
It was January 2007. I was on my way back to Australia from Europe, scheduled to fly via Perth, but something tugged at me — a memory of a painting I had seen in Australia, signed only “Kitti.” That one work had stayed with me. It radiated a kind of warmth, intimacy, and joy that was hard to shake. I decided, perhaps foolishly, to divert through Bangkok and see if I could track down the artist. A city of ten million people, and all I had was a signature.
What unfolded was nothing short of miraculous.
I scoured galleries and artist hangouts, asked questions, followed instinct, and against all odds — I found him. Kitti Narod. Soft-spoken, kind-eyed, and surrounded by paintings that danced with colour and life. I bought a dozen on the spot and brought them back to Tusk Gallery in Melbourne. That moment marked the beginning of what would become a nearly two-decade relationship between Kitti and Tusk — and between Kitti and me.
Over the years, Kitti’s art has graced countless exhibitions at Tusk Gallery, and many pieces have found their way into my personal collection. But more importantly, a friendship grew — one of mutual respect, shared meals, creative joy, and even shared sorrow.
In 2011, I brought Kitti to Melbourne with another Thai art icon, Attasit Pokpong. They stayed at our home in the Dandenong Ranges. We showed them Healesville, wandered the misty lanes of inner Melbourne, and shared meals (including kangaroo — a stretch for a vegetarian like me). It was more than an art tour; it was a cultural exchange steeped in laughter, curiosity, and connection.
Then, in 2012, tragedy struck. My son Paul passed away in Bangkok. In the aftermath, Kitti stepped in with the most heartfelt gesture — he created a deeply moving video tribute and a special painting of Paul that touched me in ways words cannot describe. That act of compassion cemented a bond that goes far beyond artist and gallerist.
One thing that always stood out about Kitti — beyond the art — was his quiet compassion. When I visited his home and studio in 2010, the first thing that struck me wasn’t just the art or the creative energy of the space, but the cats. Dozens of them. I counted at least twenty — lounging on windowsills, curling under tables, wandering around as if they owned the place. I never asked Kitti why he had so many cats, but their presence felt fitting. There was something about the way he moved among them, so gentle and unhurried, that made it obvious: he loved them. Deeply. And they trusted him back.
That love and loyalty was never more evident than during the catastrophic Bangkok floods of 2011. The lower level of Kitti’s home was completely underwater, but he refused to evacuate. Most people would have left — he stayed. Not because of the art, or the house itself, but for the cats. He wouldn’t abandon them. He weathered the flood with them, sleeping upstairs, ferrying food, making sure they were safe. That says more about the man than any biography ever could.
There’s another moment that has stayed with me all these years. One night, I was invited to dinner at Attasit’s home. It was a special evening — a small group, intimate. Kitti cooked. He made a vegetarian Tom Kha soup just for me, knowing I didn’t eat meat. It might seem like a small gesture, but for me it felt significant. I was far from home, immersed in this creative world in Bangkok, and here was Kitti — thoughtful, present, kind — ladling soup into my bowl. That quiet kindness has always been at the heart of who he is, both as an artist and as a human being
Kitti was also one of the founding forces behind V64 Art Studio, which emerged around 2010 in a converted warehouse off Vibhavadi Rangsit Soi 64. At its peak, V64 was home to over 100 artists — painters, sculptors, photographers, performers — working side by side in a dynamic ecosystem of creativity. It was open, democratic, collaborative, and pulsing with energy.
Unlike many art institutions, V64 was powered by the artists themselves. It wasn’t about commercial success or gallery politics. It was about freedom — of thought, of expression, and of community. Kitti was one of its most dedicated and selfless champions, quietly keeping the engine running, never asking for recognition, never expecting reward.
V64 became a proving ground for many Thai artists who now enjoy international recognition — Dusit Pimchangthong, Vichit Nongnual, Anupong Chantorn, among others. Many of these names are also familiar to followers of Tusk Gallery. V64 may no longer exist in physical form, but its spirit still pulses in the careers it helped launch.
For many years, despite his obvious talent and unique style, Kitti remained somewhat under the radar. He kept painting, sculpting, and evolving even through tough financial times. But in 2018, the tide turned. He was picked up by the prestigious Tang Gallery, which began to show his work both in Bangkok and internationally. Finally, the world began to notice what I had seen all those years ago in that one mysterious painting signed “Kitti.”
The joy I felt when I saw his paintings hanging in River City in 2023 was hard to describe. He took us out for a sumptuous dinner that night, gracious as always, and it was clear that he had stepped into a new era of recognition and success — one that he had so richly earned.
Kitti’s artwork didn’t just hang on my gallery walls or sit quietly in storage. It played a pivotal role in my life — even financially. When I was diagnosed with cancer in 2020 and chose an alternative path for treatment, it was the sale of several of Kitti’s works that helped fund that journey. His art, quite literally, helped save my life.
That’s the thing about true creative partnerships — they’re not transactional. They’re relational. Energetic. Alive.
This is just the beginning of a series I’ll be doing on Kitti Narod and the broader Thai contemporary art scene that evolved from places like JJ Market, V64, and beyond. I’ve watched many of these artists grow from ambitious young painters to international stars, and Kitti has always been at the heart of that story — not just as an artist, but as a quiet mentor, a community builder, and a friend.
Stay tuned as I share more photos, memories, and insights from our journey together. Kitti once seemed like a serendipitous find. In hindsight, it was fate. A true sliding door moment. And I’ll be forever grateful that I walked through.