There is a story I once heard; the forest holds the memories of those who once walked through it.

          "Back then, everyone had to move quietly. When the light of a flashlight appeared, we had to stay still, until we could hear our own breathing. I remember it was around June, and it rained almost every day. It took us several days to cross this hill to Thailand, even though the forest itself wasn't very large."

           "When we went to gather mushrooms, we had to start while it was still dark to see them. Sometimes we would walk into barbed wire fences set up around the area. We cannot walk too far, otherwise we will enter the Cambodia border.

           The mushrooms would grow in the same spots every year. If we remembered where we had collected them before, we would return to that same area. The tight buds were for selling, and the blossomed ones were for eating. We kept our eyes on the ground, searching in the dark more than looking at the sky. Only when the cicadas began to sing loudly, and when I could see my own hands, did I realize the sky had lightened."

            For me, this series of work continues the search for my family's memories, both those who have passed and those who remain. Gathering mushrooms is not just about collecting them. It is a way of returning to that place again, of feeling closer to the stories I once heard. It is as if the gaps are being filled through the careful listening to footsteps on leaves, the attentive gestures of searching, and the quiet focus of bending low over the earth.

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By 

Marisa Srijunpleang

 

     

 

          Marisa captures the journeys of the Thai-Cambodian community in the forest border. From her experience, the forest is a space of ritual, spirituality, and history, it is the inseparable part of her family's life. The mixed deciduous forest along the Surin border is at once mysterious and strangely familiar. It is the very forest through which her family once migrated during the war, and today, it continues to provide sustenance, both physical and spiritual for the community. The moving images retrace the footsteps of the villager.

          Morning sunlight filtering through the trees and grass emphasizes moments of presence and transition. The search for local mushrooms is not merely a way of life or a body of local knowledge, but also an essential part of her family's identity and sense of self.

 

 

By

Fahmui Pimpakaporn Pornpeng

curetor