Orawan Arunrak, the Bangkok- and Berlin-based artist whose practice draws deeply from everyday life, memory, and the subtle dynamics of human connection, works across drawing, painting, text, performance, sound, and video. Her installations explore the intersections of culture, language, and space, inviting attentive engagement and shared presence. In this conversation with CNTRFLD.ART, she reflects on her formative experiences in Thailand, the fluidity of identity across cities and cultures, and her approach to community-centred practice. She also shares insights into her forthcoming project, Ghost: Bodies Dispossessed in Bangkok, curated by Christina Li, where she continues to investigate displacement, spiritual presence, and collective memory.

“I grew up between two families, so ‘home’ was never fixed but always in motion. From a young age, I had to adapt between life in the provinces and in Bangkok, a city of diverse people, which made me attentive to small details in ordinary life… Being ‘from somewhere else’ has taught me to observe my surroundings closely. I notice overlooked stories, gestures, and places, collecting these details and weaving them into my work.” — Orawan Arunrak

CNTRFLD. Looking back on your childhood in Bangkok, were there early memories, experiences, or influences that sparked your interest in art? How did your journey unfold from those first impressions to becoming an artist today?  

AO. Every weekend, I would wait by the train where my parents worked. We had a meeting spot, and my father would throw down a cardboard box. Inside were usually books or magazines he collected from tourists. I loved looking at the strange images drawings and installations that made me curious. I also enjoyed drawing cartoon characters and cutting them out to create stories by myself alongside the books. I grew up in Prachinburi, where there were no museums or galleries. Temples were the first places I saw narrative paintings, architecture, and performances. Both the books from my parents and the temples became my first inspirations. These influences are still clearly visible in my art today, especially in storytelling and installations.

CNTRFLD. Your work is deeply rooted in everyday life and human connection. How did your upbringing and personal experiences shape your understanding of identity, and how does that continue to influence your practice?

AO. I grew up between two families, so “home” was never fixed but always in motion. From a young age, I had to adapt between life in the provinces and in Bangkok, a city of diverse people, which made me attentive to small details in ordinary life. Later, living in cities across Asia and Europe allowed me to see people and cultures from multiple perspectives. This fluid sense of identity is reflected in my practice, which uses everyday objects to create situations for viewers to connect and explore. Being “from somewhere else” has taught me to observe my surroundings closely. I notice overlooked stories, gestures, and places, collecting these details and weaving them into my work, which have become central to many pieces.

CNTRFLD. You’ve lived and worked between Bangkok and Berlin for several years now. What motivated you to split your time between these two cities, and how do they each shape your way of making and thinking about art?

AO. Living in Berlin and Bangkok brings me different moods. Each place has its own character, and often it’s the people and the moment that make the city feel the way it does. Berlin feels far from home and unfamiliar it makes me curious and observant, encouraging me to notice the place and its people. It’s not always comfortable, but that discomfort helps me focus. Bangkok feels familiar, but because I don’t stay all the time, I can observe it with some distance. Sometimes these feelings switch I may feel like a stranger in Bangkok, and in Berlin I sometimes feel I understand, but still as if I am only visiting. It’s a constant crossing of feelings. This shapes the way I make and think about art: meeting people, trying to understand, and presenting things that might otherwise be overlooked

CNTRFLD. How would you compare the experience of being an artist in Thailand to working in Berlin or other cities where you’ve exhibited? What kinds of support systems or challenges have you encountered, particularly as a woman artist?

AO. My stay in Berlin began with a one-year residency at Künstlerhaus Bethanien, which was a great opportunity to learn from artists with very different backgrounds. For me, working in any unfamiliar place is challenging, but it also keeps me curious and open. I didn’t follow a master’s program, so building a network with fellow artists and curators has been essential. Long-term relationships across Asia and Berlin have supported my practice, and programs like BPA in Berlin and my current residency at Delfina Foundation in London help me research, produce, and exchange ideas internationally. Being part of these communities gives me a sense of visibility and support and reminds me how important it is to create space for others to join in at their own pace. As a woman artist, I feel there is increasing support, though challenges remain. I hope the emphasis is placed on the work’s meaning and ideas, while ensuring space for all genders and backgrounds.

CNTRFLD. Much of your work dissolves the boundary between art and non-art, involving conversations with local communities. How do you approach these interactions, and what role does listening play in your creative process?

AO. For me, “non-art” spaces are everyday places temples, parks, streets where people live and move. These spaces let me observe and interact naturally. My first experiences noticing details in an art space started at BACC, right after graduating, when art centres in Thailand were still new. I noticed how viewers engaged with artworks and wanted to create moments for them to pause and reflect both inside the art space and in everyday spaces around it. In Counting (2019), I spent several days drawing on concrete at a construction shop near my home. Being there allowed people to experience the work visually and through conversation. Open spaces and dialogue helped audiences participate naturally, even those who might not usually visit an art centre.

For The Nirat of Parallel Rails, 2025, I spent days writing stories at train stations. Being in the space helped me observe, listen, and notice movement around me, continuing this approach of engaging with people and the environment directly.  Listening is key to my process. I observe people and spaces, then translate what I notice into the work, creating moments that viewers can experience and reflect on.

CNTRFLD. In Exit–Entrance and other projects, you’ve brought together diverse voices across language, religion, and culture. What draws you to these polyphonic conversations, and how do you decide what form they take—whether installation, drawing, or sound?

AO. I’m drawn to conversations with people from different backgrounds and languages. Exit–Entrance,2017 was the first work I created during my artist residency at the Künstlerhaus Bethanien in Berlin. It connects ten people like a map, guiding the audience through shared spaces. I spend time observing and listening in each location, which shapes the work. I use drawing, sound, or installations as tools to communicate. In this piece, I used four languages in a sound installation so the audience could feel a little lost, but they can explore ten drawings on the wallpaper based on conversations with each person. The forms might not be clear at first, but they invite closer attention and connection. The installation encourages listening and reflection. Elements come from the places I met the people temples, parks, living rooms, markets creating a familiar, human-scaled presence. Even sitting on a cushion in the sunlight, the audience might catch a phrase or melody that lingers, or drifts into sleep in the space.

CNTRFLD. Language and translation appear as both material and metaphor in your work. How do you think about the different languages you use—Thai, German, English, Vietnamese—as shaping the meaning and reception of your art?

AO. For me, each language carries not only words but also worldviews. Thai has its rhythm and intimacy; English often acts as a bridge. I don’t speak German or Vietnamese, but I live with their sounds, noticing how they shape the space around me. These sounds and rhythms become part of my work. I don’t see translation as completing meaning, but as exposing gaps—moments when something can’t be fully transferred. Those pauses invite reflection and remind us that communication is never total, always ongoing. Visual elements, including drawings, act as a universal language, helping bridge people and my work. For installation, I use human-scale spaces, familiar materials, and open layouts, allowing viewers to choose how to engage. In many works, people can find their own sequence of looking, while the arrangement of sound, text, and imagery encourages them to pause, notice details, and explore at their own pace, without imposing a single direction.

CNTRFLD. You're participating in Ghost: Bodies Dispossessed, curated by Christina Li. Could you share what this project means to you, and how your contribution explores ideas of displacement, spiritual presence, or collective memory?

AO. I am participating in Ghost: Bodies Dispossessed, continuing my collaboration with Christina Li from Ghost 2565: Live Without Dead Time. I am deeply grateful to her, the team at BANGKOK CITYCITY, my family, and friends, who guided me back to my home which holds deep meaning for me and supported the development of this project and new work. That earlier project, Audio Walk: Rituals on Walking (2022), inspired me to return to Hua Lamphong Station and create an audio walk with my family and neighbours, performed with participants joining the experience. For me, the “spirit” never disappears, and the “body” here refers to remembrance and reflection. The work I am developing with Christina Li is like a shared listening and remembering her body as a curator and my own body extending to other bodies, through displacement, spiritual presence, or collective memory. All of this is an act of remembrance that continues to inhabit and persist.

My new work, Nirat of Parallel Rails (นิราศรางคู่), uses words, voice, and melody to move like a Nirat (a traditional Thai travel poem that traces journeys, emotions, and reflections) inhabiting the bodies of narrator, listeners, and those who remember. It is presented as video and performance.

CNTRFLD. You’ve also been working on นิราศรางคู่ – Nirat of Parallel Rails, which draws from a Thai poetic tradition and family histories. What new directions is that project taking, and how do you see it evolving?

AO. Nirat of Parallel Rails is a long-term project inspired by Thai poetic tones and my family’s connection to the railway. It’s a new way of presenting my work and exploring stories that might have been forgotten or left untold. This version is multi-sensory: words, voice, melody, performance, and images move together so the audience can experience the work fully. Some melodies come from my mother’s lullabies or Thai lessons, creating a listening experience that invites careful recollection. I also believe that sound, whatever the language, sparks curiosity. I use Thai because it’s my first language and feels close to me, while translations take a visual form for people to understand or simply enjoy the sound. The project started in the UK during my residency at Delfina Foundation, where I wrote at Victoria Station and Waterloo   places tied to railway history and travel. I also reflected on moments like Queen Victoria giving a model train to King Rama IV, showing how stories and objects travel across time and space.  Looking ahead, the project will follow railway routes, collect stories and layer them into evolving records of memory, presence, and connection with people and places.

CNTRFLD. In a world that often prizes fast consumption and spectacle, your work emphasizes quiet observation and daily rituals. What do you hope audiences take away from spending time with your work?

AO. At the very least, I hope viewers experience a moment to slow down and choose their own way of engaging with the work. My practice often begins with observing overlooked details, and I quietly hope that by bringing these small points to attention, people can take time to explore them and find their own direction. The forms of the drawings, the words and sounds of the language—even those not immediately understood can create curiosity. Through the installation and placement of drawings, I try to leave space for personal time, reflection, and discovery.

CNTRFLD. Finally, what advice would you give to younger or emerging artists—especially those navigating questions of identity, language, and cultural belonging across borders?

AO. I’m still learning and adapting from artists of different generations, so I’m not sure how much advice I can give. I believe everyone has their own path and timing. What I can share from my own experience is that understanding your own work is always important. Reflecting on each piece after it’s finished helps you see what you’ve done and what comes next. Exchanging ideas with friends or people who follow your practice, even though simple conversations, can open new perspectives and also help you articulate what you do. As for questions of identity, language, and cultural belonging across borders, I’ve found that they unfold gradually through work, exchange, and spending sustained time with a place or community. Sometimes the answers don’t come immediately but reveal themselves over time through the process of making work.

About the artist.

Orawan Arunrak (b. 1985, Bangkok, Thailand) lives and works between Bangkok and Berlin. Her practice emerges from everyday life and small, often overlooked moments across different places. Using drawing, painting, text, performance, sound, and video, Arunrak explores how people, languages, and spaces intertwine, and how cultural memory and daily rituals persist. Her work frequently navigates national, cultural, and spiritual borders, examining likeness and difference through the lens of her experiences in both Asia and Europe.

Arunrak’s installations invite attentive engagement and shared presence, merging the spaces of art and non-art, while engaging local communities in dialogue. Her projects often incorporate stories, voices, and rituals from diverse contexts, creating immersive environments that reflect the dynamics of cultural interaction beyond conventional landmarks. Language, poetry, and storytelling are recurring elements, as seen in works such as Exit–Entrance (2016–17), which combined conversations in Thai, German, English, and Vietnamese, bringing together monks, nuns, anthropologists, and other interlocutors living across Asia and Europe.

Recent projects include Nirat of Parallel Rails (นิราศรางคู่), developed during her residency at the Delfina Foundation in London, which expands on her earlier Rituals on Walking (2022) and links personal and family experiences with broader explorations of survival, movement, and cultural memory. She is also participating in Ghost:2568 in Bangkok, curated by Christina Li, where her work continues to investigate displacement, spiritual presence, and collective storytelling.

Arunrak has exhibited widely, including at the Aranya Art Center (China, 2024), Kunstverein Hamburg (Germany, 2023), Künstlerhaus Bethanien (Berlin, 2023), KW Institute for Contemporary Art (Berlin, 2022), Bundeskunsthalle (Bonn, Germany, 2022), Hamburger Bahnhof – Museum für Gegenwart (Berlin, 2021), MAIIAM Contemporary Art Museum (Chiang Mai, Thailand, 2019), BANGKOK CITYCITY GALLERY (Bangkok, 2019, 2023), and the Centre for Contemporary Art Ujazdowski Castle (Warsaw, Poland, 2016), among others.

Through her practice, Arunrak creates meditative yet thought-provoking works that challenge perceptions of identity, culture, and belonging, offering audiences the opportunity to experience alternative ways of living, listening, and seeing.

orawanarunrak.com