January 2567
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- 9 hours ago
- 7 min read
Earlier this summer, our editor Koshik Zaman reached out to Thai-born, Norway-based artist Apichaya (Piya) Wanthiang, whose awe-evoking exhibition January 2567 is entering its final week at Artipelag. Initially trained as a painter in Belgium, Apichaya discusses her shift towards an interdisciplinary practice and her process of refining ways to create spaces that invite viewers to engage, and spend time within them.
K.Z: Alright, let’s get started. When I read up on your website, I can tell that you have exhibited very extensively. You had another solo show, at Vigeland Museum (13.02 – 16.05.2026) in Oslo, running concurrently with the show at Artipelag (14.03 – 30.08.2026) for a while. What was that like?
A.W: Hectic. I’m almost confused about what I did first because they happened at the same time. I think I installed at Artipelag before installing at Vigeland. Those were some very intense weeks going back and forth. Working with a technician team (ed.’s note: Hangmen) is a first for me. The exhibition at Artipelag opened in March, so I was there in February to install. As soon as I finished installing in Stockholm, I went straight back to Oslo to install the show there. The shows present two very different bodies of work.
K.Z: If we take a moment to rewind a little. You have a very interesting background. You grew up in Northern Thailand?
A.W: Yeah, in Northeast Thailand until I was almost nine, and then moved to Belgium and went to elementary and high school there. Eventually, I also did my BFA there. The support structure for the arts was very limited at the time, so I decided I would try my luck somewhere else for my MFA. I met somebody at a residency who told me about the education system in Scandinavia, so I applied to art schools all across
the region. And that’s how I ended up in Norway.
K.Z: I’ve studied in Antwerp myself, so I have spent a lot of time in Brussels. The commercial scene has been vibrant there for a while. Belgium is an interesting place, small but culturally divided and so centrally located in Europe.
A.W: I do love Brussels; I would love to live there. And as you said, the art scene is very strong. At the time, it was just the realization that there was very little space for young artists. What does one do if there are no spaces to exhibit and no funding to get?
K.Z: The general impression over here is that there’s a lot of financial support to get in Norway. We do here too, although it is diminishing. What does it look like from your point of view?
A.W: Oh yeah. That wasn’t really the reason why I moved out here. Of all the schools I applied to, I did like Bergen for some reason. I had a feeling it would be a good place to build a community. The fact that there is a support structure is something I only found after graduating. I started getting some grants and opportunities, so staying just seemed like the logical thing to do.
K.Z: So now it’s been over ten years since you graduated?
A.W: Hmm, close to sixteen years, even.
K.Z: You have a practice that encompasses a lot. There’s painting, video, architectural structures and so on. And in the show at Artipelag, there are these beautiful textile elements. What is also evident to me is that you are a very gifted painter.
A.W: Thank you.
K.Z: I love how you start in the dark. I know light is a crucial element to your practice, but to enter through darkness, it’s a little cryptic at first. The projections are stunning, but you have to sit with them for a little before the images slowly start unfolding. And then you go through the second and third rooms where you find these incredible installations that are interventions in the space. And eventually you enter this airy and bright space where you have several painting installations that easily could be a show in their own right. I’m curious to know how your practice has evolved over time. Was it always interdisciplinary?
A.W: No, I was trained as a painter. I only painted throughout my Bachelor’s. I started with traditional oil painting and later I was making my own paint. So, a pretty slow practice. But I guess the component of space has always been there, even when I was only painting. The art school I attended is very rooted in a conceptual approach. There was a general resistance towards painting. At one point, a lot of teachers who favored a multimedia approach were hired. I only wanted to paint but almost felt discouraged. But, I’m very stubborn, so if I’m told not to do something, I am going to hold on to it.
When I later moved to Bergen, the approach at school was very different. There was no push towards any direction and all of a sudden, I felt inclined to explore some of the other ideas I had thought of. But it was always important for me to follow my gut instinct, to filter out what other people envision for my practice. I started exploring installation art.
I won a competition for master’s students where I got to do a solo show and work with a team of technicians. That was the first time I made an installation which also involved a video work with me dancing, and it had a sound component. It seemed to really move people. I felt like the response to that work was great, as opposed to some past painting shows where people would walk through it very quickly. It was the first time I noticed that people really sat through the entire approx 40 mins. loop. Something clicked in me, the realization that there are things I can do to actually invite people to spend time with my work, and how do I spend more time developing that aspect of my practice. It almost became a research topic of its own for me: how do I get people to spend time with my work? How do I invite them to be in a certain headspace?
K.Z: I feel like what you just said has really been achieved at Artipelag, which is not easy. When I saw the show, I first saw it in the company of the curator, Olga Krzeszowiec Malmsten, which was very rewarding and informative, but I felt like I had to go back on my own because the show is informed by so much. Especially in the first room, you really need, or rather want, to spend time in there. Also, in the final room with the paintings. Not to undercut the middle section, those rooms are stunning too, but the paintings in the last section have such a magnetic quality to them, they really command to be seen, and are in great dialogue with the natural surroundings.
A.W: Yes, that’s probably true, but in my case, it’s become such an integral part of my investigation, as in a more explicit way of how I make the work. For example, since the very first installation, the one I mentioned to you, I’ve been trying to refine the “compression and release” component, drawing from Frank Lloyd Wright’s architectural strategy where you first go through a very narrow space that eventually opens up to a larger space, and this is essentially what happens at Artipelag. I take the viewer through a every compressed space, where there’s intimacy, rhythm and texture. The architecture of the space is not very clear, this helps to trigger the viewers' imagination. By lowering sight, I'm heightening the other senses. Where I'm exhibiting at the so called "cabinets" at Artipelag, there's an enforced linear movement which was important for me from the start. You go through these different rooms but have to go back the same way. The movement of a line becomes a circle.
K.Z: Speaking to you, it’s evident that you almost have a total command of the dramaturgy of the show and how you would like the viewer to experience it. What was the dialogue with the curators like?
A.W: When I was first approached about the show, it was Iselin Page (ed's note: currently on maternity leave) who got in touch. We studied together in Bergen, and I had no idea that she had become a curator. Later, Olga took over around the time I went into production. I’ve been afforded a great deal of trust and freedom to develop the show, but also great support, financially and curatorially, every step along the way. Working with Artipelag has been the best institutional support I’ve been given to date. Both Olga and Iselin did an amazing job, they really understood my vision.
K.Z: With the show now entering its final week, what might be on the horizon for you?
A.W: Alongside the two massive projects I recently completed, I also finalised a very large-scale commission in a public yet secluded institution in Oslo. These three projects, which almost happened simultaneously, took their toll on the body. It tends to happen this way: public-facing moments come together and become clustered. With age, however, I have become more critical of this rhythm and much more aware of its long-term repercussions. I don’t want to contribute to normalising it.
Right now, I am conducting research on Longyearbyen as a resident at Artica. After this, I need to slow down for a period, to think, reflect, and adjust. Before this intense period of production, during a one-year residency in New York, I took a year to study. This allowed me to begin a document that became a blueprint for developing work from. I want to return to this document and explore how I can use it further.
During that time, I also started a new series of paintings, playing with displacement, repetition, and layering. The work was still in its early stages, but it showed promise, and I want to continue developing what I started there.
I have several exhibitions planned in Oslo and Bergen, and I am also in conversation about showing work outside of Norway, which will be announced in due time. But right now, my focus is not on public-facing moments. Instead, I want to return to different processes, spend time with them, and allow them to develop further.
Apichaya Wanthiang’s January 2657 runs until August, 30, 2026, at Artipelag.