The Power of Storytelling: Unveiling the Ghostly Experience in Bangkok
In the heart of Bangkok, a unique and captivating series, "Ghost:2568," unfolded, leaving an indelible mark on the city's artistic landscape. This final chapter in the "Ghost" series explored the city's essence, transforming it into a cinematic canvas and a narrative device.
As I embarked on my journey to Bangkok, a podcast resonated with me, describing storytelling as humanity's ultimate technology. This idea became a guiding thread throughout the festival, which the curators creatively dubbed a "song." A song, much like the festival, organizes experiences through rhythm and repetition, creating a layered and immersive journey.
"Ghost:2568" was an experience that transcended linear narratives. Its story unfolded through time and space, guided by the rhythms of the city's inhabitants, both human and non-human. The festival's narrative emerged organically, through anticipation, pauses, and a series of gestures that revealed themselves over time, leaving a lasting impression.
I had been intrigued by this collaborative gathering since its inception in 2018, and attending its farewell was my primary motivation for traveling to Bangkok. Curated by an exceptional team, including Amal Khalaf, Korakrit Arunanondchai, Christina Li, and Pongsakorn Yananissorn, "Ghost 2568 - Wish We Were Here" brought together a diverse group of international artists with deep connections to the region. The atmosphere was electric, with many visitors being friends, creating a sense of shared vision and collective presence.
My journey began at the festival's headquarters, Bangkok CityCity Gallery, which buzzed with energy. The gallery hosted captivating music performances and an arcade installation by the local fashion label, I Wanna Bangkok. Their video games transformed the brand's lore, casting players as alien goddesses haunting a school. The atmosphere was vibrant, with Giant Game Cartridge Sculptures and blinking lights creating a unique ambiance. In the second space, "Patience" by Daniel Lie, a vegetal installation, captivated with its wilted flowers and pulsating light, leaving an impression of life or death.
The festival's location scouting was meticulous, with a diverse range of spaces, from abandoned corporate buildings to chic hotels. It felt like a world within worlds, with stable narrative elements like video installations and more ephemeral experiences like live performances. The unique atmospheres, influenced by factors like traffic and weather, seemed to enhance the artworks, creating a harmonious synergy.
One memorable experience was witnessing Jeanne Penjan Lassus' "A Jewel in the Mud" in a desolate backyard by a canal. As the rain poured, the video's calm camera captured ambient passages and movements in murky water. The sound of water, both from the nearby river and the video, merged with the rain, creating a sensory experience. It reminded me of the potential encounters that surround us, much like the spectral figure in Rirkrit Tiravanija's augmented reality work, "untitled 2023 (sitcom ghost)."
Baan Thewes, a reclaimed riverside house, was a favorite venue. Here, a group of artists, led by midwife Tarini Graham, built a traditional birthing hut. The sensual backdrop of fragrant herbs introduced a deeply researched work, presenting birth as a ritual and a communal effort. This aligned with the festival's theme of "a song for human and non-human survival," emphasizing the collective nature of survival.
The "Bodies Dispossessed" section, organized by curator Christina Li, was particularly intriguing. Li revisited conversations from past editions, bringing Orawan Arunrak's "Nirat of Parallel Rails" to life. Inspired by the Thai poetic tradition, "nirat," the artist created a four-channel, two-part video, augmented with live song. Installed across two floors, this work captured the micro and macro aspects of the artist's continued migration.
Back at the headquarters, a performance by Berlin-based dancer and choreographer Adam Linder, "Mothering the Tongue," captivated the crowd. Linder's precise attention to gesture echoed the festival's exploration of form and its persistence. He was followed by Ashland Mines, whose poem and abrupt ending created a deliberate rupture, leaving the audience suspended.
What sets this iteration of "Ghost" apart is the casual intimacy with which artists present their work. Neither fully improvised nor theatrical, the spirit of "Ghost" emerges from friendship networks. This was evident in the works of Linder and Mines, as well as Ryan Trecartin, whose video works were located in an unexpected lobby of an agricultural machinery company. Shahryar Nashat, Linder's partner, presented a trilogy of works adapted for "Ghost" at Dib Bangkok, offering a preview of the country's first contemporary art museum.
The festival's strength lies in its ability to weave artworks into the city's lived experiences, attuning to rhythm and embodied sensations. Storytelling here is not mere decoration but an integral part of the city's infrastructure. Like a song carried through time, "Ghost" may end, but its spirit will persist, traveling and merging with other narrative technologies. We must ensure it continues to resonate.
Sarah Johanna Theurer, a curator focused on time-based art and technology, works to push the boundaries of exhibition formats. Her upcoming projects include "Echoes" and a distributed exhibition-making experiment, continuing to explore the intersection of art, time, and society.
