel, has become overly constrained by narrative, losing its visual power in the process.
I would rather that an image exist like a finished poem—complete in itself.
Visual art must ultimately be resolved within the frame of sight.
If a viewer feels drawn emotionally into an image, the photograph has already fulfilled its role.
The deeper academic or journalistic layers—those belong to experts who have dedicated their lives to such pursuits.

Photography is, in essence, a way of writing with light.
While cinema is often said to be “story-driven,” many directors say that a film must move like a poem.
A film that tries too hard to say everything ends up saying nothing.
In that spirit, I approach photography as aphorism—a brief, resonant phrase captured in a single frame.
If just one or two images can move the heart, that, to me, is the essence of photography.

This exhibition is a gathering of fragments—seasonal moments, daily rituals, clothing, belief, faces, landscapes.
But beyond documentation, I wanted to express a quiet, universal respect:
That even if we look different on the surface, we are the same in our longing to be seen with dignity.

Written in Lampang, 2017
Hakbong Kwon