This is the third episode of The Monochrome Chronicles featuring street life in Bangkok. The location is Chinatown, but forget about the usual stereotype of Chinatown with bright neon lights, crowded sidewalks and an over-abundance of Chinese restaurants. Yes, Chinatown’s main street, Yaowarat Road, conforms to the stereotype, but a mere block away is the antithesis, a hidden-away world centered on a nighttime flea market, a magnet that has drawn me and my camera repeatedly for over 15 years.
This section of Bangkok’s Chinatown is a rich source for street photography at night, including the vendors who set up their stalls on the sidewalks just off the main area of Chinatown. Hordes of locals and tourists flock to the restaurants on the main street, but I prefer the quiet of the side streets. These images reside at the intersection between my night photography and my street photography. I guess I have to acknowledge that I am basically a night person, and definitely not an early morning person. This is just my biology, my innate circadian rhythm. I am more alert and more free at night.
On this back street just a block away from Yaowarat Road, pedestrians were few and the atmosphere was quiet except for traffic noise. The atmosphere in this image is one of expectation with a hint of foreboding.
Just down the street was a sidewalk flea market. Vendors would set up makeshift stalls, some of them no more than a plastic tarp spread on the sidewalk. The goods, most of which were second-hand, ran the gamut from clothes, housewares, watches, and magazines to Buddhist amulets. This woman had only a single cardboard box on which to display her goods for sale. The woman herself was so intent on what she was doing that she seemed to have created her own world.
In sharp contrast to Chinatown’s main street only a block away, the atmosphere in the flea market was distinctively low key. Often vendors outnumbered their patrons and they negotiated in hushed voices. This image calls to me for two reasons. First, the vendor was looking directly into my camera, a violation of one of the rules of street photography for it shows that the subject was influenced by my camera. Second is his gesture – what does it say? Photography is a language without words.
Most of the vendors and customers ignored me, so I could become an invisible observer. The atmosphere in this sidewalk flea market was markedly quiet. Customers were few and the vendors often sat silently waiting. Or they chatted quietly with other vendors. Especially for amulet vendors, potential buyers might spend a long time silently examining the amulets. In this image, the vendor’s patience is evident.
Some of the vendors at the flea market sold amulets – small images of the Buddha or other figures, usually either stone or metal. For some Thai people, they have religious meaning while for others they are collector’s items or are worn as jewelry.
I feigned interest in this man’s wares but really his face was what interested me. When I asked permission to photograph him, he agreed but asked for a fee of “100 bhat” (roughly 30 cents in US currency). The next time I went back to Bangkok, I gave him a print…and then asked him for a fee of “100 bhat.” Tit for tat. I was the winner in this exchange, for I now have this image.
Buddhist amulets seem to be popular items for sale by sidewalk vendors. These men had a limited selection, with each one in a holder, suitable for wearing as a pendant on a necklace. Buyers would take great care in selecting which amulet to buy, some of them using a jeweler’s loupe to examine the amulets minutely.
Apart from the flea market itself, the sidewalks would become a sort of social club where people from the neighborhood could sit to eat, drink and socialize. These goings-on seemed to be loosely organized along the sidewalks across the street from the flea market, or on side streets or sometimes on street corners. The people tended to be middle-aged men but sometimes young people, men and women, too. This image reveals the atmosphere – casual, at ease.
This was a casual diner and coffee house, but a far cry from Starbucks and its imitators. The space had been carved out of the ground floor of the building with the front and side walls open to the street The floor was bare concrete and the walls were whitewashed. Rickety old porcelain-top tables and plastic chairs. The kitchen and coffee makers were openly visible at the back. This was no trendy coffee bar, but a place for Thais to socialize in the evenings.
One man at the coffee house was offering various items for sale, including this reproduction of an old photograph of then-king Bhumibol Adulyadej as a young monarch. Possibly, a critic might say this image is weak, aesthetically, as it is only a photograph of a photograph. I would disagree. Two things rescue the image. First is the context, a local Thai coffee shop late one evening. Second is what was the vendor’s motive for offering the print for sale at the coffee shop? Thai people highly revered the King, which is reflected in the photograph, I think.
The Thai government sponsors a national lottery, which at times pervades this neighborhood like it does in the rest of Bangkok. It seems to be episodic with vendors more prevalent at certain times. The vendors fall into two categories. Some set up small portable tables on the sidewalk and display their lottery tickets stapled to boards and arranged neatly in rows for the customers to peruse. Other vendors carry their tickets in thin hinged wooden boxes that they carry with a strap slung across their shoulders. These are mobile vendors who wander along the sidewalks, stopping occasionally to entice customers.
Buying and selling lottery tickets is a low-key activity and thus blends in well with the flea market atmosphere. Buyers usually would take their time poring over the display of tickets before choosing which to buy. The vendors would sit patiently waiting for the buyers. The transactions would be, of course, strictly cash only. This image depicts the quiet mood of this part of street life in Chinatown’s side streets.
The lottery vendors, like most of the vendors at the flea market, generally ignored me and my camera. This guy was an exception as he caught my attention and tried to inveigle me into buying a ticket or two. He was also an exception by showing a bit of enthusiasm about his approach to selling lottery tickets, not to mention his bleached hair and deep suntan.
A view of a lonely street. This vendor had placed her table on a mostly vacant sidewalk – no other vendors, few pedestrians, a couple of guys sitting on the steps. Usually, my street photography is more close-up, but this image is from a wider view. The asphalt street with no traffic, the mostly empty sidewalk, even the tree trunks with no branches visible, all these elements combine to portray a mood of loneliness.
Would a watch repairman ply his trade on the sidewalk and at night? It seemed like an odd combination, but there he was working intently, with traffic roaring by only a few meters away. Several factors in the composition focus attention on the repairman, such as the ridges in the steel gate behind him and the streetlights in the background. The main factor is the light shining on his hand, shoulder and head. Clearly he was focused on his work and oblivious of his surroundings.
Possibly I’m projecting my ambivalence about lotteries in this photograph. For the government, the lottery is a source of income. For the people who buy the tickets, maybe it gives them a chance at a better life. Maybe it gives them a little hope. But from my point of view, the government is selling false dreams.
The sidewalks of this section of Chinatown would be occupied by an eclectic collection of goods and services beyond the traditional definition of a flea market. These streets served as a social community center as well – albeit in a dimly lit and low-key location.
This woman was selling kitchenwares, mostly pots and pans. Her merchandise was, or at least seemed to be, new. Note the prices – 30 Thai baht is about $1 US. She was just sitting, both motionless and emotionless. The contrast between the gleaming pots, which are in focus, and the soft texture of her face and the background creates tension in the image. What was she thinking?
The dim lighting and quiet atmosphere combine to create an other-worldly mood. This allows me to slip into another level that I call, “the hole in the universe.” Let me explain. Sometimes in the darkroom, or even later in the process of creating photographs, I find an image that far exceeds the realm of my expectations. Usually, these are very dark images with a sense of other-worldliness. They may evoke a feeling of danger or disintegration. This then reminds me of a nightmare in which I’d found a tiny hole in the edge of the universe that allowed small bits of matter to escape. Maybe a psychoanalyst could interpret such a dream, but for me it was an expression of extreme anxiety. Sometimes, rarely, I find that one of my photographs reminds me of this dream about the hole in the universe.
An unsettling mood emerges in this image – a foreboding of something about to happen. The setting was a side alley leading off one of the main streets. I hesitated to enter but my little voice nudged me forward. The composition is quite cluttered but this enhances the mood, suggesting danger. Perhaps I should say the image expressed the potential for danger rather than actual danger, the temptation of titillation.
This man seemed lost, standing motionless, staring vacantly. What thoughts were going through his mind? His stare haunts me. I can only look at this photograph for a short time. Look at his hands, his shoulders – so thin and bony. What was he doing alone on the sidewalk at night?
Two men laying out on the steps on a warm winter evening. Late at night the sidewalks beyond the flea market would be given over to a wide range of activities. A certain level of intimacy animates this image. The who and where are unimportant, but the image hints at the why and how. In my imagination, these guys had found that stretching out on the step was more comfortable than staying home in a stuffy un-airconditioned apartment when the weather was hot and humid.
The opposite side of the street was much quieter and darker, a very different side of Chinatown. There some street people would be sitting on the sidewalk, drinking beer and chatting. Others, apparently homeless, slept in the doorways. This image is a departure from my usual style of photography. The soft-focus blur contributes to the mood of the scene. I am both attracted to and wary of photographing homeless people. The man’s body language in this image tells the story. And what about the white cup? Is it a distraction or is it an essential element of the composition? Overall, this photograph makes a strong statement – but not a judgement about the man. He is who he is.
Now in contrast, Chinatown’s main street would be ablaze with neon and blinking lights at night. The restaurants would be overflowing with patrons and the tables would spill out onto the sidewalks and sometimes onto the streets. Stores would be open for business and sidewalk vendors abound. The crush of people would be daunting.
Just around the corner and a mere block away, the sidewalks would be dark and quiet. Here was the nighttime flea market, which stretched for several blocks in both directions. For me, this neighborhood stoked my photographer’s imagination. There I hardly needed any goading from my camera and my little voice. I could go on autopilot for an hour or more. I could become invisible and anonymous. I was in my milieu.
This has been the third episode based on my photography in Bangkok: Silom Road, Charoen Krung Road, and Chinatown’s flea market. As for my ventures in Thailand outside of Bangkok, well, that will be the material of other episodes of The Monochrome Chronicles.
