Kamthorn Paowattanasuk’s images appear quietly and linger in the mind. They drift between memory and dream, grounded in the everyday while touched by something just beyond reach. Each image unfolds slowly, drawing you into a liminal space where perception softens and the feeling of passing time lingers.
In his latest presentation at West Eden, as part of the group exhibition Chronoscapes, he explores the blurry edge between what we consider real and what we quietly imagine. Organized in collaboration with 1PROJECTS, the exhibition brings together three artists whose works challenge the boundaries between personal memory and collective experience. Kamthorn’s contribution uses AI-generated tools to reflect on how technology, emotion, and perception intersect. The result is a series of visuals that feel familiar but resist definition, hovering somewhere between recognition and illusion.
His practice is grounded in personal experience and a continuous urge to experiment. Rather than telling fixed stories, his work offers a space to sit with uncertainty and reflect on how we construct meaning through perception. He describes this search as an “unreal tranquility,” a feeling that sits just beyond reach but remains deeply felt.
In this conversation, Kamthorn shares thoughts on memory, AI, and the evolving ways we experience images—both those we capture and those we carry.
What was the starting point of your career in the art world?
I studied at an art school and earned my bachelor's degree in photography from Chulalongkorn University. After that, I worked as a photographer’s assistant in studios, and later became a film developer for the photographer Surat Osathanugrah. After his passing, I shifted to photo printing while continuing my own photography practice and exhibiting my work regularly.
I can’t quite pinpoint the exact moment my art career began or when I truly entered the art world. It’s been a gradual process through experiences and exhibitions, and I’ve had the opportunity to meet artists, photographers, and people from different generations and backgrounds. I’m not sure when I started taking it seriously either, but if I had to choose a starting point, I’d say it began during my time at the College of Fine Arts, and I’ve been immersed in the art world ever since.
What themes or ideas appear regularly in your work?
There are two parts to it. First, when you’re photographing, you often stumble upon something—it’s a fast and instinctive process. After shooting, ideas and compositions begin to form in your mind, giving you a clearer vision of what you want to express. My photography doesn’t follow a fixed theme; it has shifted and evolved with my experiences throughout the years.
I didn’t follow the traditional path as a photographer. Most photographers begin by capturing things they find aesthetically pleasing or conventionally beautiful. But I believe beauty is subjective. What one person sees as beautiful might not resonate with someone else at all. For example, I’m drawn to temples that feel strange or uncommon—places that might not fit people’s ideas of what a “traditional” or beautiful temple should look like. To me, they represent the art of my time, and I photograph them as part of my storytelling.
As for AI-generated photography, I’ve noticed that many photographers haven’t yet incorporated it into their work, but I see it becoming more prominent. There’s definitely a rise in its presence and potential in other industries.
What is your working process when creating artwork using AI?
You need to have a vision in your head. And since there are so many programs within AI, you have to test and run many trials to see how it generates your photo, whether it takes away your vision of beauty, or ends up manipulating it. But you still have the freedom to choose the visual you want. If you get the hang of how AI works, you can learn how to control it.
So at the end of the day, the question is: does AI learn about us, or do we learn about AI? Sometimes you create something through AI, and when you see it, you like it. But there’s a blurry line: Who actually made it? Was it the AI, or was it you?
What are the similarities and differences between AI-generated photographs and photographs taken with a camera?
I think AI brings together many forms of art, including writing, graphic design, photography, and more. Since I focus on photography, I usually brief the AI to generate an image using photography as the base. I also apply my own knowledge, like specifying which camera I would use or choosing a lens, whether it’s a 35mm or a close-up.
At first glance, what AI creates can look like a complete photograph. But when you look more closely, the details often feel off. That’s why I think AI-generated images should be placed in their own category. But the rhetorical question is: can AI-generated photos truly become a substitute for photography?
Personally, I don’t think so. AI is more like a visualization of the mind. It doesn’t involve direct interaction or experience, the way photography does. AI feels more like daydreaming, while photography is rooted in reality, being present in a moment. When you're out taking pictures, you can anticipate what your subject might do next. That’s based on human behavior. With AI, you can't predict the outcome in the same way. For example, if I ask AI to create a picture of a girl running, it might give her an extra leg.
Because of that unpredictability, we have to be very specific with our prompts. You can guide it by saying exactly what you want, like making sure the girl has two legs instead of three. With photography, you also have a vision of what might happen, but every shot still holds some uncertainty. And I’m okay with that. I enjoy that unpredictability. It surprises me and keeps me engaged.
It reminds me of the old days of film photography, when the real thrill wasn’t just in taking the photo but in developing it. You’d wait patiently in the darkroom, watching the image slowly come to life, wondering if the moment you captured was the same as the one you had imagined when you pressed the shutter.
The Dissolution of Pink Clouds, 2024
How do you interpret the concepts of memory and perception?
Memories come from experiences, but I don’t think there are many clear categories for how we perceive them. Maybe they can be divided into emotions like happiness, sadness, or neutrality. Still, I often find it difficult to distinguish between a memory and a mental image.
Suppose I say I went to the beach and it was beautiful. I remember vividly how the light looked and how it felt warm and soft. But because I feel neutral about the moment, I’m not sure if what I’m recalling is an actual memory or just a mental image.
At the same time, I think about how I associate certain visuals with emotions that aren’t based on lived experience. I’ve watched a lot of horror movies, and now when I see an old wooden house, I immediately feel uneasy. I imagine a ghostly woman inside, even though I’ve never experienced that myself. So I’m still unsure whether those feelings are tied to memory, or are they part of a mental image shaped by imagination and repetition?
The solitude of white hair, 2024
Your images appear unreal and layered across multiple dimensions. Is that how you see the world today?
I think it is like that. If I say you're not real, would you believe it? If you dissect your arm, that arm on its own is no longer you. It becomes just an arm. To be you, all parts of your bodies need to come together to form a whole, functioning being. The same idea applies to objects. If you take apart a chair, the wooden pieces alone are no longer a chair.
So if you ask me, I believe everything is made up of emptiness and composed of smaller parts that come together to form what we recognize as things in this universe. Language is a good example. We don’t all speak the same language. People in different countries call the same object different names. The word "chair" might be something completely different somewhere else. Language is something we collectively agree on. It helps us communicate and label the objects around us.
If we don’t understand each other, it may not be a problem. But once we do understand one another, that’s when problems can begin. Understanding creates expectations, and with that, misunderstandings can follow.
Kamthorn’s work does not offer conclusions. It asks us to sit with uncertainty, to see how memory shifts, how perception bends, and how images captured by a lens or generated through written prompts and code can still move us. Chronoscapes reminds us that what we see is never fixed, and the art of looking is always personal. The exhibition is on view at West Eden Gallery until August 3, inviting you to see the world a little differently.
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Images: West Eden
