You know you’re on a good start when your host casually states that the crocodiles are polite but the dogs aren’t. This is rural Thailand at its magical best: lush vegetation, a menagerie of fauna, and listening to Thailand’s foremost mother-of-pearl expert, Jukkit Suksawat.
Jukkit holds an envious position: his craft exudes unparalleled excellence and artistry. He patiently explains, in a mix of Thai and English, how he conceptualises and executes his work. In between we share our life stories, laugh at our mistakes, and hopefully learn from one another, even though I am positive that the learning is completely lopsided in my favour.
Jukkit learnt his craft in the mid-1990s by following a course on mother-of-pearl inlay, sponsored by the Thai royal family. Having previously studied art and sculpture, this was his chance to accomplish something quite different.
Thai mother-of-pearl, he explains, while preparing coffee, is unique in terms of subject matter and technique. Inspired by Thai culture and his natural surroundings, Jukkit sketches intricate mind-blowing designs. He then proceeds to show me how he processes and cuts mother-of-pearl.
Historically, mother-of-pearl used to be harvested from the seas around Thailand. However, the best mother-of-pearl comes from India, Indonesia, and Myanmar. It is quite expensive: about €60 per kilo, excluding shipping and taxes. Using a simple electric bench grinder, he carefully takes away the outer layer of a shell, exposing the gorgeously iridescent mother-of-pearl.
After sawing several larger pieces, he starts working on the individual smaller pieces. The latter fit a preconceived design, executed on a kind of tracing paper. He cuts these smaller pieces by hand utilising a coping saw. Each piece is carefully sanded, and then attached to the design using a weak water-based glue.
Some of these pieces are exceedingly small – less than a centimetre in length. Watching this process leaves me in awe – the muscle memory and technique needed to accomplish this is quite on another level.
“I might as well be cutting a piece of cake” he casually stated later, as he offered me a typical Thai lunch of spicy pork with noodles.
Over lunch he discusses the importance of education and lifelong learning, displaying the same passion he has for his beloved mother-of-pearl. After lunch, Jukkit explains the different methods whereby the mother-of-pearl pattern is attached using lacquer to the artefact being made.
Thai lacquer is made from the sap of a tree called Gluta usitata. It is yellowish in colour, but quickly turns jet black after a couple of weeks. This black lacquer is then mixed with ash from burned banana leaves, forming a paste. This paste is used to fill in the gaps in the mother-of-pearl. This is repeated several times until all the gaps among the mother-of-pearl pieces are filled in.
Thai lacquer, indeed, Asian lacquer, is not easy to use. Caution is required since uncured Asian lacquer can cause severe contact dermatitis. Once cured, all types of Asian lacquer are safe. In fact, one may purchase dining utensils, including forks, spoons and bowls finished with lacquer.
Jukkit purchases lacquer from a community on Omgoy, Chiang Mai, Thailand.
“They are a poor community. I prefer helping these communities, rather than purchasing lacquer from abroad,” he says.
Just like the weather reveals fossils, sanding and polishing reveal the embedded mother-of-pearl.
As I write this, Jukkit explains his philosophy: “I don’t want to copy other artists. This has cost me money but bought me happiness.”
The leaves rustle as he smiles – he is at ease with himself and his surroundings. After all, maybe this is what is meant by that elusive term “Thainess”.
Nicholas Zarb is a senior lecturer at the University of Malta, and lectures Systems of Knowledge. He has a deep passion for Thai and Japanese lacquerware.
