Few names are as delightfully memorable as Juli Baker and Summer, the painterly alias of Bangkok native 'Phaan' Chanaradee Chatrakul Na Ayudhya. Thanks to a stroke of perfect timing, I managed to catch the artist just days before she left for two months of exhibitions and travels. What a relief, I remember thinking, I nearly missed her entirely!

During my visit, I climbed into a treehouse-like hideaway, swooned over a kaleidoscopic, print-brimmed closet she shares with her mom, and stood wide-eyed in her dad’s Beatles-themed room. I’ve always believed that a person’s space and the things they choose to keep around say a lot about who they are, and that morning, Juli’s world opened up a little more. Like the artist, her place was whimsical, layered, and totally one-of-a-kind. It was a visual sugar rush, a riot of colour and personality! I was giddy and completely captivated.

As the morning stretched on, Juli spoke about her journey to becoming a painter in a place where few see such life as possible. We also touched on her favourite films, past works, and what it’s like to be an artist in Thailand. But what stuck with me the most was Juli’s reflection on the freedom she feels to be herself. Unafraid of judgment for the choices she has made and surrounded by a supportive social circle that embraces every version of her, she shared that this environment has allowed her to remain unapologetically herself, with that sense of freedom flowing naturally into her work.

By the time we said our goodbyes, I wanted to be just like Juli, throw on a printed dress and paint the world in technicolour too. Kidding! Mostly… But really, I just felt inspired. Inspired to play and experiment without overthinking or fear of judgment, and to lean even further into who I am.

So I know you’re based in Bangkok now, but did you grow up here too?

Yeah, I was born and raised here. And I... how to say? I tried to find opportunities to live in a different city. I've been an exchange student in different cities and I did an internship abroad, just finding ways to be somewhere else. And then, as I grew up, I started to understand and enjoy the messiness of Bangkok more. I find it very inspiring, despite the politics and issues. That’s probably the main reason that made me want to leave the city. But I don't know, it's home, and I don't really feel like running away from it anymore. 

It’s interesting how your feelings toward Bangkok have shifted—wanting to leave then slowly finding meaning in the messiness. What is it about the city that inspires you now?

The vibes, the people, the culture and basically just the feeling of being home. I’m used to this messiness yet cozy feeling of the city. Everything is open 24/7, which is crazy and wild, but at the same time it means I can go out to see my friends for cozy street food at 3am. There have been a few pro-democracy movements by the people in the past couple of years that I find very inspiring as well. It makes me feel hopeful.

I can feel the affection you have for your home city. Bangkok is such a vibrant, bustling place that it’s hard to get away for sure. What about your artist name? How did you come to be known as Juli Baker and Summer?

When I was around 18, I used to write a film column for a magazine. I wanted to have a pen name at that time, so I put together these two characters from movies that I liked, which were Juli Baker from Flipped and Summer from 500 Days of Summer. I just kept using the name and then used it as my Instagram account for my art until people started remembering me by it. I find it nice, and yes, I really like movies.

Oh, were you in film studies? 

No, I just really like films, and somehow I got the opportunity to be a columnist. I did that for three, four years when I was in university, but I was actually studying fashion design.

That’s so interesting! Were you painting then already? 

A little? Not really. But I've always loved to paint, and I thought that in Thailand, if you're into art, you need to figure out how you could transform what you're interested in and make it sellable. I loved painting women wearing nice clothes, so I thought maybe I could go into fashion. And at that time I didn’t think pursuing art was actually a choice I could make. I didn’t know anyone who could afford to be just an artist. But I thought that if you’re a fashion designer, maybe a brand would hire you so okay, fashion design it is. I didn’t enjoy studying fashion design though, and I really wanted to quit but my parents didn’t want me to. So I treated school assignments more like an art project—not really focusing on how it could be sold as a fashion brand that much. Later, I went to the UK on an exchange for visual communication design. I wasn’t really focusing on fashion anymore, and that’s when I realized I only wanted to paint. I could get really good at it, and maybe it would work out.

I love how painting kept showing up for you, even when you were on a different path. 

But growing up in Thailand, becoming a painter seemed impossible. Like, you just don't know a successful painter!

I totally get that. I didn’t see or know any successful artists growing up either. And for me, even though my parents never discouraged art, I grew up with the idea that a good career choice meant something stable or prestigious. So, for anyone considering a creative path, there’s always that lingering question of how you’re going to make a living from it.

Right, and we also live in a capitalist world too.

Right, and within that system, it’s even more incredible that you’ve managed to carve out a path and sustain a career doing what you love.

Yeah, I was super lucky. 

I'm sure you were more than lucky. I'm sure you worked really hard.

Thank you. I mean, there are a lot of people who work hard and are probably more talented than me. It’s 50% luck, I'm sure, and I'm grateful for that. Especially in Thailand—the art scene here, it’s a bit about connections. I went to a university that is quite well known, and it gave me more opportunities compared to other art students in a way.

So let’s backtrack a bit. You were a fashion design student who really wanted to paint. What happened after that? How did you start making the shift toward painting more seriously?

There was actually a major turning point for me. During my exchange, I went to see David Hockney’s work in London. One of his original paintings is there, and it’s a big landscape piece made up of many small canvases put together. It was just so good, and I felt so inspired. Then I went back to my studio and studied all his works throughout the year. I decided that maybe this could be something I could do, too. After that, I painted a lot and shared many of my paintings on Instagram. Some people saw them, liked them, and invited me to work, collaborate, and exhibit some of my works with them. And it started from there. When I graduated, I already had some job offers, so I’ve been a freelancer since.

How’s the freelance journey been since?

It's been pretty smooth, to be honest. I'm very fortunate. I just need to manage the juggling between commercial art and my personal projects. Because we live in a capitalist world, and in Thailand, the art community is not really supported by the government, so your income depends on clients and brands. I have to do a lot of commercial work to earn money and be seen by the public. But I also want to spend time on my personal projects. Now, people tend to be more understanding of who I am as an artist, and there are people who want to buy my original paintings, which is really cool! If I could choose, I wouldn't do commercial art anymore, to be honest. I just want to make paintings. Now I have more opportunities to be part of exhibitions and sell my art, so I am juggling these two things. I think most art freelancers in Thailand struggle with juggling their art and the need to do commercial art. I know a lot of friends who kind of need to give up on what they really want to paint and paint whatever clients ask for. And that's very sad. It's so... how do I say, draining.

It’s a tough balance—making the art you want while figuring out how to support yourself through client work.

I think one of the hardest parts, above everything else, is witnessing people in my community struggle with things I haven’t personally experienced. Doing art in Thailand, there's not much freedom of expression. For example, some friends of mine have been threatened by the police. They went to their studios and took their brushes and their paintings. But we're trying to promote the democratization of art and make art more accessible to people. There’s still a lot to fight as an artist so that's what I'm really into. I think maybe that's how I can contribute and help my friends. I hope one day our country will reach the point where we're not afraid of highlighting issues in our art. 

Thank you for sharing that. It sounds like you carry a lot, not just for yourself, but for your friends too. I really admire how you’re finding ways to contribute through your own practice. On a different note, I’d love to hear more about a piece of work you’ve made that you feel especially proud of.

There’s more of my work upstairs, but I have this book that I made about a collection of articles I once wrote. It's like a journal about what I witnessed during the pro-democracy movement in Thailand, but from an artistic point of view. It's about women, it's about workers' rights, it's about the fight of the people at that time, and it's about the art community here in Bangkok—a diary of some of my thoughts throughout the protests. I also wrote a bit about how, when I was a fashion design student, I struggled with the beauty standards in fashion. This is how I used to paint women when I was in fashion school. It's weird, they're super tall and skinny.

This book is a proof of evidence of my thoughts at that time. It's scary to reread, though. It's just too honest. It's like facing yourself from the past. It’s even a bit cringey. There are things in here that I don't agree with anymore. It's just the purest form of my thoughts at that time. It's nice, it's scary and it's maybe what art is.

I guess we’re always evolving, and sometimes the things we create feel like little time capsules. What we stood for before might not reflect who we are now.

Of course. But it's different with paintings because you can hide and symbolize your feelings. In writing, and maybe I'm not a good writer, it’s just too straightforward for me. 

That makes a lot of sense. It sounds like painting gives you a bit more space to express things in a way that feels more nuanced. So what are some of the themes you find yourself returning to in your work now?

Women.

What draws you to that theme?

I think it’s because I grew up with my mom, grandma, and my dad too. I was a caregiver for my grandma when she was sick. She passed away two years ago. I just love being a woman, and I’m interested in feminism as well. That's why it's comfortable for me to paint women more than anything. It’s just what I know best, and I have so many favorite female artists. I loved drawing princesses when I was young too. Somehow, women would get involved in some way, but it’s not my intention to always do women’s art. I paint different topics too. But anyway, it would come out through a perspective of being a woman because I'm a woman.

I really love looking at your art. It’s clear how much personal connection and passion you bring to it.

For me, my favourite kind of art is the kind that is very honest—the art that feels intimate with the artist. That's what I try to do with my art. Painting is not just a job for me. It's more like a tool to express my own thoughts and feelings. So, even if I weren’t a painter, I would still need art to release something from my mind because it just comes out naturally; it’s never really planned. And it’s magical when you show your art, and total strangers connect with it in some way. I love that feeling of creating art. Even if they interpret your message in a totally different way, that's still magical and beautiful to me. Even if someone just has a response to it, that's fulfilling for me.

What’s your favourite part of your space?

I love these reading nooks, and I love this sofa. It's so comfy.

I’m seeing a lot of treasures in your studio. Are you a collector of things too? 

Yeah, I collect a lot of stuff that people don't really need.

The collector. I love that type of person. My husband is also a collector of things. I used to wonder, ‘Why do you need all of this?’ but now I think it’s such a beautiful thing. No reason necessary—he collects simply because he loves something that much. I love that personality type, and I wish I could adopt a bit more of that.

I grew up with my mom and dad. They're big collectors, so I can’t compare to them, and you'll see when you walk past my dad's room later. I collect a few things, like these snow globes and some letters from friends. I don't really feel that attached to these things, to be honest, but it's just nice to have. I don’t think I really collect much nowadays. But I love clothing, and my mom and I share clothes. That’s probably one of the things we collect. The next floor is my dad’s floor, and he loves The Beatles. Every time I go up there, there’s something new to see. He keeps going to the flea market every weekend and bringing home more stuff! I try to learn from them, my parents. They’re very young at heart, and I feel like it's rubbed off in ways, for sure.

I can definitely see that! Your space really doesn’t feel like any other I’ve seen. I love how everything in your home feels like it’s been collected and decorated with pure love for the things you cherish. It feels like everything around is an extension of you. The colours, the clothes, your dad’s Beatles room—it all feels so fun and playful too. I think, as adults, we sometimes forget how to play, but your space really brings that feeling back. My impression, and correct me if I’m wrong, is that you have a strong sense of self. From your home to the way you dress and express yourself, it all feels so authentically and unapologetically you. That kind of clarity in identity is really inspiring.

Thank you, it’s nice to hear that. I think we’re all trying to be our true selves as much as we can. Somehow, anyway.

Do you ever think about where that strong sense of self comes from? Has it translated into your work at all as a painter or even in how you navigate your creative career?

Good question, honestly I’ve never thought about that. I think one of the main reasons is that I grew up in an environment that allowed me to be as free as I could. I felt safe experimenting with things in life and was never scared to tell my family or friends that I made some stupid decisions, or fear that they would judge me. I think the key to having a strong sense of self is feeling free, and feeling free is a kind of practice that takes time. I’m fortunate enough to have a healthy social circle that supports me in becoming new, different versions of myself, and yes, it definitely translates into my work. When you’re comfortable with yourself and your thoughts, you find it easier to express them in art.

It’s amazing that your sense of self is so solid that you’ve never really had to question it. It’s also inspiring to hear that you’ve always felt free to be yourself and that you’ve had people around you who support every version of you along the way. I imagine that kind of freedom, without fear of judgment, really helps create a strong foundation for creativity. Thanks for sharing; you make me want to practice that more! And with that kind of mindset, it makes sense that you’ve been able to achieve so much.

Speaking of which, have you done something that once felt impossible?

A lot, actually. I mean, it always feels a little surreal. Many of the opportunities I’ve had in the past were really just the beginning. For example, even the first mural I painted when I was 21 or 22—that was surreal. I didn’t think I’d be able to do a big painting like that before. Or writing a book—I didn’t think I’d be able to do that. That was a dream. Oh, there’s one more thing: I worked with Marimekko last year. That was a dream! I’ve always dreamed of having my own studio, just painting and making a living from it. I’m grateful, as I always say.

I’ve seen your murals all over Bangkok, and they’re such striking, expansive works. In a way, it feels like you’ve brought to life the kind of scale and impact that once inspired you in that David Hockney painting. With everything you’ve lived and learned since then, what would you tell your younger self at the start of her career? What do you think you would have wanted or needed to hear back then?

Good question, although I’m not sure what I’d want to say to her. Maybe just give her a hug and thank her for being herself. That’s it. I’m pretty happy with all the decisions she made—some good, some silly.

When you're working on a piece, do you sketch first, or do you work off a vision in your mind? Can you tell me a bit more about your process?

I make a little sketch before I start, and then I improvise from there. It's like a journey, in a way. I don't like having a precise sketch and simply copying it to make it bigger on a canvas. It loses the fun of the creative process, so I like the uncertainty. Because something will come out of it, and maybe something unexpected will happen along the way. I also didn’t study art, and I never really learned how to paint. But I like to keep a bit of that in my work—the ‘not knowing how to paint’. But because art education in Thailand is very conservative in terms of thinking, technique, and finding inspiration, I’m glad I didn't go through that kind of education. That's one of the lucky parts that made me who I am today. But there are a lot of people who did go to art school and know a lot of techniques that I wish I knew.

I think whatever path helps you grow and stay curious is the right one. I love that you’ve found what works for you, and it’s great that you’re still recognizing opportunities to learn and grow.

I see you pulled this one out of the stack. Can you tell me more about this painting?

I love this piece. It's from an exhibition I did three years ago called Nowhere Woman, and it’s about the pro-democracy movement in Bangkok at the time. The statue here is inspired by the real statue we have in the city centre, which is a statue of the king. But I made this and called it Lady Bird, The People. The name of that painting is actually not movie-related, or maybe it is, subconsciously! I feel like the bird is a symbol of freedom, so I added the word "lady" to it. Although, yes, Lady Bird is one of my favourite coming-of-age movies. It's about a teenage girl from a small town trying to figure herself out by adopting the name Lady Bird and asking people to call her that instead of her own. I resonate so much with that, as I am Thai, Chanaradee, aka Juli Baker and Summer.

Vulnerable Works is about the quiet courage of making. At its core, this project is deeply personal. Through these conversations, I look for perspective and ways to navigate feelings of doubt, uncertainty, and the tension between vision and reality. These stories weave my reflections with those of the artists, offering a glimpse into the process, the trust it demands, the triumphs that keep us going, and the vulnerability inherent in creating. Sometimes I pick up a little more—the songs that fill artists’ studios, bits of their daily routines—but I always return with photographs.

Next, meet Seongil Choi—secret ambitions out, happy work in.