Today, my wife and I visited Koh Kret, a small island on the Chao Phraya River, just a short boat ride from Nonthaburi. It’s a peaceful escape from the bustle of Bangkok, yet it holds centuries of history and culture within its shores.
We met Weera (วีระ), an 80-year-old artist who has lived on this island his entire life. He was born here in 1945 (thai year 2488) into the Mon ethnic community, one of the groups that have called Koh Kret home for generations. As we talked, he shared stories from his youth and how he discovered painting unexpectedly while deployed during the Vietnam War, joining an art program that sparked his passion. After returning to Thailand, he worked for the local government while his wife sold food on the island. Now, painting is his quiet refuge and his way of remembering what has been lost. He proudly mentions how all of his sons ended up going to university.
This watercolor he painted captures Koh Kret as it once was: wooden stilt houses leaning into the river, small fishing boats resting by the shore, soft pink hues of the sunset reflecting across the water. He told me none of these houses survive anymore. Repeated floods washed them away, and newer construction methods changed the landscape forever. This painting is not just an imagined scene but a memory, a piece of lived history preserved on paper.
To understand why it feels so meaningful, you need to know a little about Koh Kret itself. The island was born in 1722, during the Ayutthaya period, when a shortcut canal was dug to make river navigation easier. Over time, the tide widened the canal until it encircled a piece of land, creating what was then called Koh Salakul. Later, during the reign of King Rama V, it became known as Koh Kret (“Kret” meaning “shortcut river”).
What makes Koh Kret truly special is its people. Many of its residents are descendants of the Mon ethnic group, originally from southern Myanmar, who were invited to settle here during the late 18th century under King Taksin, and again during the early Rattanakosin era in 1815. The Mon brought with them their culture, traditions, and craftsmanship, especially their distinctive pottery. Today, Koh Kret is home to three communities: Mon, Thai, and Muslim. The all live together on this small island that has no bridges, only boats connecting it to the mainland.
Weera’s painting is, in a way, a love letter to the Koh Kret of his childhood. It’s a glimpse into a way of life that has almost disappeared, swept away by floods, time, and progress.
As I look at it now, I realize it’s more than just a beautiful scene. It’s a reminder of how places evolve, how memories outlive the physical world, and how art can keep those memories alive for the next generation.