
Before I realized it, I found myself returning again and again to Bangkok’s Chinatown, drawn to the figures of the “carriers.” These are people who make their living through the humble, everyday work of carrying. There seemed to be a unique sense of kinship among them—one that, in a way, also set them apart from the rest of society. They blended into the city, yet somehow remained slightly out of place.


Whenever someone holds an object, a trace of the carrier remains. And yet, when people pass by them on the street, most don’t seem to notice their existence at all— as if the carriers were moving through a different dimension altogether.

Still, without them, the development of this city would not have been possible. Bangkok’s appeal is built on contradictions, and the carriers are a living symbol of that. At first, I didn’t know why I was so drawn to them. Even without a clear reason, I kept photographing them again and again. Through that process, I gradually came to feel that it is precisely these often-overlooked figures who give shape to the city of Bangkok.

In places where no light shines, we can often find the clearest outline of a city. I believe that’s true of any urban landscape. Through this project, I feel I’ve begun to understand—just a little—why I take photographs in the first place.
