In October 2018, my wife and I visited Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok. We returned a second time because there was far more to see than we could absorb in a single visit. Known locally as JJ Market, Chatuchak is an enormous network of stalls and narrow passages, where shopping, cooking, work and conversation unfold side by side. I was interested less in making a catalogue of goods than in photographing the people who gave the market its character.
The market has a long history as a centre for traders in Bangkok. Its many sections offer clothing, books, antiques, plants, ceramics, furniture, food and an astonishing variety of other things. Walking through it, I often lost the sense of where one section ended and another began. The mixture of merchandise and human activity was part of its attraction, and every turn seemed to offer a new subject for my camera.
One of the people we met was Alfredo, a Spaniard preparing paella in full view of the visitors. He cooked with an energy that turned an ordinary food stall into a small performance. His colourful presence, the food and the reactions of people around him made a lively scene. For me, these moments are an essential part of street photography: a person absorbed in work can reveal the atmosphere of a place more vividly than a general view.
Elsewhere in the market we saw people offering massage, an everyday service that appeared amid the crowded stalls and walkways. We passed second-hand bookshops, souvenir sellers and street-food vendors. The constant movement of shoppers contrasted with the concentration of those working in small spaces. I found myself stopping repeatedly to observe gestures, expressions and brief exchanges between strangers.
During our visit, we also met a transgender person working in the market. Before travelling to Thailand, I had associated the visibility of transgender people there mainly with entertainment, an assumption that this encounter made me reconsider. I wanted to make a photograph but was uncertain whether the person would welcome it. Instead of taking an uninvited close-up, I asked to make a picture together with my wife. The resulting photograph became part of our memories of the visit. I cannot claim that a single encounter describes anyone’s experience or the position of transgender people throughout Thai society, but it did remind me to question my own expectations.
Chatuchak is sometimes described through its size and visitor numbers. Those figures may convey its scale, but they do not explain what it feels like to spend time there. I remember the heat, the crowded passages, the smell of food, the books and small objects on display, and above all the people whose work made the market function.
When I look back at these photographs, I see more than a famous Bangkok shopping destination. I see a collection of short encounters from two visits: a cook entertaining customers, workers providing services, traders among their goods, and people briefly sharing a moment with a travelling photographer. That is the Chatuchak I wanted to remember.