4 single-channel videos, 5 photographs, 1 LED speaker, 2 powered speakers, ceramic tiles.

2:09 minutes, looped, Digital, 16:9, Silent, colour

Goodnight Jenjira - Bathroom
2:35 minutes, looped, Digital, 16:9, Silent, colour

Goodnight Jenjira - Living Room
2:04 minutes, looped, Digital, 16:9, Silent, colour

For Tonight
5:05 minutes, looped, Digital, 16:9, Dolby 5.1, colour

Power Boy
1,500mm x 2,250mm

Power Boy (Mekong)
1,500mm x 2,250mm

1,500mm x 1,875mm

Jenjiraplasmaelectric (exhausted)
1,500mm x 1,875mm

Mekong Mud Man
1,500mm x 1,840mm

LED Speaker:
Featuring Sound Design by Akaritchalerm Kalayanamitr, "Morse Beat Godzilla Roar"
4:45 minutes, mp 3 audio on USB drive, looped, 40 cm L x 40 cm W x 60 cm H

For Tomorrow
Featuring Sakda Kaewbuadee & Laurent Vaysse Covering “Baby Can I Hold You” by Tracy Chapman
3:00 minutes, mp 3 audio on USB drive, looped.

First installed at Irish Museum of Modern Art, 27 July - 30 October 2011
Stacks Image 645

We progressed slowly. Jenjira was staggering. We were walking along the riverbank at night. Each light pole was far apart, creating an endless stretch of darkness punctuated with tiny puddles of light. Jenjira’s ankle was bolted inside with a metal plate; the muscles around it needed exercise. From time to time, I shone a flashlight at the ground to make sure there were no big rocks on the path. To our left the water was stirring, but we saw nothing.

We sat on the concrete bank under one of the light poles. Jenjira massaged her legs. “Auntie Jen,” I said, “Look at this.”
I opened my palm to show her my purple fingertips. She was startled. “What happened, son?”
“It’s happened to me, lately,” I replied. “It’s called Raynaud’s Phenomenon; when the blood doesn’t circulate well to reach the fingers. It’s a mystery disease that will slowly turn your arms purple.”
Jenjira laughed. “Stop fooling with me

Jenjira was smiling as she rubbed her legs. She and I were quarantined by this invisible river and were obliged to share our stories every night, forever. “Auntie Jen,” I said, “I had a funny dream with you in it.”

Jenjira turned and massaged my fingers as I spoke, “I had to write my name on a piece of paper. I don’t know what for but I could not write it straight. The sheet in front of me was full of scribbles that were supposed to be my name, with cross marks sprinkled over it. Sometimes I chose the wrong first letter, sometimes the third, and sometimes the whole last name. I thought it was because of the pen. So I tried a pencil. I made a mistake again. I turned away from this complicated mission and started to draw a picture of a man lying in bed. He woke up, still haunted by strange dreams. And you, auntie, were beside me. With a pen, you drew another man sitting next to the man in bed. They were surprised to see each other. Soon they talked. Both of them were pleased with the morning light that was beaming down through the window. I interrupted my drawing and resumed the name-writing battle. You disappeared. With more scribbles, the paper turned cloudy grey, like a storm was coming.”

We sat on the concrete bank for a while, listening to the river’s murmur. Then we decided to head home and walked back on the same path. Midway, Jenjira had cramp in her leg. I beamed the flashlight on her leg as she massaged it. Her hand was busy squeezing the flesh, making it roll in waves. You could see the bloodlines branching on her calf like a tree’s fibrous roots, like thunderbolts. After a few minutes we resumed our journey. In the dark, I saw an afterimage of a floating white leg.
“I see it too,” Jenjira said. Thus, on the way home, our eyes were ablaze with limbs.