My earliest memory of flowers was at my mum’s bar. There was a counter that served as the reception, cashier, and bar. On this counter, there was always a huge vase filled with seasonal flowers. A sculpture of life, or something like that. Even then, I was mesmerized by it without needing a reason or explanation.

Many years later, after my mum’s bar closed, she moved into the catering business, which I followed along with. At these events, they all seemed to have one thing in common: flowers. Birthdays, weddings, and even funerals—they were all decorated with flowers. I think it’s because they make beautiful memories more colourful and painful memories more bearable.

At Silpakorn University, where I studied painting, I struggled to find my own artistic style and motif. At the time, I didn’t want to paint flowers because my grandfather, one of Thailand’s leading contemporary artists, was renowned for his floral paintings. Afraid of living under his shadow, I painted semi-abstract murals for my thesis instead.

When I was working on my thesis, my focus was never there. Whenever a friend asked if I wanted to grab a coffee or a cigarette, I’d say yes. I’d take any excuse to step away from my painting. Around the same time, I occasionally painted flowers and sold them for pocket money. It wasn’t obvious at first, but I felt at home when I was painting flowers. I could sit with them for days. Eventually, I realized that painting flowers was more fulfilling than trying to complete my thesis. It felt right. Even though my professors didn’t find flowers particularly interesting or original, they were what I was drawn to.

Since I began sharing my paintings on social media in 2015, I’ve sold nearly all of my work directly to collectors. One of my commissions, valued at €5,000, is now exhibited at the Rojanatorn Foundation. I don’t usually like talking about prices when it comes to art, but I’m proud that someone placed that much faith in my work.

Over the years, I’ve painted flowers in countless compositions and styles. I painted roses resting in the shade with a rose garden stretching into the background. I painted chrysanthemums exploding across the sky like fireworks. I painted flowers I found on the street, and flowers that existed only in my imagination. Yet, I found myself returning to one particular composition again and again: a big, lush bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase, just like the one that stood on my mum’s counter.