YEARNING FOR LOST DREAMS
Cattleya Jaruthavee’s photo exhibition is a contemplative examination of the complex emotions experienced by Lao karaoke bar hostesses along the border
With shots of a shocking eyesore of a pink sofa, a rundown back room in what appears to be a cheap bar, and a group of scantily-clad young women under gaudy neon lights, British-Thai photographer Cattleya Jaruthavee infuses Kathmandu Photo Gallery with a sense of lost youth and impossible yearnings in her solo exhibition “Paused Dreams”.
“Their gazes yearn for something more — their aspirations are no different from any other woman in her 20s,” said Cattleya. “Yet their very game plan keeps them ensnared in a vicious cycle that takes them ever further from their dreams.”
With a background in sociology and photojournalism as a master’s degree, the Bangkok-based photographer documented the lives of Lao hostesses in many Thai-Lao border karaoke bars. Cattleya said she doesn’t feel solely Thai-Chinese or British but seems to embody different aspects of both cultures simultaneously. After graduate school she felt the obvious thing to do was to come back for the first part of her career and focus on Southeast Asia.
“The region holds a lot of issues close to my heart and it only felt right to begin here,” said Cattleya. “It all started with a story I did on ‘Pretties’ [her previous photographic works], and what the meaning of being a ‘pretty’ has become in Thailand. From then onwards, my work has been similarly geared towards this, with a hint of fine art pieces, as well.”
Life talked to Cattleya about the way she works and the fine line between sincere storytelling and exploitation of the subject.
How did this project come about?
‘Paused Dreams’ came out of a larger project I did on the reproductive health of migrant women with an NGO that deals with the human rights of migrants. I chose to pull out this segment because I felt it was relevant to all societies regardless of whether you are a migrant or not. The ambiguity of karaoke lounges poses a great debate over their legitimacy as entertainment venues. I think we all know that something else can happen besides singing classic songs under neon lights. Raids already happen regularly when lounge hostesses are Thai but when they are migrants, there is more frequency and it is a massive cause of anxiety for migrants in all occupational fields. If Thailand plans to continue hiring migrants in various industries, there needs to be better regulation.
Whether they are documented or undocumented, it seems as though they receive similar treatment, unfortunately. The only difference is the documented ones don’t get sent back to their country of origin but they still have to deal with bullying from some local authorities.
It must have been challenging getting to know your subjects so well so as to ensure such natural shots. Can you share with us the process?
Naturally, when you gravitate towards documentary photography and topics involving interaction with people, you are already halfway there. One thing that I’ve learnt is that much of the time, your subjects are as interested in you as you are in them. When this energy exchange is present, both parties are at ease and the flow just comes. At the same time, I have to constantly look for the right moment to press the shutter. There are times when there could have been a good shot but it would have been too disturbing and way too much of an infringement of privacy to pick up the camera. It is often best in those scenarios to enjoy the moment and observe. You have to understand and respect your subject’s space and be sensitive to their emotions. Once you gain access into someone else’s world, it does not become a free-for-all.
You studied sociology and then photojournalism, and these two fields seem to work together perfectly in this work.
It was actually never an intentional mixing of disciplines but more of the way I am as a person. I gravitated towards sociology for my Bachelor’s degree because I enjoy observing human interaction and wanted to understand it on a more disciplined level. I have been attracted to photography since my early teens but was not encouraged to pursue it initially because of the part of me that is conservative and Asian. With an inner need I was born with to never sweep issues under the carpet, it only made sense to explore topics requiring pressing attention.
There might be some people who think of your work more as exploitation rather than an empathetic documentary on a social issue. What do you say to that?
I think exploitation has to come from a very selfish place, where you attempt to sensationalise your subjects in a way they are not, whether this is in a better or worse light. It’s always important for me to document my subjects exactly as they are. For example in ‘Paused Dreams’, I did not try to capture them in a pitiful light because that simply would not be the truth of their daily emotions.
It would be a lie to make them look miserable because like any other occupation, there are good and bad days. They are not being forced into this line of work, but are there by choice. This is a really important point because cameras can be very powerful tools; you can capture scenarios exactly how you would like people to see them.
What is your fascination with these girls’ “act of continuous waiting”?
I’ve worked with lounge hostesses and sex workers before in previous projects and during volunteer work but never have I come across them in such a confined, provincial setting. That’s when it struck me that there is so much waiting around. In the rainy season it’s even quieter. What I found universally relevant was that each person had a smartphone, and just like a lot of people in other occupations, they use them for the same purpose — to pass time.
“Paused Dreams” is on display at Kathmandu Photo Gallery, Pan Road, until June 28.
The ambiguity of karaoke lounges poses a great debate over their legitimacy as entertainment venues