Several Artists

005: Tim Irani

2025-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Into the MultAIverse</h4>
Welcome to Issue 005 of Several Artists</a>! Back from the dead</del> distracted!
Tim Irani: Outside in, 2024

***On a recent trip to Santa Monica I found the work of* Tim Irani</a> at Richard Heller</a>, one of the better galleries at Bergamont</a> Station.
At first glance his work seemed uncanny, but little did I know it was sourced from the Uncanny Valley itself. My initial take was that it looked like contemporary South-East Asian work but with a little too much Blue Rider</a> from art-history class. In a quite charming way! Almost — too charming to be real?
Turns out, it is both real and not. Irani did some minimal training (presumably fine-tuning) of an AI model with his own work, then generated a bunch of images, then reworked those as his (presumably human) brain saw fit, and finally selected elements to use in the oil paintings. If I understood the setup correctly, the final composition was in fact from the human and not the robot.
You can see for yourself that the images are pretty interesting, and have a very specific look, though at this juncture I would not immediately recognize that look as “AI.” Certainly it’s far from the Hallucinatory Wing of AI Art, and not exactly close to the Plagiarist / Ghibli Wing either. But you know, it gets harder each day to tell the “real” from the “gen.”
I should add that in opposition to the urge, now nearly universal, to make the size of artworks inversely proportional to the effort used to construct the originals, these are modest in size and would look damn good on your wall, Dear Collector. I’m not blabbing about prices but I found them reasonable.
The particular challenge of these pictures is that they are both original physical paintings, and unambiguously also the product of generative AI — and not in the normal sense of prompt-for-slop. The AI is bound in early in the creative process, enough that if these machines were intelligent (are they? are we?) then it would only do to call it a collaboration.
And that’s something worth chewing on for a bit. The discourse around generative AI usually splits between the Doomers</a>, who see it as an existential threat to the humanity of cultural endeavor; and the other side, let’s call them the Knollites</a>, who see it as more or less analogous to Photoshop and expect it to usher in a Cambrian explosion of human creativity in which the beautiful will at least hold its own against the slop.
But Tim Irani is jacking into the matrix before it even gets to the slop farm. What if your AI is your partner in crime? What if it’s the Vincent</a> to your Paul</a>, or even the Theo</a> to your Vincent? What if it’s as an assistant is to Koons, or as a wife? What if instead of prompts, you deal in Life Lessons</a>? What if all this is the other way around?
About these things, you are invited to think as you contemplate these actually quite lovely paintings. And also: has everyone here busted out the ouija</a> board to ask Franz Marc</a> what he thinks?

Tim Irani: Fawn, 2025






****

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2025 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2025 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.
Disclaimer</h3>
I make art, and I also collect art. If I own art by any of the artists featured in the Several Artists newsletter at the time of writing, I will call that out. This may not be done retroactively; and you should keep in mind that I want to own art by every single artist I write about, and you should want to own their art too.

004: BeChanida, Hurst, Hananuntasuk

2023-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Abstract in Bangkok</h4>
Welcome to Issue 004 of Several Artists</a>! Just in time (somewhere) for the outer edge of 2023. In writing habits and in all else, may 2024 be a better year!
For this issue I am pleased to introduce you two three artists doing classic nonobjective abstraction, and converging on Bangkok: the Thai artists Chanida Aroonrungsi (aka BeChanida) and Somyot Hananuntasuk; and the American Trey Hurst.
Of course Asia does not lack for abstract painting, even if the current fashion is trending pop. Just think of the great masters of Chinese, Japanese and Korean abstraction. There are major bodies of work that glance only fleetingly at the Post-War Occident.
And then there are those in the East who make a distinctly Western style of abstraction, though strongly influenced – obviously, one would hope – by their native land. Bechanida and Hananuntasuk are painters of this kind, the first diving headfirst into the international Abstract Expressionist style, the second having found his way to a very “Continental” style of painting during his many years living in Bavaria.
Hurst is the opposite: coming from the heart of the modern West, his practice yields paintings with an Asian vibe, and if you saw them in a gallery in Bangkok, as I have done twice, you would not at first guess they were from a Western artist. He too is swimming against the trends, and we are the beneficiaries of that exercise.

BeChanida is what the Germans call a Quereinsteiger – she came to art after a career in travel. And once there, she quickly arrived at Abstract Expressionism as her primary style.
A big BeChanida (sorry, I lost the title).
These are fun paintings, right? But there’s also a lot of earnestness to them, a lot of the personal, which is what we look for in the abstract. That human spark, that trace of the struggle against the perfection of the blank canvas, a struggle that marks every one of us who would seek to make a picture out of nothing but the physical paint.
A medium-sized BeChanida (ditto).
BeChanida installation view at MeArt</a> – small paintings FTW!

Trey Hurst is mostly painting (and often drawing, and sometimes weaving) a sort of flow – a meandering flow, like the rivers of Southeast Asia.
Trey Hurst: Tributaries, one of several. Acrylic on canvas.
Hurst is one of the few Western artists to exhibit regularly in Bangkok, and I’m happy to see his very formal, very process-based art as a counterweight to the more “urban” fare you see at Aurum</a> – which I also love, but…
Trey Hurst: Atchafalaya 2 Acrylic on woven canvas.
The work here rewards close inspection, and viewing from different angles. Follow the lines, follow the flow.
Detail of a Trey Hurst painting, with reflections.

Somyot Hananuntasuk arrived long ago in Munich as a detail-obsessed, nearly photorealist artist in the modern Thai tradition, and then, suddenly it would seem, around 1990 became a German Abstractionist, of the fully gegenstandslos variety. Since probably half my own oeuvre is in the same bucket, I approve of this choice!
Somyot Hananuntasuk: 2001 - 40. Oil on canvas, 57x70cm.
I hesitate to call Hananuntasuk an elder statesman of Thai-European abstraction, first because he’s not really that old; second because he’s quite youthful for someone older than your humble author; and finally because I had a chat with him once and he was not in the least bit uptight or stately. But, that having been said, he does appear to carry some weight in the local Bangkok art world.
Somyot Hananuntasuk: 2022 - 26. Oil on canvas, 40x50cm.
These shapes, these imagined worlds – are we sure there is nothing of Nonthaburi</a> in there? It’s not for me to say, but I do suspect there is a bit of Thailand in the shape of the line, and no doubt some of Bavaria in the push of the brush.
Somyot Hananuntasuk: 2001 - 07. Oil on hardboard, 70x50cm.

Links</h3>
BeChanida Web Site</a></li>
BeChanida Instagram</a></li>
BeChanida Paints on YouTube</a></li>
Somyot Hananuntasuk at Rama9Art</a></li>
Somyot Hananuntasuk Instagram</a></li>
Somyot Hananuntasuk Paints on YouTube</a></li>
Trey Hurst Web Site</a></li>
Trey Hurst Instagram</a></li>
Trey Hurst Paints on YouTube</a></li> </ul>
I guess everybody paints on YouTube these days! Cool.
Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.
Disclaimer</h3>
I make art, and I also collect art. If I own art by any of the artists featured in the Several Artists newsletter at the time of writing, I will call that out. This may not be done retroactively; and you should keep in mind that I want to own art by every single artist I write about, and you should want to own their art too.

003: Ruznic, Maciá

2023-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Please see the pronunciation notes at the end of this issue.
Welcome to Issue 003 of Several Artists</a>! Yes, we finally rebooted! Sorry for the delays, writer’s block is “a thing,” &c.
For this issue – dateline Bangkok, 22 October 2023 – I bring you two artists who are, and are not, New Mexicans: Maja Ruznic and Oswaldo Maciá.
Their styles couldn’t be further apart, but their art shares something more than a connection to the Land of Enchantment</a>: both artists address the universal human experience, and the migratory imagination essential to its long historic core.
Both have what the Germans call Migrationshintergrund – a “migratory background,” a life lived across borders – as does your humble author. This is a thing that has always expressed itself in the art of those thus backgrounded, from diasporas to internal exile</a> – like it or not, it’s there.
Another thing that connects Ruznic and Maciá is a touch of the shamanistic</a>, which I believe will be self-evident in the pictures below. They both come from places with an outsized share of ghosts.

Maja Ruznic: The Split/The Beginning, 2023, oil on linen, 254x193 cm
Maja Ruznic was born in what is now Bosnia and Hercegovina</a> – a gorgeous corner of the world steeped, alas, in bloody conflict. (I highly recommend Ivo Andric</a> to the curious. And of course going there</a>, it’s completely safe now.)
She moved to the United States in the 1990’s as a result of the most recent Bosnian War, and the trauma of that war and the refugee experience feature prominently in her work.
I’ve been following her on social media for some time, but only recently had a chance to see the work in real life, at Karma Gallery in Los Angeles. It was rewarding, to put it mildly: these big paintings sing, or perhaps hum, from beneath the subdued hues of their paint.
Maja Ruznic: The Force Field, 2023, oil on linen, 178x127 cm
Maja Ruznic: Geometry of Exile, 2023, oil on linen, 239x193 cm
One of the best things about Ruznic’s new work is how much of it is figurative while really not being figurative at all, and yet so very figurative. You can’t help but bounce back and forth between seeing real characters, and seeing abstract shapes hinting at characters.
This abstraction of the figure – a bit more extreme than you find in typical abstract figurative</a> work – calls to mind the fragmented walls of ancient Babylon.
Holographic Anxiety Propeller, 2023, oil on linen, 228x178 cm
And then there’s the straight-up crazy imagery: the Insect Gods</a> and the denizens of Holographic Earth</a>. I do hope we see a lot more of this in the years to come. Note to self: win lottery, buy propeller bug painting!
March of Holographic Children, 2023, oil on linen, 254x193 cm
One of the things Ruznic is known for is the watercolorishness of her large-format oil paintings. To coin a phrase, oof: it sounds so much better to call it Aquarelligkeit, thank you Mr Goethe. The one above captures this pretty well, and it’s one of those rare things that surprise you by having quite the same effect live, at two and a half meters high, as in a picture on a glowing screen.
The final, most important thing I want to say about Maja Ruznic today is that she’s painting outside of place and time. In a good way. I’ve spent a lot of time in Europe, and this isn’t quite that; and it’s certainly not New Mexico, though in some way it has to be (she lives there). If it’s California, it’s only because she could have a very bright future in Los Angeles. I think this work is a sort of new international semi-abstract, and I will be on the lookout for others mining the same vein.

Oswaldo Maciá: Vulture (from Cruces)
Oswaldo Maciá comes from Cartagena de Indias</a> in Colombia, and has been an internationalist by choice for much of his life. I had the good fortune to discover his work in the form of an audio-and-painting installation at the Vladem Contemporary in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where the artist lives some of the time.
It would be unfair to show only his paintings, since he is primarily an installation artist and the paintings are merely one part of the work. But they’re really good paintings, so I give myself license.
Maciá deals with the migratory in both the literal, animalistic sense, and also in the sense of our human migrations across lines on the map (whose map?) and between states of being. Do we even know our migrations? Is there even such a thing as a background?
Oswaldo Maciá: Bird (from Cruces)
Oswaldo Maciá: Bat (from Cruces)
The works above are modest in size. No exact dimensions were given in the installation, but I estimate they’re somewhere close to 30x40cm. The Ruznic paintings are gigantic by comparison, but fear not: Maciá has some massive work as well, and not just the four-dimensional auditory sort.
Oswaldo Maciá: Root (from Cruces)
Here we go! This is wall-sized, and very much of the people in that it has no fancy stretcher behind it. Just canvas tacked to the wall. Getting at the root</a> of things.
Oswaldo Maciá: Darién Gap (from Cruces)
And now we get to the, er, crux of the Cruces installation: the migrations visualized, or as they like to say in the Art World: the global positions. Unfortunately I could not bring a recording of the sound portion of this installation. There was simply too much background noise from the railyard on the day I visited. But I do take seriously the audio (and in some cases olfactory) parts of Maciás’s work, and I hope to encounter another installation so I can dig deeper into the nonvisual aspects.
And the Darién Gap</a> looks like an interesting place, and as far as I can see a tragic one. A reason to migrate, if you can’t stay, but plenty of reasons to stay if you can.

Links</h3>

Maja Ruznic Web Site</a></li>
Maja Ruznic Instagram</a></li>
Maja Ruznic: Geometry of Exile at Karma LA</a></li>
Maja Ruznic and Joshua Hagler: Juxtapose Presents video</a></li>
Maja Ruznic Hopper Prize Interview</a></li>
Maja Ruznic Future Tongue Interview</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá Web Site</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá Wikipedia</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá Instagram</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá at Vladem Contemporary Santa Fe</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá Short Interview in Santa Fe New Mexican</a></li>
Oswaldo Maciá at Site Santa Fe in 2021</a></li> </ul>
Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.
Disclaimer</h3>
I make art, and I also collect art. If I own art by any of the artists featured in the Several Artists newsletter at the time of writing, I will call that out. This may not be done retroactively; and you should keep in mind that I want to own art by every single artist I write about, and you should want to own their art too.
Pronunciation Notes</h3>

Ruznic uses the Americanized pronunciation of her last name: RUHZ-nick, and Maja is pronounced MAI-ya.</li>
Maciá should (I think) be mah-see-AH and Oswaldo is Ahs-WALD-oh but my Spanish is débil.</li> </ul>
Sorry if the phoenetic spelling is unclear. There’s a lot of ambiguity to deal with if you take into account non-native readers. Corrections from the artists are welcome.

002: Chantranet, Sritrakulkitjakarn

2023-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

Please see the pronunciation notes at the end of this issue.
Welcome to Issue 002 of Several Artists</a>! For this, the April 2023 issue, I will show you two contemprary Thai artists who take radically different approaches to depicting the world they live in: Krit Chantranet and Verapong Sritrakulkitjakarn.
But first, an apology from your humble host, author, critic, for missing a little more than a month: “sorry for late,” as they say in my area</a>. For a couple weeks I thought I would just go with “Covid ate my Homework”</a> but by now I have to admit it was writer’s block. Hopefully over, for now: I will try to catch up with an extra issue in May.

Krit Chantranet is doing figurative painting in what until recently we probably would have called the muscular fashion, and in his case I think we can still get away with that term, if only because of his paintings of bodybuilders and athletes. For context: Muay Thai boxing is very mainstream in Thailand; bodybuilding is very fringe. When was the last time you saw a serious contemporary artist treating bodybuilders as subjects respectfully? Mapplethorpe</a>?

Much of Chantranet’s work is very straighforward, the painter’s-painter sort of thing: bold, sometimes brazen brushwork, an obvious love of the physicality of oil paint. A lot of those saturated greens you see everywhere in Thailand. The joy of fresh water, of the countryside, of the flora.
But then some of the figures start to fade. Are we sure of this reality? Did we really see those people?

I find this work fascinating, especially now: we are living in a time when corporations and the governments that serve them are aggressively trying to erase the line between what is human and what is machine; what is mind and what is software; what is freedom and what is safety.

When we are enmeshed in the daily rituals of civilization, we have the physicality of a boxer, and of a consumer. But when we step into the forest, we can be animals, we can become the forest itself. We can fade to green.


Verapong Sritrakulkitjakarn is traveling an altogether different road, while also making bold paintings of and about Thailand. This is still oil on canvas, but of the denser kind, and meticulously composed.
It covers so many motifs and topics, and the canvases are so large and full, that it’s frankly hard to take it all in. Here we can thank the age of mechanical reproduction for some digital help.

As a newbie in the Thai art world, I have no idea how to interpret most of this work, but it’s one heck of ride in the gallery. My best guess is that monks should not own fancy watches; turtles and elephants are good; robots and insects are ambivalent but probably related; fish can actually fly if you think about it; NFTs are a joke; and the military should consider checking its privilege. But who am I to say? I could have it all backwards.

I got a particular thrill from the random everyday things and pop-culture references woven into this tapestry of overdriven vision. It’s enough to make you, I dunno, examine your priors maybe.


One thing I really like about these two painters is the solidity of their respective visual styles and interests. To say the quiet part out loud: lots of people can paint like this in 2023, especially when you exit the West and get into more traditional training regimens; but very few have anything interesting to say. Chantranet and Sritrakulkitjakarn very much do.

Postscript: The Law of Coincidence</h3> Here’s a funny thing. I wasn’t planning to write about these two artists in this edition of Several Artists</a> – I knew they were both interesting and would show up here eventually, but I had originally planned for this edition to be about three abstract artists, and the next edition to include Chantranet. I wasn’t sure I had a proper “pairing” for Sritrakulkitjakarn yet.
So I kind of threw them together early because I wasn’t ready with the other things, and they were too good to just leave indefinitely. And just now, Dear Reader, I have discovered that these two artists had a show together!
It was back in 2012 – well before my time in Asia – and it was called “INSANE.” Mad props to artbangkok.com</a> for keeping an archive of this, especially since the gallery’s website has since gone dark. Long live the archivists!
Links</h3>
Chantranet Insta</a></li>
Chantranet @ 333 Everywhere</a></li>
Sritrakulkitjakarn Insta</a></li>
Sritrakulkitjakarn Blog</a></li>
Sritrakulkitjakarn @ Number 1 Gallery</a></li> </ul>
Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.
Disclaimer</h3>
I make art, and I also collect art. If I own art by any of the artists featured in the Several Artists newsletter at the time of writing, I will call that out. This may not be done retroactively; and you should keep in mind that I want to own art by every single artist I write about, and you should want to own their art too.
Pronunciation Notes</h3>
Transliteration of Thai words is complicated. I have used the artists’ preferred Latin spellings. The following is my humble attempt at writing the Thai names from this issue, for an International English audience, as they might be spoken:

Krit Chantranet (กริช จันทรเนตร) == Krit Jantaranaet</li>
Verapong Sritrakulkitjakarn (วีรพงษ์ ศรีตระกูลกิจการ) == Weerapong See-dtragun-git-ja-gaan</li> </ul>
Corrections from native speakers are welcome.

001: Krisanamis, Thavee, Baiposuwan

2023-02-16T00:00:00+00:00

Several Artists from Thailand.</h3>
Please see the pronunciation notes at the end of this issue.
Welcome to Issue 001 of Several Artists</a>! For this, the February 2023 issue, I’m happy to present three Thai artists whose work I had the privilege to see over the last months. These artists have markedly different styles, which is typical of art in Bangkok – even if you live and work in a mountain jungle or on a tropical island, if you’re rich or poor, young or old – all roads of Contemporary Art lead to “BKK” here.
The Thai capital has the most dynamic art scene in South-East Asia, despite a certain banking center attracting more money and with it, press. This owes a lot to the cambrian explosion of methods, projects and aesthetics being pursued by the many artists of this region and its leading metropolis. If you’re here, come to the shows! And even if you’re not, take note: If Hong Kong is Basel, Bangkok is Berlin. But with much better food!

Udomsak Krisanamis is one of the better-known Thai artists internationally, and if you go to survey shows in Thailand you definitely see his work, but I admit I wouldn’t have matched the name to the works until I came to see his mesmerizing show at Gallery VER in Bangkok. This is an artist pushing big, messy ideas and doing it in a way that’s as ambiguous and disorderly as a life intensely lived.
The show was all over the place, in a good way. From abstract paintings to woodblock prints to text experiments to a Giacometti taking a selfie to straight-up (but witty) Arte Povera to a toy race track with working racecars, Krisanamis has a lot going on.
And these, uh, cavemen? These are the Non-Modern Men. One is the Krisanamis, the other may or may not be Thailand’s most internationally famous contemporary artist, Rirkrit Tiravanija.

I love interactive installations, and art that invites play. Toy race cars are a great feature – the viewers were free to turn them on and off (they’re loud!) and otherwise do as they like with them. But at this show there was another more intense play option: a ping-pong table, equipped with golf balls!
This, gentle reader, is something that had never occurred to me before. And I confess I was too cautious to try it out, because my ping-pong ninja fu is probably sufficient to break the fridge (there was a fridge) but not score any points.

As with most artists who have a sense of fun and the playful nature of art, Krisanamis has a lot of serious ideas underpinning the joy. Take the Giacometti Selfie sculpture: it’s a chuckle at first, but if you’ve been to any shows with under-30’s you have probably notices that the selfie is more important than the looking. So much so that a lot of artists now include an obvious “selfie-station” work in any solo exhibition. In the age of social media this has become a common, almost standard practice – but is that a good thing?
Krisanamis invites us to consider: if the selfie is more important than the art, why not just have the art do the selfie itself?

Yes, it’s fun. And it’s serious. And it’s seriously fun. These things are all quite at home in good art, and in my experience the Thai tradition of contemporary art (a very young tradition indeed) gives plenty of room to enjoy yourself while also getting into the deep-mind aethetics of a rich and rewarding mix of cultures.

In closing I want to point out that Krisanamis has a lot of work that can absolutely stand on its own in any contemporary gallery, Kunsthalle or museum. The remarkable thing about him is that in addition to the high-polish International Contemporary work, he’s not afraid to let the mess out like a Fluxus happening in 1968.



Chatcha Thavee is the other kind of artist. The not-so-messy kind.
Thavee is a painter of ordered worlds. Of systems. But while they look at first like almost computational, generative fields of structure, on closer examination they reveal themselves to be very much of human origin.

Another Chiang Mai artist, she happens to be showing in the same complex as Krisanamis, at VS Gallery, as I write this.
The accompanying text shows us that the pictures are intensely personal for the artist. Just to pick one, which you will have to search for as I did not photograph it:

I never knew my real grandmother. She was the first of 4 wives of my grandfather who migrated from China. I was told though that I look like her. She was also an artist. </blockquote>
The title of that painting is “First of 4 wives” and it’s a real trip. But words are tricky guides to images. Which thing is worth a thousand of the other is never quite settled.
The strength of Thavee’s paintings is in their depth, with or without the backstory. They challenge you to think about what they can, or should, mean if they are made by a computer, or by a human, or – the fast-approaching future – a little bit of each. And then as you get closer, you start to feel the human hand, and then your attention begins to switch between the possibilities as you stand before the painted canvas.
Like golf balls across the ping-pong table of tomorrow’s philosophy.


To wrap up this first official issue of Several Artists, I bring you: Pacharaporn “Jeentee” Baiposuwan. In my opinion a seriously underrated artist, doing a lot of work on paper, which of course is a seriously underrated form.
At her group show in River City Bangkok last year I had the opportunity to speak with this artist briefly. Her work reflects dreamscapes and Buddhist themes. What I love about Baiposuwan’s work is that you can go deep on the themes, or you can just look closely and love it for the richness of its imagery.
One of the interesting things about Baiposuwan is her evolution. A few years ago she was painting much more abstract, non-objective, ethereal pictures. (Says the Internet, anyway!) And now we have even greater mysteries, in the objective realm.
The works below are ridiculously affordable, if they’re still available. Underrated works on paper. Just sayin’. This is an artist you will see a lot more of one day.


Thank you for reading this issue of Several Artists. Please consider subscribing</a> if you have not already done so
Special thanks to Pearamon Tulavardhana of Gallery VER for giving my BKK Art Galleries</a> Meetup group some valuable background information on Udomsak Krisanamis.
Links</h3>
The following links are the best I could find, because Artists. Many still don’t have a proper web presence, and are beholden to their galleries, social media or the search giants. I hope the AI Overlords can fix that soon.

Krisanamis show at VER</a></li>
Krisanamis on Artsy</a></li>
Krisanamis at BKK Art Biennale</a></li>
Krisanamis at Art Basel</a></li>
Thavee at Meeting Room</a> – these photos are much better than mine!</li>
Thavee at VS via Art City</a></li>
Thavee on Facebook</a></li>
Baiposuwan on Instagram</a></li>
Baiposuwan on Artsy</a></li>
Baiposuwan older abstract work</a></li> </ul>
Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2022/2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.
Disclaimer</h3>
I make art, and I also collect art. If I own art by any of the artists featured in the Several Artists newsletter at the time of writing, I will call that out. This may not be done retroactively; and you should keep in mind that I want to own art by every single artist I write about, and you should want to own their art too.
Pronunciation Notes</h3>
Transliteration of Thai words is complicated. I have used the common Latin spellings, which are not phonetic. The following is my humble attempt at writing the Thai names from this issue, for an International English audience, as they might be spoken:

Udomsak Krisanamis (อุดมศักดิ์ กฤษณมิษ) == Udom-sak Krit-sana-mit</li>
Rirkrit Tiravanija (ฤกษ์ฤทธิ์ ตีระวนิช) == Ruakrit Tee-rawanit</li>
Chatcha Thavee (ชัชชา ทวี) == Chat-chaa Tha-wee</li>
Pacharaporn “Jeentee” Baiposuwan (จีนที พัชราภรณ์ ใบโพธิ์สุวรรณ) == Jeen-Tee (or Jee-na-Tee?) Pat-chalaa-pawn Bai-pho-suwan</li> </ul>
Native Thai speakers are welcome to send corrections!

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs</em> (c) Copyright 2022/2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself</em> (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Several Artists

005: Tim Irani

004: BeChanida, Hurst, Hananuntasuk

003: Ruznic, Maciá

002: Chantranet, Sritrakulkitjakarn

001: Krisanamis, Thavee, Baiposuwan

Several Artists

005: Tim Irani

004: BeChanida, Hurst, Hananuntasuk

Copyrights</h3> Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

003: Ruznic, Maciá

Copyrights</h3> Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

002: Chantranet, Sritrakulkitjakarn

Copyrights</h3> Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

001: Krisanamis, Thavee, Baiposuwan

Copyrights</h3> Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Photographs as photographs</em> (c) Copyright 2022/2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p> Artwork itself</em> (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>

Copyrights</h3>
Text (c) Copyright 2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Photographs as photographs</em> (c) Copyright 2022/2023 Kevin Frost, all rights reserved.</p>
Artwork itself</em> (c) Copyright the respective artists, all rights reserved.</p>