In another diptych, Memoria Jessica (2022), Weerasethakul reveals more unseen footage of Swinton’s character sleeping, and includes a photograph of overlapping circles. The circles represent a circular consciousness: a recurring theme throughout the artist’s work, defined by him as a state of being achieved when one is in tandem with nature’s cycle. It is a state that is achieved when someone operates from an unconditioned, subconcious place which allows for forging connections organically, without an agenda. “When we sleep, our bodies and minds become uninhibited,” says Weerasethakul, “which enables us to dream, and facilitates correlation.”

The artist links his fascination with dreams and sleep with his penchant for cinema. “A dream is an uncontrolled narrative,” he says. “It’s like a black box, like a movie theatre, where anything can happen.” When the artist was young, he enjoyed watching movies in the dark, as he associated being in a place without light as a time for experimentation. This translates into his filmmaking because it creates an atmosphere which allows you to approach things from an unknown – literally dark – point of view. “When you make movies, there aren’t any rules. There are parameters, yes,” he says, citing length and budgets as examples, “but there are still lots of things you can try out.” Having the freedom to experiment makes him feel like a child again, which adds to his creativity. “There’s an innocent curiosity you have [as a child], a sense of wonder. You don’t censor yourself; you’re not worried if you’re asking dumb questions; you’re less conditioned.” 

Weerasethakul likes to address his existential queries from a place of openness and possibility, as did his friend and mentor, experimental filmmaker Bruce Bailie, who died in 2020. “The way he saw the world through his camera lens was like a child; he was really open. His films are simply an invitation to look, open to interpretation, without any conditions,” says Weerasethakul, attributing Bailie’s style to his growing up during the 1960s and 1970s at the height of hippie culture. “It’s such a big difference from filmmaking and art nowadays [when] you have all this [preconceived] knowledge about what art is or should be—it’s so institutionalised.”

A lack of narrative reflects the aforementioned ambiguity and is evident in For Bruce (2022), a video installation included in the Hong Kong exhibition, which pays homage to Bailie in Weerasethakul’s distinct style, shot in the Amazon jungle in Peru the artist was trekking through while recovering from Covid-19. Flickering lights, water flowing underneath a bridge and the artist’s intermittent cough comprise the overlapped footage. 

Bailie’s impact is also evident in the installation Seeing Circles (2022), which examines how our perception of time is conditioned through memories. It also reflects the influence philosopher Jiddu Krishnamurthi’s teachings have on Weerasethakul, which the artist has been studying for the past five years. The videos that make up the piece were created with a pocket camera which provides a distinct, and perhaps realtively new perspective for viewers, one without any prior condition. Representing a pair of eyes, two circular projections showcase the word “seeing” among other footage including scenes Weerasethakul shot during Thailand’s 2020 mass protests.

While Weerasethakul doesn’t consider himself or his art to be political (he says it is all personal documentary), many of his works showcase socio-political conflicts and issues in Thailand; for example, the changes in the northeast of the country, where he grew up. He shot one of his best-known films in the region’s jungles: Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, which won the Palme d’Or at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival.

Politics and protests are obscurely evoked in another recent work view on the gallery’s topmost level, The Word Silence Is Not Silence, which was made for the 2022 Okayama Art Summit. The artist contemplates the multiple interpretations of the word “silence”, while also referencing fellow artist Rirkrit Tiravanija’s work, which often draws on the use of text. “There are many layers to silence, you can contemplate silence within yourself, or consider if you’re being silenced by someone else.” 

One of Weerasethakul’s most powerful ways of fighting against being silenced is sleep. “It’s a form of resistance,” he says. “It’s physically resisting against a consciousness that is so conditioned.” He believes it’s also a defence against the capitalist mentality, which lauds overworking and overconsumption. “When we’re not happy with who we are, we think if buy something, achieve something, we’ll be better within a certain time frame—we want to acquire things in order to change.” Sleep, however, is the antidote to such discontent, because in order to awaken you need to sleep. “It’s a place of resisting, by not resisting.”

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