When the photos told the truth—and the house kept its word.
You see, when I moved things in real life—straightened, wiped, adjusted—I wasn’t just preparing for a photo.
“I was preparing the space.”
By the time guests arrived, the house didn’t just look clean in the pictures. It was.
I didn’t realize it at first, but those careful photo days became routine. Every curtain I straightened for the camera? I now straighten for every stay.
Every frame that caught something out of place taught me to see differently. When our first guest walked in, they smiled and said:
“It looks exactly like the pictures.”
“Actually… it looks even more beautiful in real life.”
😄 I thought it was just a polite compliment. A small bouquet of words.
But later, I realized something deeper:
The space felt more than they expected—especially compared to the moment they made their final booking decision.
Why?
Because it was honest. I don’t lie to my guests.
And my photos don’t either. Sure, maybe I lied a little when I was young—I can’t remember.But not here. Not now. What I saw is what I framed.
As is.
The digital world today pushes everything toward enhancement—retouching, boosting, polishing. But my choice not to alter the image wasn’t because I didn’t know how.
It was because I knew better.
I was a man in the midst of the digital photography revolution.
I stood between two eras—the shift from silver halide to pixels. When digital cameras first arrived, I was excited. I studied how they differed from the old equipment, how to modify and retouch the images. I embraced the learning curve.
Once, I even beamed a retouched image back onto film and entered it into a traditional photography contest.
When my slide lit up the screen, I heard whispers growing louder. Some noticed. Some questioned.
Me? I just smiled in the corner of the room.
They returned the photo to me after the contest, of course. But I believe that moment planted a quiet seed.
Not for rejection—But for reflection.
📸 From Film to Forty Megapixels:
My First Steps with Hasselblad—The Legendary Camera That Went to the Moon
Years after digital photography began to dominate, I was invited to support the launch of a new medium-format camera: the Hasselblad H2D—fully digital, right out of the box.
The name meant something to me.
Hasselblad wasn’t just a camera brand. It was the camera that went to the moon.
To hold one in my hands felt like touching a piece of history.
I was introduced to Shriro Marketing Thailand by someone I deeply respect—Mr. Waranun Chutchawantipakorn, now honored as a National Visual Artist. Through that connection, I trained under Mr. KC Lai from Shriro Singapore, who taught me everything about the H2D (and later the H3D)—from digital workflows to the smallest technical details.
I carried that camera everywhere in my old Ford Ranger (2001), along with a full set of lenses. Studio staff would often joke that the gear in my truck was worth ten times more than the truck itself.
Mr. KC Lai even taught me how to carry and handle the equipment safely—he was meticulous, thoughtful, and deeply respectful of the craft. Even the way he packed a lens was intentional.
I began visiting studios across the country, demonstrating the power of this 39-megapixel medium-format marvel.
The first unit sold in Thailand? It went to my former boss at IQ Lab. (That’s a story for another time.)
The journey into digital photography didn’t stop there.
Next came my time at a small camera shop called Camera Collection. My role expanded—not just demonstrations, but marketing, education, and full support for the Leaf Aptus digital back. It was a revolutionary tool that could breathe new life into old medium-format film cameras. Later, I helped launch the Leaf AFi in Thailand —a bold step forward in digital evolution.
Then came a new opportunity: a German brand preparing to introduce its own medium-format system to professionals in Thailand.
But something changed.
I met a girl. She would later become my wife.
And I made a decision—not just about work, but about life.
I left everything behind. And I moved to Pattaya.
To begin again—not with pixels or product launches, but with purpose.
Now we get back at Thepprasit Cosy, the guests kept arriving.
And when they did, they said:
“Wow.”
Not because I tricked the lens.
Not because I bent the truth.
But because what they saw in the photo
—was waiting for them in real life.
“Not just visual honesty. But trust.”
A house that doesn’t surprise.
A stay that doesn’t disappoint.
A host who doesn’t hide behind filters—
This story is still unfolding—thank you for being part of it.
If it moved you, share it with someone who believes in second chances.
also found on Anat’s LinkedIn profiles