I’m surprised every time I’m asked why I am interested in khon and why I studied it. Is it so hard to believe that someone finds khon interesting? Why do people question my career choice? I don’t think a doctor, a police officer or an architect has this problem.
Khon is a career. I am a professional performer. I am the only one in my class who still dances professionally.
Thais don’t know how to watch khon. We go to a khon performance because it’s a disappearing tradition. We know the main characters, but not the minor ones, let alone the hidden messages of the performance and how it relates to society.
It’s all about practice, practice and practice. It’s essential for any kind of performer to tell a story and convey emotions through body language. And to be able to do that, you need to take it seriously. There are no shortcuts. It’s 80% hard work and 20% talent.
I have an unconventional teaching method. I don’t want khon to be just another extracurricular activity. I teach my students so that they can make a living from it. Those who come to me must have high self-discipline and be ready for hard, serious training.
I don’t want to monopolize my students with my thoughts. I let them freely express themselves. I don’t call them students. I call them colleagues. They can walk away from me anytime they want.
I am against the traditional mentor system. I trained in that system and I always had a problem with my teachers because we had different opinions. I learned to separate my body from my mind. I followed the required physical training and technique I was taught, but mentally I always questioned the system.
I was discouraged when I got criticized for contemporarizing khon. But I didn’t give up because I have faith in what I do. Really, is it a crime for making culture flourish? They should thank me, not accuse me of wrecking Thai culture.
I reinterpret khon movements and put them into a contemporary context. My performance, though based on a solid classical Thai dance background, is not traditional. I don’t do Ramakien. Instead, I aim to get attention from people at the international level and make them want to trace it back to the roots of my performance, which is traditional khon.
I am no different from a chef who cooks Thai food for foreigners. It requires a lot of alterations so that it appeals more to the international palette.
I believe my movements are mine. Every dancer should have their own. Everyone is trained with the same basics. Whether you can add yourself into those basics and develop them is the challenge.
It’s a long shot for Thai audiences to get to see our productions. But Chang Theater is a success, every production goes on tour.
I try to bring my productions back to my motherland. I ask for support but I never get it. I’m not asking much. I just want a venue. Say if the Thailand Cultural Center allows me to perform there for free, I’d do it right away.
When I make a profit from my overseas shows, I use that to stage a show in Thailand.
I am the only one in this world who can dance in this style. I might not be that great but I am good at what I do.
The future of Thai performing arts is at a standstill. It’s going downhill because no one truly cares. Look at Chalermkrung Theater, it costs B30 million a year to stage khon there, but the project is a failure. Give me that B30 million and I can stage khon for the next 50 years.
Those people aren’t performers. They are governmental officials. They don’t have to perform khon and they still get paid. I’m doing this for a living, the motivation and enthusiasm is different.
You need to show people that they can make a living from Thai classical dance, that it is valuable and that it can survive in the modern context. If we can do this, then there’s hope. We need to create a dance idol, someone tangible who can prove you can be something other than a teacher.
I am not that idol and I can’t be. It’s a sensitive issue because I’m playing with the culture. If they make me an idol, it means they approve of what I’m doing, which to them, is a stain on the culture.
I am determined to create a masterpiece that represents the country, to let the world know that this is from Thailand.
Against all odds, I’m staying here. My friends try to convince me to move abroad, saying I’d be better off outside Thailand. But I’m doing this for my country, for the next generation.
I might fail, but my failure can be a lesson not to follow in my footsteps.
My proudest achievement is to be a Thai dancer.
