INTERVIEW: Will There Be Morning Light in the Sleepless Nights
[ Exclusive Interview ] ARTIST: Atom Pavarit
1. Your work often conveys delicate layers of emotion through quiet, contemplative scenes, and this series in particular invites deeper reflection. Could you share what kind of moment or experience first sparked the idea for this body of work?
Atom: This feeling started growing after I graduated and moved back home—I had studied in another province before. For the past two years, I’ve been staying in the same place most of the time. I began to notice the changes happening around me, especially in nature, where the shifts are so clear and visible. Sometimes, I even knew how to influence or control those changes. But when I turned inward, I realized I didn’t know how to change myself, or even where I was in my life cycle. That was the first spark for this body of work. I began exploring whether there was something that connects both humans and nature—something that plays a vital role in our lives. And that’s when I arrived at light.
2. Your recent works seem to draw a lot from the quiet, everyday moments in life. What draws you to these “small things”?
Atom: Sunlight and moonlight used to guide our natural rhythms. But nowadays, those natural lights no longer play the same role in controlling our routines—artificial light has taken over. When I looked closely at my own daily life, I realized I wake up to the light from my phone and end the night under the light of my studio. So I began to pay attention to all these lights, capturing my routine from my eye-level view, as they quietly shape my everyday experiences.
3. As you commute between Bangkok and Pak Chong, two places with distinct rhythms and urban structures, has this shift in environment subtly influenced the way you observe and narrate through your work?
Atom: Pak Chong is more of a countryside area, where nature still exists as part of the city. The morning brightness from the sun and getting dark after sunset. Meanwhile, Bangkok never falls asleep, the city shines all day and night by the buildings. The public or nature space have been replaced by concrete structures, and sometimes they’re artificially recreated just to fulfill the city’s needs. It reminds me of all the things I saw in Pak Chong but never really paid attention to, yet in Bangkok, people are constantly searching for them.
4. If this body of work is seen as an interpretation of how we experience light in modern life, what would you like viewers to feel from the works? A sense of distance? Or perhaps a moment of quiet reflection?
Atom: It’s a sense of distance—but not just from nature, like trees or landscapes. It’s also a kind of distance from other human beings. The phrase “light will guide you home,” from Fix You by Coldplay, has stayed with me since high school. It speaks of light as a symbol of hope. And in my life, there is light that guides me—but the light I face every day doesn’t always make me feel like I’m heading anywhere. It creates a blurred line—I’m never quite sure which direction is leading me forward, or even where “home” truly is. Sometimes, it simply leads me into the next task, the next deadline, the next routine. It keeps me moving, but doesn’t necessarily bring me closer to a sense of rest or belonging. That’s the feeling I hope viewers might recognize too, a quiet tension between movement and stillness, between guidance and uncertainty.
5. The exhibition brief mentions that color plays a significant role in this collection, particularly your choice to leave parts of the canvas unpainted instead of using white pigment, as a way to convey the purity of light. Could you share more about this artistic decision and the intention behind your approach to painting in this body of work?
This idea came to me while I was working on the second piece in the series. I started to feel more strongly that light doesn’t really have a body, it’s not something we can hold or shape. It’s more about presence than form. So I decided to paint the light softly with transparent color, or leave it unpainted, avoiding the use of white. For me, this was a way to express the purity and quiet presence of light, without trying to define it too much.
6. In this collection, windows and screens seem to play a significant symbolic role. To you, are they boundaries, points of escape, or a way of viewing the world? Could you share how these elements have shaped your daily life or creative process—and whether they’ve become a kind of framework through which you observe and interpret space?
Windows and screens are both part of how I experience light every day, but in very different ways. A window is meant to connect you to the outside world—nature, weather, time passing but for me, it often becomes a background. I work facing my devices all day, with my back to the window. So even though natural light is there, I don’t really have a chance to appreciate it. Screens, on the other hand, are always in front of me. They are the light source that actually controls my routine—waking me up, guiding my work, and staying on until I fall asleep. So in a way, they’ve replaced windows. They’ve become the new frame through which I observe the world.
7. In this series, we’re often positioned indoors, looking outward. Would you say this perspective reflects a moment of quiet reflection, or does it suggest a symbolic distance between yourself and the world outside?
Atom: Actually, in most of the time, I’m indoors but not really looking outward. The outside world is often behind me. My focus is usually on my screen or workspace, and I only notice what’s outside when I stop and turn around. When I do look outward at the sunlight, trees, or people passing by—it feels distant, almost like watching a life I’m not really part of.
8. In contrast to your earlier works, which frequently placed human figures at the forefront, your recent creations seem to portray them more subtly, sometimes even receding into the background. Could you share what motivated this transition and whether there was a specific context or intention behind it?
Atom: I used to place the human figure as the main narrator of the story. But over time, I began to notice that the objects around them often played a bigger role—they were the ones shaping the human experience. In this series, I chose to focus more on those everyday objects, the ones that are part of my routine, and let them lead the narrative instead. I hope these details can lead viewers to reimagine who this person might be, how they live, and what kind of emotions or experiences they’re surrounded by.
9. As a Thai artist navigating both local and international art contexts, how does your cultural identity shape your creative language? Do you intentionally incorporate cultural references, or do they emerge more intuitively?
Atom: I believe that culture and environment shape the everyday life of people without them even realizing it. Having spent most of my life in Thailand, I think my work is inevitably influenced by Thai culture, even if I’m not always consciously aware of it. It’s something that seeps into my experience and naturally finds its way into my art.
10. Could you share if there are any upcoming projects you’re currently working on or thinking about? Has this exhibition inspired any new directions or shifts in your future practice?
Atom: I’m researching light as a symbol of hope, a representation that has been deeply ingrained in human culture for centuries. Whether natural or artificial, light has long been seen as a guiding force, something that leads us through darkness, gives us direction, and provides comfort in times of uncertainty.
