In what Susan Sontag would refer to as the democratisation of the human experience through photography, the exhibition "Something To Talk About" presents moments in the Deep South that have largely been overlooked by news media — moments of peace.
The works of the seven photographers, who are part of the Deep South Photojournalism (DSP) network, offer a glimpse into the daily lives of the locals that counter our familiar perception of southern violence — a child getting a haircut for Hari Raya, a man reflecting at the kubur (Muslim cemetery), a soldier playing a Naga-shaped mandolin, and so on. The works are on show at Speedy Grandma on Charoen Krung 28 until tomorrow.
"Violence overshadows everything," says photographer Piyasak Ausap. "The works of DSP suggest an alternative to the newspapers. It shows what is really going on. It shows the variety of life."
As the peace dialogue has been put on hold and as the situation remains as uncertain as ever, the vague clouds that seem to surround the Deep South — when viewed from the centre of Bangkok — haven't dissipated. Selective reporting limits us to witness just a dissected part of reality of faraway places. Conveniently, it is much easier to ingenuously be appalled by images of atrocities than to put in the effort to imagine and understand how life persists, in its beauty and ugliness, in places plagued by violence.
The photographs at Speedy Grandma, pasted on the white concrete walls of the small gallery, question what has been deemed consequential and what has been rendered trivial in what we know of the insurgency.
"They are stories about people," says curator Worathep Akkabootara. "They reveal life from a local perspective, how religious life remains religious life. They show people preparing food for breaking fast at sundown. They show children attending school as required by the state while also keeping up with their religious beliefs."
"The violence is a part of everyday occurrences. Reporters are often criticised for only 'selling' news on the violence," explains Piyasak, who was a reporter for Isranews Agency. "But the fact is, if the victim happens to be family, you'd want that story in the news. And if you write these stories, you hardly have time to write about other things."
The Path by Ibrohem Masoh.
The works of DSP capture other stories. In opposition to the ways that news stories of the Deep South are aggressive and confrontational, these photos are sentimental, subdued and discreet. They seek to draw out the common human experience, to draw a compassionate response. They serve a social purpose.
"The photos serve as a bridge between people. When you get to know one another more, less judgement is made," says Piyasak.
He adds that in such a complex conflict, photography, as a medium, is a much more efficient form of communication than words, which are more sensitive. "It's easier to understand. A universal feeling."
Anumat Rattanaphan's series of photos tells the story of the "Communist Doctor" who practices traditional Chinese medicine. Anumat is a public health officer at Klongmaning Health Promotion Hospital in Pattani.
The photos portray Mueyea, a woman wearing a hijab, practicing acupuncture.
"I had always heard about her and imagined her to be of Chinese descent," says Anumat.
"Mueyea was tapping rubber in Amphoe Bannangsta in Yala when she was abducted by the communists. She was recruited and trained in alternative medicine with the communist army medical service. When she returned, she used her knowledge to help the community."
In the same way that photographs in the news need captions to accompany a story, the meaning of the exhibited photos are deeply embedded in time and place, in history. The backstories are not on display in the gallery but an extensive catalogue, which also includes brief biographies of the photographers, is available.
Anumat is also part of a subgroup of DPS, Photo Peace of South (PPS), which focuses specifically in taking only photos of peace in the region. "We want to capture the beauty of the region," he says.
PPS hold events and exhibitions. The proceeds go to orphanages in the area, sometimes to buying new clothes for orphans to wear on Hari Raya.
The exhibitions in local public spaces are also important in garnering an understanding between the photographers and locals, both civilians and the authorities.
"At first, if you have a camera, either people think you are a spy, or the police think you are related to a terrorist group," Anumat says.
The authorities often take in the photographers to make copies of their identification cards as a preventive measure. There are cases where civilians have reported photographers to the authorities for suspicious behaviour.
"After the coup, the peace talks that began last year were disrupted. As the violence has escalated in recent months, people have become more wary of the motives of the photographers," adds Piyasak. "The exhibitions show them what we are all about."
Piyasak's series "Fate Of Pattani" presents a different predicament the locals face.
"If you look at the photo of the three women at the beach, and read the title, you might interpret sadness, a sense of waiting, a sense of hope in the crisis. But really, it's a story about the problem of rapid coastal erosion."
Beyond the vastness and calmness of the sea, the photos capture how the locals have constructed rows of cement pillars in the water to break the waves and slow down erosion, an unsuccessful effort. For them, the problem of coastal erosion is just as threatening as the bombing of a school.
"There is much more beyond the violence," Piyasak continues. "There are stories of family units falling apart, of the patriarch of the family being killed, of women and children being left behind to cope on their own."
"Something To Talk About" focuses on different stories, each with their own specificity. Other works in the exhibition include serene moments captured by Thanasan Sricham, Mumadsorey Deng and Chuutsana Samansap.
Chairat Jirojmontree introduces a series on children in marginalised communities. Ibrohem Masoh's photos show soldiers on guard at KM23 of Route 410 to Betong next to a photo of a quiet path through the jungle. The power of these series of photos derives from the particular contrast to the images readily available to the public on the media. They are not singular but are laden with humanism. They stand opposed to images of people made to creep on their bellies with their hands tied to their backs, of soldiers with rifles next to crying children, of broken windows and clouds of smoke and bloodstained walls. The moments of peace and quiet carry as much weight as moments of trauma, and perhaps deserve more attention. They broaden our cultural understanding of the conflict. They are about life.
"Something To Talk About" shows us that in a place where more than 6,000 civilians have been killed, and more than 10,000 injured over the past decade, conversations and communication can take on more nuances.
Pondok Student by Mumadsorey Deng.
Photo by Chairat Jirojmontree, taken in Don Pla Soi, Khong District, Champasak, Lao People’s Democratic Republic, in June.
