Photography and text by Craig Hull
High in the forested hills of northern Thailand, where mist clings to bamboo groves and the morning air carries the scent of woodsmoke, live the Karen people—an ethnic group with roots stretching deep into the borderlands of Myanmar (Burma). For centuries, the Karen—also spelled Kariang or Kayin—have been shaped by migration, resilience, and ritual. Today, many live in refugee villages and tribal settlements across Chiang Mai, Mae Hong Son, and other northern provinces of Thailand, seeking safety from decades of conflict and displacement.
My documentary project explores the visual poetry of Karen life, weaving together simple portraits and situational photographs that highlight both the individuality and collective spirit of this enduring tribe. From the deeply lined faces of elders to the cautious but curious expressions of youth, the series reveals a quiet strength within their stories—of land, loss, culture, and identity.
The Karen, especially the subgroup known as the Padaung or Long Neck Karen, are perhaps most widely recognized for the brass coils worn around the necks of women. Contrary to common myth, the rings do not “stretch” the neck but rather push down the collarbone, creating the illusion of elongation. The origins of the tradition are unclear—some say it was meant to protect against tiger bites, others suggest it was to discourage slavery or to enhance beauty within their cultural standard. Whatever the reason, today it functions as a powerful visual symbol of cultural pride—and, increasingly, as a point of discussion around identity in a modernizing world.
This project does not aim to romanticize or reduce the Karen to their most visible features. Instead, I focused on a blend of posed and candid moments: a child cradling a dog on a dusty trail; a grandmother weaving under the light of a single bulb; young girls adjusting their rings while giggling behind woven curtains. These are images born of quiet observation and trust, built over time and through shared meals, gestures, and conversations.
The Karen live between borders—not only geographic, but generational, cultural, and political. Through this documentary work, I hope to honor their complexity and share a visual narrative that transcends surface curiosity. In the folds of tradition, in the gaze of a child, in the metal that bends but does not break, there is a story worth telling.
