I first danced as a hobby, learning tap, rap and jazz dance purely for fun. I was drawn to how dance challenges me.

 

I quit engineering to pursue dance. I knew a master’s degree in engineering from Chula would do nothing for me. Once I knew what I wanted, there was no need to continue my studies, so I quit. To be a dancer is more challenging, and I didn’t want to waste more time.

 

I’m a late starter. I have to work twice as hard. I decided to go into full-time training—all day and all night—in New York City, where there’s higher competition and more to learn. My thought process changed a lot there.

 

It’s definitely not for quitters. You need to be highly disciplined, take care of yourself and, most importantly, correct yourself. 

 

 

I didn’t know if I would be a successful choreographer. I still wanted to dance. With little experience, I wasn’t so confident I had what it takes to be a choreographer. I continued to work with others and kept challenging myself, until I found what I like.

 

I’m lucky I found myself early. It is important to have your own signature, to distinguish your company’s work from others. It helps you with direction. Otherwise you can get lost and mess up. 

 

18 Monkeys Dance Company was founded to support Thai artists to have regular training and keep them challenged. I need to work on other commercial projects to support it. It’s my own collection of art; I don’t want the slightest commercial influence on it. 

 

It’s hard to say your work is original these days. What is original, anyway? Performance art now relies so much on media and technology. It’s all mixed up. It’s very likely that various elements have already existed in others’ work. It’s like how we’re all born with arms and legs. But knowing your style can only help.

 

Visuals speak to me. I always find myself struck by pictures, films, scenes from daily life or during rehearsals. My dance pieces are a medium reflecting the pictures I have seen. It’s something I want to share. It never comes from a planned structure.

 

 

I prefer my movement to be organic, yet aggressive and energetic. I want it to feel as natural as possible. I’m not primarily concerned about the technical aspects. I like to blend different principles together. Half of my work is about very personal matters; the other is my interpretation of stories I’m interested in. 

 

Very few foreigners come to Thailand for its culture. They are here for the beach, food, nightlife and shopping. 

 

I appreciate people coming to my shows. They are not the biggest crowds, but I will always take quality over quantity. It’s better than having a massive audience who just chitchat or play on their cell phones. Those people are asked to leave.

 

 

We’re living in two different worlds, Thai classical and contemporary artists. They don’t know what’s going on here. One of my company’s dancers is actually the principal dancer at The Fine Arts Department, where they don’t even acknowledge his role in 18 Monkeys. It’s a shame because the national theater should support both classical and contemporary works. It’s a national theater. 

 

It’s dangerous how traditional works are appreciated only by those inside a small circle. It’s not expanding. Thai traditional dance is indeed beautiful, but it’s made very difficult for those on the outside to appreciate it.

 

There’s support here but not for this kind of work. They see mainstream work as having more impact; it’s not worthwhile investing in work with a small audience. It comes down to a lack of coverage, not that people are not ready for it.

 

Art can’t be judged by awards. What is real is the audience’s feedback, when your work has an impact on them. There are some shows so provocative that people walk out; that doesn’t make it a bad work. 

 

 

I have a dark side. I have a lot of intense personal experiences. When I put it in my choreography, it can be beautiful or despicable, but it’s nonetheless a true part of my integrity.

 

Life is about taking risks. I like it this way. Nothing is fixed. I’m always ready to change. The dancers I work with know this very well. The audiences also know that the first and last rounds of the show are always very different.

 

I’m stubborn and thick-skinned. No matter how many times I fail, I will keep doing it to prove those who underestimate me wrong. But you also need to be able to accept your limits. It’s stupid to keep attempting what you can never achieve.