From unearthed fish sauce jars and scattered ceramic shards at the grounds of One Bangkok emerged the beginnings of a ceramic creation.

Wasinburee Supanichvoraparch, National Artist and Silpathorn Award laureate in Design (2010), and the artist behind PintONE, drew stories from unearthed fragments, each distinct in form and provenance, as a metaphor for the many layers of transformation the area has undergone—changes that, over time, may have caused certain stories to fade from view. PintONE becomes an act of remembering, of uncovering memories long buried, allowing them to surface once more. The word “Tone” in the work’s title comes from the German Ton, meaning clay (with Tone as its plural form).

The artist chose the form of the pinto, a traditional Thai tiered food container, as a symbol of reunion across time, linking the past, present, and future. Each tier is glazed in hues that echo the ceramic shards uncovered during the construction of One Bangkok. From fragments of faded patterns, Wasinburee reimagined new designs, weaving present-day narratives into them. These layers, both imagined and real, record the continuity between what has passed and what now exists, coexisting in harmony in this place—like a new beginning for memory itself, composed to be passed forward.

Step into this stratified landscape of time through Wasinburee’s reflections, through fish sauce jars, pinto containers, ceramic fragments, the earth itself, and the inspirations behind PintONE. Through this work, past and present meet once more.

01 Tao Hong Tai: Thailand’s First Fish Sauce Jar Manufacturer

Several decades ago, signature products now synonymous with Ratchaburi such as the dragon jar and ceramic fish sauce jars were still being imported. Wasinburee Supanichvoraparch looks back on the early days of his family’s enterprise during his grandfather’s time, when the domestic demand for earthenware far outpaced the supply. This shortfall likely stemmed from a combination of economic hardship, limited transport infrastructure, or even the effects of wartime disruption happening on the mainland China at the time.

“My grandfather was a Chinese immigrant who had made his home in Thailand. He saw an opportunity to create locally produced alternatives to the imported wares that were in such short supply.”

It was, perhaps, a mix of chance and destiny. During a leisure trip to Ratchaburi, his grandfather and friends came across local clay deposits in the furrows and canals of nearby orchards. The clay appeared particularly sticky and pliable—ideal for shaping. Seizing the moment, they brought some back to experiment with molding and firing. The results revealed promising potential. That serendipitous moment would lead them to resettle in Ratchaburi and lay the foundation for what would become the country’s first ceramic factory dedicated to producing both fish sauce jars and the now-iconic dragon water jars.

In its early years, Tao Hong Tai specialized in crafting utilitarian ceramics, primarily fish sauce jars and large water jars, using locally sourced Ratchaburi clay. When the business passed to the second generation, however, both the product range and materials evolved to meet the shifting demands of the marketplace.

“When my father took over the business, the demand for dragon jars had already begun to decline. There was a time when people used to say that you could tell how wealthy a household was by the number of jars it owned—enough to store water for the entire year. But over time, that necessity began to fade. The arrival of the Royal Irrigation Department, piped water systems, and large cement tanks gradually replaced the traditional function of the jars. Around the same period, our major clients, fish sauce factories, began switching to plastic containers. They were easier to transport, didn’t leak or crack upon impact, and offered a more practical solution to the limitations of traditional ceramic ware. It became clear that we had to explore alternative products, because fish sauce jars and dragon jars had become part of a sunset industry—one that was slowly disappearing.”

As the third-generation heir to Tao Hong Tai, Wasinburee explains how his father adapted to these shifting tides. He introduced a more diverse color palette to the product line and began sourcing clay from other regions, such as Chiang Mai and Lampang. The factory expanded its production to include a broader range of ceramic ware, incorporating both stoneware—typically made from refined clay and used for kitchenware—and porcelain, formed from kaolin clay, which allowed for more delicate and refined pieces. At a time when most factories specialized in only one type, this diversification marked a significant shift. Moving beyond strictly utilitarian objects like when the business was under his grandfather's reign, the new designs responded to both function and aesthetics.

For Wasinburee, the story is personal. Born and raised in the midst of the ceramic factory, he grew up immersed in the rhythms of clay and kiln. It was only later, after studying in Germany, that he began to truly appreciate and fall in love with the discipline of ceramics. That journey eventually led him back home, to Ratchaburi—back to the heart of Tao Hong Tai—to pursue a creative practice that was distinctly his own.

“Tao Hong Tai is like a memory. It was my playground, my source of joy, and the place where I felt safest. As a child, I must admit, I didn’t care much for ceramics. My mother once asked if I wanted to pursue something else. Something that wouldn’t be as exhausting as what my father and grandfather had done. But it felt like I was bound to this place, bound by memory. I told her, ‘Then who will carry it on?’ Maybe I said it to sound cool at the time. Or maybe I was just afraid that my happy place would one day disappear.”

“I don’t know if I hadn’t yet found myself back then, or if this path had already been set for me. But during my time in Germany, I came to realize that my earlier indifference toward art and ceramics wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. It was just that I hadn’t yet found something I loved, something I could enjoy. From that point on, I knew I wanted to come back and continue the family legacy. And I knew how I wanted to do it.”

From those first fish sauce jars, Tao Hong Tai’s output has continued to grow in both quality and form. Wasinburee has infused the family’s ceramic practice with a range of artistic approaches, incorporating sculpture and decorative arts into a craft he’s long been bound to, emotionally and materially.

Much has happened since. In 2010, Wasinburee Supanichvoraparch was named a Silpathorn Award laureate in Design. His ceramic sculptures, especially the iconic I-Jud figures in varying sizes, have found their way into exhibitions both in Thailand and internationally. Tao Hong Tai has continued to fire kilns and produce works in an incredible range of styles and forms, too many to fully imagine. Ratchaburi, once seen as a province to pass through, has become a destination in its own right—especially in the world of art. Wasinburee also founded d Kunst Art Space and Café, an art gallery dedicated to sharing ceramic knowledge and fostering creative exchange. It is here that he continues to shape, fire, and tell stories—through clay, through memory, and through a life devoted to craft.

02 From Ratchaburi Fish Sauce Jars to Contemporary Sculpture

On another front, around 2017, Art & Culture division of One Bangkok began collaborating with Fine Arts Department, archaeologists, and conservation architects to excavate and reconstruct the remains of Saladaeng Radiotelegraph Station, with the aim of bringing the historic structure back to life.

During the excavation process, a number of invaluable historical remnants and artifacts were unearthed. Among them were the century-old building foundations of the original telegraph station, glass insulators, and traces of daily life once embedded along the Wireless–Rama IV corridor, such as cowrie shells (commonly referred to as ‘bia’, as currency in the Kingdom of Siam), a large amount of ceramic bowls, and, most notably, fragments of glazed fish sauce jars. These dark brown shards, etched with incised patterns, would go on to inspire an entirely new narrative. Experts suspected the fragments originated in Ratchaburi.

“The team brought over the jar shards they had found and asked where they might have been produced. The moment I saw them, the first thing I noticed was the glaze—Chinese and Thai glazes have very distinct characteristics. I immediately thought they must have come from our province. When I showed them to my father, who has bridged generations of our family’s ceramic craft, he confirmed it—those were unmistakably the glaze tones of Ratchaburi.

The reconstruction of the Sala Daeng Wireless Telegraph Station restored the building’s exterior to its original appearance. But its interior was reimagined. Once a hub of telecommunication, the space was transformed into a contemporary exhibition venue: The Wireless House One Bangkok. Here, the narrative of Thailand’s first wireless telegraph station, and the surrounding Wireless–Rama IV area, is told through a modern lens. A central curatorial objective of the permanent exhibition was to incorporate newly commissioned public artworks that engage directly with the site’s rich and layered history.

"Fish sauce jars once answered a very specific need. They were the only practical means of transporting fish sauce to other regions of the country. For me, the fish sauce jar represents more than just a vessel. It’s a symbol of something that brings people together. And when I had the chance to speak with the team and learned that the excavation uncovered many other fragments and materials, a wide variety of containers, it only reinforced the sense that, at a certain point in time, this was a place where great numbers of people gathered.”

“To me, these objects are bits and pieces of collective memory—traces of lives that once filled this place, now forgotten, and slowly being recalled. They reawaken what has faded, making the invisible visible again. That’s incredibly powerful. At that point, the story of the site no longer felt like it was just about fish sauce jars. I began to see the need for a different kind of vessel—something that could embody the broader story. Honestly, at first, being who I am, I thought the final piece had to look modern, contemporary, something sleek and of the moment. But the longer I sat with these fragments, the more my thinking began to shift.”

Feelings and memories from his youth remain etched in the mind of the Ratchaburi artist. He thinks back to the small moments of joy from school days—sitting in circles with friends at lunchtime, waiting to see what dishes everyone had brought from home. There was always a bit of excitement, guessing the menu from each household. The taste didn’t matter as much as the fun that was shared.

After allowing the idea to take shape, Wasinburee chose the form of the pinto, a traditional tiered food container, as the conceptual foundation for the work.

“If we had created a vessel that was entirely futuristic, we couldn’t help but wonder whether it would truly stand the test of time. But when we thought about the pinto, something that has been part of our lives since childhood, long before today’s widespread conversations about the environment or waste, it’s something that has always been there.”

“Looking ahead, environmental concerns will only become more urgent. So rather than designing a vessel based solely on the idea of blending memory with form, why not begin with something that already carries a story; one that connects the past and the present, and can be carried into the future? That’s what the pinto offers.”

03 Tracing Patterns, Sparking Memory

Fragments of incomplete Benjarong porcelain, chipped ceramic vessels showing patterns with only the tip of tree branches remained, faded Chinese characters in cobalt blue, and other scattered remnants—each beckoned the artist’s imagination forward. Wasinburee began the research process, studying historical motifs in order to reconstruct and complete the designs as faithfully as possible.

“Many times, the challenge with PintONE wasn’t just about imagination. It required research as well. That process became the starting point for exploring what the possible original patterns on these damaged vessels might have been. I spoke with historians and archaeologists fluent in Chinese, and we worked together to form hypotheses. From those possibilities, I extended the patterns through imagination, bringing them back to life in a complete work."

From a single fragment, branches extend and once again form a canopy. Trees grow with quiet strength. The lines sway as if in motion, yet remain deeply rooted. Leaves bloom, colors shine, and animals return—each reclaiming its place within the design of the pinto.

“I chose vessels that I felt drawn to—ones that offered room for imagination. And often, it wasn’t just about reviving memories. I wanted to create something contemporary, something that could speak to the present and extend into the future. For example, there was one pattern that began with a tiny fragment, just a trace of clay sediment. In traditional Chinese ceramics, designs often record the landscapes and surroundings of that particular time. I wanted to build on that tradition, adding in elements of today, and injecting a sense of playfulness as well.”

The third-generation heir of the Tao Hong Tai ceramic factory explains that this project was not merely about reviving memories. It was also about carrying those stories forward—anchoring them in the present and extending them into the future. In this spirit, Wasinburee chose to incorporate patterns inspired by Wireless Road, a historic street that marks the birthplace of wireless communication in Thailand and stands as a symbol of Bangkok’s progress. He also included a drawing of I-Jud, his signature dog character, as part of the piece.

“In traditional Chinese ceramics, landscapes were often used to record stories of place—the scenery and surroundings of that particular moment in time. So when we bring these elements back today, I wanted to include the contemporary story of this place as well. I added modern motifs, much like how we study old ceramics and try to find the little details that ancient artisans left behind—their playfulness, their emotions, their sense of fun—now expressed in a contemporary way.”

“We gathered hypotheses, possibilities, and techniques, studied them together, and reconstructed the patterns as completely as possible, then embellished them. For example, gold. In the past, it may have been reserved for a different class of vessels, but I wanted to use it as a symbol of prosperity, grandeur, and the many things that may once again flourish in this place.”

All eight tiers of the pinto are adorned with unique motifs, each bearing its own story. Among them is the Shuang-xi pattern—the Chinese characters meaning “double happiness,” set prominently amidst swirling vine-like designs. There is also the character Shou, symbolizing longevity, a motif traditionally found on blue-and-white porcelain. Some patterns are directly derived from fragments of fish sauce jars excavated from the site, while others, such as rows of peony blossoms, were arranged to form a composition that completes the visual narrative of the pinto.

“Branching forms, pattern interplay—those are things I really enjoy. Every line, every Chinese character, every floral or Benjarong motif, carries a meaning of its own. One of my favorite designs is the spiral motif, which symbolizes continuity and abundance. It represents peace, wholeness, and prosperity—a vision of a life in which these things exist in endless supply. I see that as an ideal—a way of life one might truly strive for.”

04 The Fifth Element of Ceramics

Earth — the grounding substance, the origin of form.
Water — flowing through, binding particles into pliable matter.
Air — invisible yet vital, drawing out moisture, carrying breath through clay.
Fire — the alchemist’s touch, fusing softness into permanence.

The artist from Ratchaburi smiles as he recalls the many challenges that had to be overcome before PintONE could take its final form. One of the greatest obstacles was technical: each tier of the pinto demanded a different level of precision in detail, especially in recreating glazes that resembled those used on vessels made 60 to 70 years ago, and in some cases, nearly a century ago. The process was not only time-consuming, but also required a bit of luck.

“Even the color of the fish sauce jars, which is so full of history, and integral to the legacy of Tao Hong Tai, was no easy task. The wood-fired kilns once used to fire dragon jars and fish sauce jars are no longer in use. So we had to find a way to recreate those historic tones using today’s materials and techniques.”

Wasinburee goes on to explain that mixing ceramic glazes is far more complex than ordinary color blending. “It’s not like mixing blue and red to get purple,” he says. Instead, the process involves a careful balance of oxides, metals, and other raw materials—each affecting the final result in unpredictable ways. Even the color of a glaze before and after firing can be completely different. It is, by nature, a trial-and-error journey that demands both patience and persistence.

“Some colors you’d think would be easy, like blue or pink, but the conditions for using metal oxides, ceramic stains, or pigments from that period are vastly different from the shades we have today. It took more than 20 trials just to get the right opaque blue. Time became a crucial factor. Each glaze test required three to four days of waiting. And even then, it wasn’t as simple as continuing straight away. The kiln might be unavailable, or the firing schedule might not match the required temperature, meaning another two or three weeks of waiting.”

“Time is one of the biggest constraints in ceramic work. If I’m given a three-month deadline, I have to finish designing everything within the first week. And when we say eight pieces, it doesn’t mean we make just eight. We might have to create twelve, thirteen, or even fourteen, because anything can go wrong along the way. The tighter the timeframe, the more we have to build in excess, to prepare for the unexpected.”

The Fifth Element: Fate and Serendipity

Wasinburee shares that working with ceramics involves more than just the classical four elements—earth, water, air, and fire. There is a fifth element just as essential: fate and serendipity.

“It might sound like a joke, but it’s absolutely true. The fifth element is what makes ceramic work unique. Each piece is distinct. Each one carries its own fingerprint—a record of a specific moment in time. ‘Fate’ might imply a negative connotation in certain aspects, but the appearance of the unpredictable isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it often pushes the work forward, expanding the boundaries of how we think and what we believe is possible.”

05 A Land of Imagination

Born of clay, shaped by it, and inseparable from it—Wasinburee has lived a life grounded in the earth. He has been surrounded by clay since childhood, growing up at Tao Hong Tai, where the material is found in abundance. In those early years, clay was nothing more than a toy—a lump without form that he would mold into marbles, try shaping into dinosaurs, letting it shift and take form according to the bounds of imagination. As he grew older, the nature of his relationship with clay began to evolve.

“The more I worked with art, the more I worked with clay. And over time, I began to feel that clay represents so many things. It holds stories, it holds memory. For me, it’s the material I’m most familiar with—the one I feel most at ease working with. It’s a medium of endless possibility, one that allows imagination to take shape and become real.”

Ceramic mugs, plates, and bowls of various sizes and shapes. Basins whose hand-formed quality unmistakably points back to Tao Hong Tai. Walls clad in glazed tiles of every hue. Dragon jars, both traditional and reinterpreted. A mosaic wall assembled from vessels of many proportions. Sculptures in diverse forms. Vivid color and bold line. Together, they speak to the spirit and imagination of this Ratchaburi-born and raised artist.

“Push yourself to the very edge of what’s possible”—this, according to Wasinbuee Supanichvoraparch, is the heart of his artistic practice.

Amid a kiln room filled with terracotta-toned vessels and sculptures awaiting their final firing, we had the chance to speak with the artist at Tao Hong Tai, his family’s ceramic factory in Ratchaburi. Before our conversation came to a close, Wasinburee extended a warm invitation to visit PintONE and to explore one's own imaginationto test limits and weave personal narratives at The Wireless House One Bangkok.

“Beyond the artwork on display, there are stories of telegraphy, of history, so many fascinating things to build upon. Even the words scribbled casually on the walls becomes a record of a moment in time. It turns into history. It reminds us that something we do in the present, something we might not see the meaning or value of just yet, could one day become part of the history of the world.”

“I hope everyone will come and discover the fragments of memory embedded in this place. Each of us carries different elements of memory. I’d love for people to use their own imagination to build on that; to imagine that if you started with the same ceramic shards from the excavation, and didn’t turn them into a pinto, what would you create instead?' Let that be a fun and inspiring starting point. Use your imagination to bring them to life."

PintONE, by Wasinburee Supanichvoraparch, is on view at The Wireless House One Bangkok. Open daily from 10.00 to 20.00 hrs. Free admission.