Jittrapon Kaicome is an independent photojournalist from Chiang Mai, Thailand. A self-taught photographer with humble beginnings, he has worked tirelessly to earn the recognition he now receives. He likes to recount how, when he ordained as a Buddhist monk at his mother’s request, he embraced a new life philosophy- one that continues to guide him both personally and professionally.
“Things don’t have to be complex,” he explains. “I like to keep things simple.”
This philosophy has crystallized into a clear mindset that shapes his photographic approach. His spiritual practice has also brought deeper insight, offering a grounded, contemplative lens through which he views the world.
A humble and sensitive visual storyteller, Jittrapon first picked up a camera as a hobby while traveling. It wasn’t until 2014 that photography became a means of telling stories. His first major photo story was captured in his hometown during northern Thailand’s annual air pollution crisis—an event that sparked his interest in broader environmental issues, particularly those related to climate change. That same story brought him to international attention when Le Monde approached him for an assignment.
A turning point in his creative path came when he encountered a quote by photographer David Alan Harvey, encouraging artists to focus on what they know and to build stories around the familiar. That idea changed Jittrapon’s perspective: he realized he didn’t need to chase trends or follow the work of others. Instead, he chose to stay true to what mattered most to him- stories rooted in northern Thailand and its people.
Since then, Jittrapon has dedicated much of his time to documenting and raising awareness about underrepresented ethnic communities in the region. He has extensively covered border areas between Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar- particularly along the Mekong and Salween Rivers. His work also sheds light on the struggles of ethnic minorities from Myanmar who have been affected by decades of conflict and displacement. These injustices move him deeply, and he hopes that his photography can bring greater understanding and visibility to these complex, often overlooked, issues.
In addition to his work on human rights and environmental concerns, Jittrapon is also committed to animal welfare- particularly the relationship between humans and domestic elephants. His work explores how these traditional bonds are perceived and how they can be supported for the benefit of both species.
“I admire people who have a biography to write,” he says. “I feel my journey is still being written.”
And what a journey it is—for this thoughtful, talented Thai photojournalist whose lens continues to open windows into the soul of his homeland.
How did your journey in photography begin? What drew you specifically to photojournalism as a form of storytelling?
I started photography quite late- around my mid-20s, in the mid-2000s. Before that, I used to play around with my dad’s film SLR camera as a kid in the 90s. As I got older, my interest in photography grew. When my dad bought an entry-level digital DSLR around 2006, it coincided with the time I began traveling beyond my comfort zone. I took the camera with me and learned to use it on my travels.
Back then, I enjoyed capturing landscapes and glimpses of people’s livelihoods in the mountainous regions, especially around Chiang Mai and Mae Hong Son. The more I traveled with the camera, the more I felt photography aligned with my curiosity—exploring life and looking for new experiences beyond the familiar, beyond my comfort zone. Through photography, I fell in love with what life offered me, and I became more aware of how photography not only draws me to what I see but also shapes the way I gather experiences in new places. That’s when I decided I wanted to become a professional travel photographer. I claimed all of my dad’s cameras and set out to improve my skills as a self-taught photographer.
Everything changed in 2012 when I was ordained as a monk. My mother had asked me to do it for her, just for a month, as is common in Thai culture, where a son’s ordination is believed to bring merit and auspiciousness to the family. But during that time, I came to understand the true core of Buddhist teachings. Beyond the theory, like the Four Noble Truths, the causes of suffering, and the path to emptiness, it was the deeper questions that stayed with me: Why are we born? What is the highest thing we can do as human beings? How can we live meaningfully and learn to give?
I fell in love with Buddhism and wanted it to become a part of me, to guide me in seeking my higher self and reshape the way I wanted to live. From then on, I continued doing what I loved-photography- while also dedicating myself to constant growth and learning. I saw it as a way to engage with both the external journey of life and the inner journey of the mind.
After six months as a monk, I began creating photographs that felt meaningful to me and that I hoped would be meaningful to others as well. I focused on pairing images with words, capturing nature, culture, and daily life, and writing reflections to accompany the photos.
Eventually, I felt the urge to go further and explore new dimensions of photography. That marked the beginning of my path into photojournalism and documentary work. I learned mostly through the internet and whatever magazines I could find.
To find my voice and focus, I asked myself: What is my life? What surrounds me? What truly matters to me? I decided to start with my hometown and the region where I live. It gave me a clear direction and a strong foundation to begin my journey—one where I could fully be myself and do my best to document the stories of my time.
You’ve said that you “speak for your native northern Thai people”. What does that role mean to you?
Since I’ve always lived in Chiang Mai, most of my photographs have naturally been created in northern Thailand. My work reflects the people of this region and speaks to my uniqueness and background, my roots. At the same time, I also explore the connections between the people here and those in other regions, as well as across borders into neighboring countries like Myanmar and Laos.
You have focused much of your work on the Mekong region, covering stories related to human rights, animal welfare, climate change, and marginalized communities. If you could urge the global community to pay attention to just ONE issue in this region, what would it be? What story do you feel is currently underreported and needs to be heard?
Every issue is important, and I wish the world would pay more attention to the Southeast Asia region. One of the major challenges here is the environment, which involves complex geopolitical and transboundary issues, such as the cascade of dams on the Mekong River. These dams have altered the river’s natural flow and disrupted its ecology, impacting millions of people living downstream across multiple countries.
Among the environmental concerns in the region, I want to highlight an issue close to home: the air pollution crisis in northern Thailand. For over a decade, Chiang Mai and surrounding areas have suffered from some of the worst air quality in the world, especially between March and mid-April. This is largely caused by the burning of forests and vast agricultural lands, which fills the air with toxic smoke and causes severe long-term health risks. One major contributor is the large-scale burning of cornfields, for the animal feed industry, that involves hundreds of thousands of hectares in northern Thailand and neighboring countries. This not only affects our region but also contributes to the global climate crisis, linking our food systems directly to environmental degradation. In 2023, I expanded this topic into a broader story about climate change and corn.
I first documented this issue in 2014–2015. In March 2014, the city streets and surrounding mountains were blanketed in haze. My mouth went dry, and the toxic PM2.5 particles penetrated buildings and homes, and people’s lungs. I wanted to understand what was happening, so I took my camera and drove to the top of Suthep Mountain. From the viewpoint, the city below was barely visible through the thick smog. It was then that I started thinking about how to document this crisis.
At the time, the issue wasn’t receiving enough attention in Thai society, and I felt it was important to speak up for the people of northern Thailand who were suffering through this event in silence. That story became my first major project and the breakthrough that led to my collaboration with National Geographic Thailand in 2014. It marked the beginning of my professional journey as a photojournalist.
Through that story, I realized that environmental issues are deeply connected across regions. This insight inspired me to expand my work on a regional and cross-border level, adding greater depth to the narratives I wanted to tell. It was also what sparked my deeper interest in climate change.
What story that you have documented has changed you the most, either as a photographer or as a person?
Each story holds its own value and offers a unique learning experience. There is one story, a very important one, that I want to share with you. I’m not sure it changed me as a photographer or as a person, but it contains many aspects of life and humanity that have made me reflect deeply.
It is a story that I covered in Karen State, Myanmar, and it is about the Karen people, who are one of Myanmar’s largest ethnic groups living along the eastern border. They have been caught in an ongoing conflict for over seven decades, dating back to Burma’s independence from Britain in 1948. Now in its fifth generation, the conflict continues with no end in sight.
Over the years of going back and forth, I’ve witnessed people in extremely difficult situations and emotional states that have made me reflect on life. The challenges of documenting this story were immense- difficult access and travel within the region required a great deal of patience until the right moment to open up presented itself. At times, I had to push both my own limits and those of the reality around me to find ways to tell their story.
When I began in 2018, the Karen homeland was being disrupted by Burmese development projects such as road construction and planned dams along the Salween River. These projects were connected to skirmishes and land grabs.
After the 2021 coup, the conflict intensified dramatically. For the first time in twenty years, regime fighter planes repeatedly dropped bombs. Thousands fled into the surrounding jungle, and many tried to escape across the border into Thailand for safety. Tragically, Thai authorities often refused to allow them entry, pushing them back into the war zone. I was there when a convoy of people fled the Burmese military’s attacks and artillery shelling, only to be blocked from crossing the border to safety. That moment was heartbreaking- it felt like being rejected, not seen as being human.
At the time I started, this issue received very little coverage in mainstream media, especially in Thailand and Thai society. I was one of the few Thais interested in stories from Myanmar; most others were foreign photographers, journalists, NGOs, and researchers. It feels strange that, although we live as neighbors, so little is known or cared about the people and places nearby, as if they don’t exist. Humanitarian support from the Thai government is lacking, and Thai society pays little attention. My point is that Thai people, whether in the media or not, could and should do more to highlight these stories and support the people, since we are neighbours.
Still, the Karen community has a strong spirit of mutual support on both the Thai and Myanmar sides, which keeps the resistance alive.
My motivation to cover stories of this kind began when I became interested in environmental issues and spent time learning about the cultural differences and way of life of the Thai Karen community in the mountainous regions of Chiang Mai. They are known as role models for conservationists because they live in harmony with nature and have a good heart. Later, I expanded my interest to get to know the Karen people better in their homeland. This marked the beginning of my journey to this region along the Salween River, Southeast Asia’s last free-flowing river, which runs along the border between Myanmar and Thailand.
Working with marginalized communities can be ethically complex. Have you ever had a moment when your presence as a photographer felt problematic? How do you ethically document vulnerable communities?
Yes, sometimes when it comes to personal aspects of life, people don’t want to be photographed, which I completely understand and respect. It’s very important to be sincere and honest. Most of the time, though, people are willing because they want others to see the hardships they’ve endured and hope someone will come to help them.
We always explain our intentions or ask permission from the head of the family, the village chief, or the community leader, depending on the context. It really varies with the situation, location, and culture, so as photographers, we have to carefully observe and make the right decisions.
If a government or authority imposes restrictions to keep the world from seeing certain disasters or truths, that’s another important factor to consider, along with the risks to ourselves, in different contexts.
What impact do you hope your work will have? Have you seen any tangible change or increased awareness as a result of one of your photo projects?
When my work appears publicly in any format, I hope it can make an impact or inspire at least one person to care. Even that, I believe, is already a meaningful benefit.
That person might share the story with their friends, or perhaps one day they’ll grow up to be in a position to create change- at any level. I love seeing people help push for change, and I hope that someday we’ll see shifts in policy, both within the country and beyond.
The key is to be honest in what you do and let the work speak for itself.
You were recently invited to lecture in the International Journalism programme at Khon Kaen University. What advice do you most often share with young or emerging photojournalists who are just starting their careers?
I always tell myself- and I advise others the same- to define for themselves what it means to be a good visual storyteller. Stay true to who you are by observing what resonates with you and what you understand best. Keep an open mind, draw inspiration from the world around you, and always find ways to improve yourself.
Are there any photographers -Asian or international- who have inspired or influenced your work?
I’m inspired by anyone who has discovered their passion and followed their own path. It’s not just photographers- musicians, artists and writers all inspire me in different ways. At it’s heart, life is about storytelling. When a musician composes a song, the right choice of notes can make even the most simple of melodies sound captivating and deeply beautiful.
There is power in simplicity, and in understanding the essence of life. I learnt this from Tommy Emmanuel’s song “Keep it simple”.
Silvia Dona’