Cambodian Centre for Documentary Photography

Cambodian Centre for Documentary Photography Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Cambodian Centre for Documentary Photography, Educational Research Center, HVRX+8P3, Street 598, Phnom Penh.

The Cambodian Centre for Documentary Photography (CCDP) is an educational centre, archive, and association dedicated to cultivating and enriching the practice of documentary photography in Cambodia.

// Medium Format Film Workshop //Have you ever wanted to learn how to shoot medium format film? Now is your chance! The ...
19/03/2026

// Medium Format Film Workshop //

Have you ever wanted to learn how to shoot medium format film? Now is your chance!

The Cambodian Centre for Documentary is hosting a film portrait session for beginners who want to gain experience with medium-format cameras in a fun and relaxed atmosphere. You will also learn how to process your own color film and be able to scan your film with professional equipment in CCDP's film lab.

πŸ“STABLE Coffee and Bakery TK
⏰ Sunday, March.29th 8:00am-5:00pm

Cost: 50$ / per person
- Film and camera provided
- Your portrait on film (or portrait of a model)
- Color processing tutorial
- Scan on professional grade scanners and learn color theory
- Informal critique, tips, & discussions with professionals
- Meeting film lovers in the photography community

Scan our Telegram to sign-up
https://t.me/lim_sokchanlina

πŸ“£ Apply for GiGa photo award untill 17 March!!!https://site.picter.com/giga-photo-award-2026Winners πŸ†1. Single Image:Fir...
12/03/2026

πŸ“£ Apply for GiGa photo award untill 17 March!!!

https://site.picter.com/giga-photo-award-2026

Winners πŸ†

1. Single Image:

First Place:

Giga Photo Fellowship of 2,500 USD

Mentorship

Second Place:

Prize money of 1,500 USD.

Portfolio review by editor, National Geographic

Third Place:

Prize money of 500 USD

2. Junior Visual Storyteller

First Place:

Mentorship

iPad awarded by ART Computer

Second Place:

Portfolio review by editor, National Geographic

Third Place:

A photobook

3. Multiple Image:

First Place:

Giga Photo Fellowship of 3,000 USD

Mentorship

Macbook awarded by ART Computer

Second Place:

Prize money of 1,000 USD

Portfolio review by editor, National Geographic

Third Place:

Prize money of 500 USD

Giga is pleased to announce the Giga Photo Award 2026, centered on the theme "The Urgency of Connectivity." The award invites photographers from around the world to document how digital connection is lived, relied upon, and sustained in everyday life, particularly in fragile, crisis‑affected, and ...

10/03/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops
It is our last photo story from our participants.

αžœαž»αž„ សអរអ
αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž“αŸ…αž‘αžΈαž“αŸαŸ‡ αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž“αŸ…αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡

αž˜αž·αžαŸ’αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ† Zak αž‚αžΊαž‡αžΆαžœαž·αž…αž·αžαŸ’αžšαž€αžšαžœαŸαž™αž€αŸ’αž˜αŸαž„αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‘αžΎαž”αžαŸ‚αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αž“αŸ…αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αž€αžΆαž›αž–αžΈαž€αž»αž˜αžΆαžšαž—αžΆαž–αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžœαž·αž‰αž“αŸ…αžŸαŸ’αžšαž»αž€αž–αž½αž‚αŸ” αžŠαŸ†αž”αžΌαž„αž‘αžΎαž™ αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αžͺαž–αž»αž€αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžŽαŸ’αžαŸαž‰αž…αŸαž‰αž€αžΆαž›αž–αžΈαž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαŸ†αž˜αž½αž™αž†αŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ†αž˜αž»αž“ αž αžΎαž™αž”αž“αŸ’αž‘αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž˜αž€αž”αžΆαž“αžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž‘αžΈαž€αŸ’αžšαž»αž„αž—αŸ’αž“αŸ†αž–αŸαž‰ αž“αž·αž„αž€αŸ’αžšαž»αž„αžŸαŸ€αž˜αžšαžΆαž”αŸ”
αž₯αž‘αžΌαžœαž“αŸαŸ‡ αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“αžŸαž»αŸ†αž±αŸ’αž™αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžαŸ’αžšαž‘αž”αŸ‹αž˜αž€αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžœαž·αž‰αŸ” αž”αŸ’αžšαž αŸ‚αž›αž˜αž½αž™αžαŸ‚αž αžΎαž™αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αžαžΆαŸ†αž„αž–αžΈαž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžαŸ’αžšαž‘αž”αŸ‹αž˜αž€αžœαž·αž‰αŸ”
αžαžΎαž˜αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž“αŸ‚αž€αžαŸ’αž›αŸ‡αž“αŸƒαž’αžαŸ’αžαžŸαž‰αŸ’αž‰αžΆαžŽαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αž„αŸ’αž€αŸ’αžšαžΆαž”αžŠαŸ‚αžšαž¬αž‘αŸ? αžαžΎαž”αŸ’αžšαžœαžαŸ’αžαž·αž“αŸƒαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž˜αž½αž™αž“αŸαŸ‡ αž’αŸ’αžœαžΎαž±αŸ’αž™αžˆαžΊαž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž–αŸαž€αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž€αžΆαžšαžŸαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž“αŸ…αžŠαŸ‚αžšαžšαžΊαž‘αŸ?
αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž“αžΆαž˜αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž‡αžΆαžœαž·αž…αž·αžαŸ’αžšαž€αžšαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž”αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž˜αž€αž‘αžΈαž“αŸαŸ‡αžœαž·αž‰αž€αžΆαž›αž–αžΈαž˜αž½αž™αž†αŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ†αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‡αž˜αž»αž“αž–αžΈαž‘αžΈαž€αŸ’αžšαž»αž„ Melbourne αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž—αžΆαž–αž›αŸ†αž”αžΆαž€αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž“αžΉαž„αž€αžΆαžšαžšαž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαž‡αžΆαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„ αž“αž·αž„ αžŸαŸαžšαžΈαž—αžΆαž–αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž“αŸ…αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž αžΆαž€αŸ‹αžŠαžΌαž…αž‡αžΆ
αžαŸ‚αž„αžαŸ‚αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αžŸαž½αžšαž‡αžΆαž“αž·αž…αŸ’αž…αŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž†αŸ’αž„αž›αŸ‹αžαžΆ αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž€αŸ†αž–αž»αž„αžšαž»αž€αžšαž€αž•αŸ’αž›αžΌαžœαžŠαžΌαž…αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆαž™αŸ‰αžΆαž„αžŠαžΌαž…αž˜αŸ’αžαŸαž…αžŠαŸ‚αžšαŸ”

WONG, Sarah
β€œTo be here, to be at home”
My friend Zak is a young surrealist painter who has recently moved back to his childhood house and village in Pouk. He was
initially kicked out by his parents six years ago and then lived in Phnom Penh and Siem Reap.
His mother has now asked him to come back home. It has been around a month since his return.
Were there parts of his identity that he had to suppress? Would the history of the place make it too painful to stay?
As a practicing artist who moved back here a year and a half ago from Melbourne, I struggled with maintaining my sense of
self and freedom in a place that always seemed to question it. I wondered how he was navigating the same.

09/03/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops
Stay tone for the next one more photo story.

αž‘αžΈαžœ αžšαž·αž‘αŸ’αž’αž·αžšαžΆαž‡
αž›αž·αžαž·αžαž•αŸ’αž‰αžΎαž‡αžΌαž“αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„αž’αžΆαž™αž» 20 αž†αŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ†αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†

αžŸαžΌαž˜αž…αž„αž…αžΆαŸ†αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž“αŸαŸ‡αŸ” αž˜αž·αž“αž˜αŸ‚αž“αž‡αžΆαž˜αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž˜αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαžŸαžšαžŸαžΎαžš αž¬αž–αžΉαž„αž•αŸ’αž’αŸ‚αž€αž›αžΎαž“αŸ„αŸ‡αž‘αŸαŸ” αž˜αž·αž“αž˜αŸ‚αž“αž‡αžΆαž’αŸ’αž“αž€αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžŽαŸ‚αž“αžΆαŸ†αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αž€αŸ†αžŽαžαŸ‹αžŠαŸ„αž™αžαž½αž“αžΆαž‘αžΈαž“αŸ„αŸ‡αž‘αŸαŸ”
αžŠαŸ„αž™αž”αžΆαž“αž€αžΎαžαž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž”αŸ’αžšαž‘αŸαžŸαž€αž˜αŸ’αž–αž»αž‡αžΆαž‡αžΆαž•αŸ’αž“αŸ‚αž€αž˜αž½αž™αž“αŸƒαž‡αŸ†αž“αžΆαž“αŸ‹ Gen Zαž˜αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžŠαžΌαž…αž‡αžΆαž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαŸ—αž‚αŸ’αžšαž”αŸ‹αž™αŸ‰αžΆαž„αž€αŸ†αž–αž»αž„αž”αŸ’αžšαž€αž½αžαž”αŸ’αžšαž‡αŸ‚αž„αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž‘αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αžΆαž‰αž…αŸ†αžŽαžΆαž”αŸ‹αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž™αžΎαž„αžαžΆαž˜αžœαž·αž’αžΈαž•αŸ’αžŸαŸαž„αŸ—αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆ αž‡αžΆαž–αž·αžŸαŸαžŸαž“αŸ…αž›αžΎαž”αŸ’αžšαž–αŸαž“αŸ’αž’αž•αŸ’αžŸαž–αŸ’αžœαž•αŸ’αžŸαžΆαž™αžŸαž„αŸ’αž‚αž˜αŸ” αžœαžΆαž–αž·αž”αžΆαž€αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž€αžΆαžšαž”αž“αŸ’αž›αžΊαžŸαŸ†αž‘αŸαž„αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαž‘αŸ€αžαž αžΎαž™αŸ” αž‡αžΆαž›αž‘αŸ’αž’αž•αž› αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž˜αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžαžΆαžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž€αŸ†αž–αž»αž„αž’αžŸαŸ‹αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆ αž“αž·αž„ αž›αŸ†αž αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž€αŸ’αž›αžΆαž™αž‡αžΆαž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαž˜αŸ’αž™αŸ‰αžΆαž„αŸ”
αž‚αŸ„αž›αžŠαŸ…αž“αŸƒαž€αžΆαžšαž„αžΆαžšαž“αŸαŸ‡αž‚αžΊαžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž”αž„αŸ’αž αžΆαž‰αž–αžΈαž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαž–αž·αžαž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαž€αžŠαž”αŸ†αž•αž»αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αŸ” αž…αŸ†αž–αŸ„αŸ‡αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ† αžœαžΆαž‚αžΊαž‡αžΆαž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαž“αŸ…αž…αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ„αŸ‡αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž€αŸ†αžŽαžαŸ‹αžαžΆαž™αžΎαž„αž‡αžΆαž“αžšαžŽαžΆαŸ” αž‘αž˜αŸ’αžšαž„αŸ‹αž–αž·αžαž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαž€αžŠαž”αŸ†αž•αž»αžαž“αŸƒαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž™αžΎαž„αž’αžΆαž…αž›αŸαž…αž…αŸαž‰αž˜αž€αž”αžΆαž“αž›αž»αŸ‡αžαŸ’αžšαžΆαžαŸ‚αž™αžΎαž„αž˜αžΎαž›αž˜αž·αž“αžƒαžΎαž‰ αž“αž·αž„αž“αŸ…αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž―αž„αŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž‘αž‘αž½αž›αž₯αž‘αŸ’αž’αž·αž–αž›αž–αžΈαž”αžšαž‘αŸαžŸ αžŠαŸ„αž™αžšαŸ€αž“αž–αžΈαž‡αž“αž”αžšαž‘αŸαžŸαžαžΆαŸ†αž„αž–αžΈαž€αŸ’αž˜αŸαž„ αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸαŸ‡αž”αŸ’αžšαž αŸ‚αž›αž‚αŸ†αž›αžΆαžαžšαžœαžΆαž„αž’αžαŸ’αžαžŸαž‰αŸ’αž‰αžΆαžŽαžšαžΌαž”αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž•αŸ’αž‘αžΆαž›αŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž–αž·αž—αž–αž›αŸ„αž€αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸ…αž‡αž»αŸ†αžœαž·αž‰αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αŸ” αž€αžΆαžšαž•αŸ’αžαžΆαž…αŸ‹αž‘αŸ†αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αŸ†αž“αž„αžšαžœαžΆαž„αž”αžšαž·αž™αžΆαž€αžΆαžŸαž“αŸƒαž—αŸ’αž›αžΊ αž“αž·αž„αž—αžΆαž–αž…αž˜αŸ’αžšαž»αŸ‡αž–αžŽαŸŒαžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžšαž€αžƒαžΎαž‰αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„αž“αŸ…αžαŸ’αžšαž„αŸ‹αžŽαžΆ αž“αž·αž„αž—αžΆαž–αžœαžΉαž€αžœαžšαžαžΆαž„αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αžŠαŸαžŸαŸ’αž„αž”αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžšαž„αŸ’αž‚αŸ„αŸ‡αžšαž„αŸ’αž‚αžΎαžš αž€αžΆαžšαžŸαŸ’αžœαŸ‚αž„αžšαž€ αž“αž·αž„αžŸαŸαž…αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαžαŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ”

RITHYREAK, Tiv
β€œLetter to My 20-Year-Old Self”

Remember this version of me. Not the one people praised or relied on. Not the one who introduced himself defined by roles.
Having been born in Cambodia as part of Gen Z, it feels as if everything is competing for our attention in a variety of ways,
especially on social media. It is difficult to resonate with anything anymore. As a result, I feel like I am running out of time and
space to be.
The goal of this work is to show the most genuine versions of myself. For me, it is the in-between moments that shape who
we are. The most authentic forms of ourselves can only emerge when we are unseen and alone. I have a foreign-influenced
background, learning from foreigners at a young age, which perhaps creates a distance between who I feel I am and the
world that surrounds me. There is a disconnect between the bright and colorful environments I find myself in and a silent
inner chaos that rumbles, searches, and desires.

08/03/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops
Stay tone for the next 2 more photos stories.

αž‰αŸ‰αŸαž‰, αž‰αŸ‰αžΊαž“
αžŸαŸ’αžšαž˜αŸ„αž›αž“αŸ…αž–αŸ’αžšαŸ†αžŠαŸ‚αž“

αžŸαŸ’αž“αžΆαžŠαŸƒαž“αŸαŸ‡αž–αžŽαŸŒαž“αžΆαž’αŸ†αž–αžΈαž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαž‡αž“αž—αŸ€αžŸαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž˜αž½αž™αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αžαžΆαž˜αž–αŸ’αžšαŸ†αžŠαŸ‚αž“αžŠαŸαž•αž»αž™αžŸαŸ’αžšαž½αž™αžšαžœαžΆαž„αž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž› αž“αž·αž„αž”αž…αŸ’αž…αž»αž”αŸ’αž”αž“αŸ’αž“αž€αžΆαž› αžšαžœαžΆαž„αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαžŸαž„αŸ’αžƒαžΉαž˜ αž“αž·αž„αž€αžΆαžšαž”αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αž„αŸ‹αŸ” αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αžαžΌαž…αž˜αž½αž™ αž˜αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαž…αžΆαžŸαŸ‹ αž€αž»αž˜αžΆαžš αž“αž·αž„αžŸαŸ’αžαŸ’αžšαžΈαž‡αžΆαž…αŸ’αžšαžΎαž“αž‡αŸ†αž“αžΆαž“αŸ‹αž…αŸ‚αž€αžšαŸ†αž›αŸ‚αž€αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„ αž“αž·αž„αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαžŠαžΌαž…αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆ αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž”αž„αŸ’αž€αžΎαžαž‘αžΆαŸ†αž„αž—αžΆαž–αžŸαŸ’αž“αž·αž‘αŸ’αž’αžŸαŸ’αž“αžΆαž› αž“αž·αž„αž—αžΆαž–αžαžΆαž“αžαžΉαž„αž•αŸ’αž›αžΌαžœαž…αž·αžαŸ’αžαŸ” αž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαž”αŸ’αžšαž…αžΆαŸ†αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαž”αž“αŸ’αžαžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαŸ’αž„αž”αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹ αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αžšαŸ„αž˜αžœαžΆαžŸαŸ’αžαž·αžαž“αŸ…αž›αžΎαžŸαŸαž…αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαžŸαŸ’αžšαž‘αžΆαž‰αŸ‹ αž€αžΆαžšαž…αž„αž…αžΆαŸ†αž–αžΈαž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž› αž“αž·αž„αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαžŸαž»αž”αž·αž“αŸ’αžαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž˜αž·αž“αž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαž€αžŠαž”αŸ’αžšαž‡αžΆαž’αŸ†αž–αžΈαž’αž“αžΆαž‚αžαŸ”
αž‡αž˜αŸ’αžšαž€αž”αžŽαŸ’αžαŸ„αŸ‡αž’αžΆαžŸαž“αŸ’αž“αž’αŸ’αžœαžΎαž–αžΈαž€αŸ’αžšαžŽαžΆαžαŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αžˆαžΎαž”αž„αŸ’αž αžΆαž‰αž–αžΈαž—αžΆαž–αž„αžΆαž™αžšαž„αž‚αŸ’αžšαŸ„αŸ‡αž“αŸƒαž’αžαŸ’αžαž·αž—αžΆαž– αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αžœαžΆαž€αŸαž”αž„αŸ’αž αžΆαž‰αž–αžΈαž€αžΆαžšαžαžŸαŸŠαžΌ αž“αž·αž„αž—αžΆαž–αž’αž“αŸ‹αž•αž„αžŠαŸ‚αžšαŸ” αž€αŸ‚αžœαž—αŸ’αž“αŸ‚αž€αžŸαŸ’αž„αž”αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αžšαžΆαž„αž€αžΆαž™αžšαžΉαž„αž˜αžΆαŸ†αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž˜αžΆαž“αžŸαŸ’αžšαž˜αŸ„αž›αž“αŸƒαž€αžΆαžšαžˆαžΊαž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž€αžΆαžšαžšαžŸαŸ‹αžšαžΆαž“αž˜αžΆαž“αž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαŸ” αž‘αŸ„αŸ‡αž”αžΈαž‡αžΆαž‡αž˜αŸ’αžšαž€αž‘αžΆαŸ†αž„αž“αŸαŸ‡αž˜αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž…αž€αžΆαžšαž–αžΆαžšαž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž–αžΈαž€αžΆαžšαž›αŸ†αž”αžΆαž€αž‘αžΆαŸ†αž„αž’αžŸαŸ‹αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαž€αŸαžŠαŸ„αž™ αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαž“αŸ…αžαŸ‚αž‡αžΆαž‡αž˜αŸ’αžšαž€αžŠαŸαž‡αŸ’αžšαŸ…αž”αŸ†αž•αž»αž αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž•αŸ’αžαž›αŸ‹αž“αžΌαžœαž€αž˜αŸ’αž›αžΆαŸ†αž„αž•αŸ’αž›αžΌαžœαž…αž·αžαŸ’αž αž“αž·αž„αžŸαŸαž…αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαžαŸ’αž›αŸƒαžαŸ’αž“αžΌαžšαŸ”
αžšαžœαžΆαž„αž—αžΆαž–αžŸαŸ„αž€αžŸαŸ… αž“αž·αž„αž€αŸ’αžαžΈαžŸαž„αŸ’αžƒαžΉαž˜ αž€αžΆαžšαž‚αŸ„αžšαž–αž–αŸ’αžšαŸ‡αž–αž»αž‘αŸ’αž’αžŸαžΆαžŸαž“αžΆ αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‡αžΆαž‚αŸ’αžšαžΉαŸ‡αžαžΆαž„αžœαž·αž‰αŸ’αž‰αžΆαžŽαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžšαž‘αŸαžŸαž€αž˜αŸ’αž–αž»αž‡αžΆ αž€αŸ’αž›αžΆαž™αž‡αžΆαž”αŸ’αžšαž—αž–αž“αŸƒαž€αžΆαžšαž’αžαŸ‹αž’αŸ’αž˜αžαŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž‡αŸ†αž“αžΏαŸ” αžœαžΆαž‡αž½αž™αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž±αŸ’αž™αžŸαŸŠαžΌαž‘αŸ’αžšαžΆαŸ†αž“αžΉαž„αž—αžΆαž–αžαžΆαž“αžαžΉαž„ αžšαž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαžŸαž“αŸ’αžαž·αž—αžΆαž–αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžš αž“αž·αž„αžŸαŸŠαžΌαž‘αŸ’αžšαžΆαŸ†αž“αžΉαž„αž”αž‰αŸ’αž αžΆαž”αŸ’αžšαžˆαž˜αž“αŸƒαž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαžŠαŸ„αž™αž—αžΆαž–αž’αž“αŸ‹ αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαŸ’αž„αž”αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ”
αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžƒαžΎαž‰αž‡αž“αž—αŸ€αžŸαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž˜αž€αžŠαž›αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αžšαž»αž€αž€αŸ†αžŽαžΎαžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ† αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž˜αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžŸαŸ„αž€αžŸαŸ… αž“αž·αž„αž†αŸ’αž›αž»αŸ‡αž”αž‰αŸ’αž…αžΆαŸ†αž„αž™αŸ‰αžΆαž„αž‡αŸ’αžšαžΆαž›αž‡αŸ’αžšαŸ…αŸ” αž—αŸ’αž“αŸ‚αž€αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž”αž„αŸ’αž αžΆαž‰αž–αžΈαž—αžΆαž–αž’αžŸαŸ‹αž€αž˜αŸ’αž›αžΆαŸ†αž„ αž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž›αž–αŸ„αžšαž–αŸαž‰αžŠαŸ„αž™αž€αžΆαžšαž”αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αž„αŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž’αž“αžΆαž‚αžαž–αŸ„αžšαž–αŸαž‰αžŠαŸ„αž™αž—αžΆαž–αž˜αž·αž“αž”αŸ’αžšαžΆαž€αžŠαž”αŸ’αžšαž‡αžΆαŸ” αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž˜αž€αžŠαŸ„αž™αž˜αžΆαž“αžŸαž„αŸ’αžƒαžΉαž˜αžαž·αž…αžαž½αž… αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‡αŸ†αžšαž»αž‰αžŠαŸ„αž™αž€αžΆαžšαžαžŸαŸŠαžΌαžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαžšαžŸαŸ‹αžšαžΆαž“αž˜αžΆαž“αž‡αžΈαžœαž·αž αž–αžΈαž–αŸ’αžšαŸ„αŸ‡αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αž”αŸ†αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαž‰αžŠαŸ„αž™αž’αŸ’αž“αž€αž‡αž·αžαžαžΆαž„αŸ” αžœαžαŸ’αžαž˜αžΆαž“αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαžšαŸ†αž›αžΉαž€αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžαžΆ αžŸαž“αŸ’αžαž·αž—αžΆαž– αžŠαžΈαž’αŸ’αž›αžΈ αž“αž·αž„αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž”αŸ‚αž„αž˜αž·αž“αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαž“αžΆαž“αžΌαžœαž‘αŸ’αžšαž–αŸ’αž™αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž”αžαŸ’αžαž·αž“αŸ„αŸ‡αž‘αŸαŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž˜αžΎαž›αžƒαžΎαž‰αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž˜αž·αž“αžαŸ’αžšαžΉαž˜αžαŸ‚αž‡αžΆαž‡αž“αž—αŸ€αžŸαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž”αŸ‰αž»αžŽαŸ’αžŽαŸ„αŸ‡αž‘αŸ αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž‡αžΆαž˜αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž€αŸ†αž–αž»αž„αžŸαŸ’αžœαŸ‚αž„αžšαž€αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαžŸαŸ’αž’αŸ‚αž€αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž”αŸ’αžšαžŸαžΎαžšαž‡αžΆαž„αž˜αŸ’αžŸαž·αž›αž˜αž·αž‰αŸ”

NHEAN, Nheun
"Shadows at the Borderline"

This work depicts the life of a refugee family living at the fragile border between past and present, between hope and loss. In a small space, several generations of elders, children, and women share the same place and time, creating both intimacy and emotional tension. Daily life continues quietly, yet beneath it lies love, memories of the past, and uncertain dreams of the future.

The temporary shelters of cloth and wood reveal the vulnerability of existence, but they also testify to struggle and resilience. Their calm eyes and strong bodies carry shadows of pain and survival. Though these shelters cannot protect them from all of life’s hardships, family remains the deepest refuge, offering psychological strength and dignity.

Between sadness and hope, respect for Buddhism, the spiritual foundation of Cambodia, becomes a source of patience and faith. It helps them cope with stress, maintain peace within the family, and endure life’s challenges with quiet resilience.

When I see refugees arriving in my homeland, I feel a profound sadness and reflection. Their eyes reveal exhaustion, a past filled with loss, and a future clouded with uncertainty. They come with little hope, driven only by the struggle to survive, because their homes have been destroyed by neighbors. Their presence reminds me that peace, land, and home are never guaranteed possessions. I see them not only as refugees, but as human beings searching for a tomorrow that is better than yesterday.

Send a message to learn more

08/03/2026
05/03/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops
Stay tone for the next 3 more photos stories.

αž‘αžΆαž™ αž…αžΆαž“αŸ‹αžœαžΆαžŸαž“αžΆ
αžŸαžšαžŸαŸαžšαž’αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαžΆαžœαžšαžΈαž™αŸαž‘αžΎαž„αžœαž·αž‰

αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αž„αž•αž»αžαž‘αŸ…αž™αŸ‰αžΆαž„αž›αžΏαž“αŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž”αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αžšαŸ…αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αž“αŸ…αž†αŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ† αŸ’αŸ αŸ’αŸ αŸ” αž₯αž‘αžΌαžœαž“αŸαŸ‡αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž˜αžΆαž“αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαž•αŸ’αž‘αžΆαž›αŸ‹αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“ αž€αžΌαž“αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž€αžΆαžšαž„αžΆαžšαž–αŸαž‰αž˜αŸ‰αŸ„αž„αŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž˜αž·αž“αžŸαžΌαžœαž˜αžΆαž“αž±αž€αžΆαžŸαž‘αŸ…αž›αŸαž„ αž“αž·αž„αž“αž·αž™αžΆαž™αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αžͺαž–αž»αž€αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž‘αŸ αž›αžΎαž€αž›αŸ‚αž„αžαŸ‚αž€αžΆαžšαž αŸ…αž‘αžΌαžšαžŸαŸαž–αŸ’αž‘αžαŸ’αž›αžΈαŸ—αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαžŸαž½αžšαžŸαž»αžαž‘αž»αž€αŸ’αžαžαŸ‚αž”αŸ‰αž»αžŽαŸ’αžŽαŸ„αŸ‡αŸ”
αž–αžΈαž˜αž½αž™αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαž‘αŸ…αž˜αž½αž™αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒ αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžƒαžΎαž‰αžαžΆαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„αž“αžΉαž€αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžαŸ’αž›αžΆαŸ†αž„αžŽαžΆαžŸαŸ‹: αž€αŸ’αž›αž·αž“ αž“αž·αž„ αž•αŸ’αžŸαŸ‚αž„αž“αŸƒαž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αž”αžΆαž™ αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™ αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž”αžΆαž“αž”αž„αŸ’αžšαŸ€αž“αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž–αžΈαžšαž”αŸ€αž”αž…αž˜αŸ’αž’αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž αžΆαžšαž€αžΆαž›αž–αžΈαž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž˜αŸαž„ αž“αž·αž„ αžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αžͺαž–αž»αž€αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αž›αŸ’αž„αžΆαž… αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ—αž”αž“αŸ’αž‘αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž–αžΈαž…αŸαž‰αž–αžΈαžŸαžΆαž›αžΆαžšαŸ€αž“αŸ”
αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžš αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž€αžΆαžšαž…αž„αž…αžΆαŸ†αž˜αž·αž“αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžšαž‘αŸαŸ” αž™αžΎαž˜αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž…αž…αžΌαž›αž‘αŸ…αž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž› αž¬αžαŸ’αžšαž‘αž”αŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž›αžœαž·αž‰αž‘αŸ€αžαž αžΎαž™αŸ” αž™αžΎαž„αž’αžΆαž…αž˜αžΎαž›αžαŸ‚αžœαžαŸ’αžαž»αž…αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αŸ— αž‘αžΈαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„ αž“αž·αž„αžšαžΌαž”αž—αžΆαž–αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‡αž½αž™αž™αžΎαž„αžšαž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαž€αžΆαžšαž…αž„αž…αžΆαŸ†αž‘αžΆαŸ†αž„αž“αŸ„αŸ‡αž”αŸ‰αž»αžŽαŸ’αžŽαŸ„αŸ‡αŸ”

LAY, Chanveasna
"Rewriting Memories"

Time has flown by. I moved out in 2020. I now have my own family, a child, and a full-time job. I do not often get the chance to visit and speak with my parents, except for short phone calls to check in.
From day to day, I now find myself missing the sweetness of home: the scent and smokiness of the kitchen when my mother taught me how to cook as a child, and studying with my father on quiet evenings after school.
Time changes, but memory does not. We can no longer access the past or move back in time. We can only look at old objects, places, and pictures that help us hold those memories.

23/02/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops.
Stay tone for the next 4 more photos stories.

ថេត αž€αž»αž€αž˜αŸ‰αŸαž„
αž–αŸαž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž“αŸ…αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡
αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αžαŸ‚αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž―αž„αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž’αŸ†αž’αžΆαžαŸ‹αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž€αŸ’αžšαž»αž˜αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αŸ” αž˜αž»αž“αžαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αžΈαŸ‘αŸ  αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αž“αŸαŸ‡αž–αŸ„αžšαž–αŸαž‰αž‘αŸ…αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαž»αž—αž˜αž„αŸ’αž‚αž› αžŸαŸ†αž‘αŸαž„αž”αŸ’αžšαž…αžΆαŸ†αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒ αž€αžΆαžšαžŸαž“αŸ’αž‘αž“αžΆ αžŸαŸ†αžŽαžΎαž… αž“αž·αž„αž‘αž˜αŸ’αž›αžΆαž”αŸ‹αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž’αŸ’αžœαžΎαž±αŸ’αž™αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αž“αŸαŸ‡αž˜αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžšαžŸαŸ‹αžšαžœαžΎαž€αŸ” αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž”αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αž’αŸ’αžœαžΎαž€αžΆαžšαž“αŸ…αž—αŸ’αž“αŸ†αž–αŸαž‰ αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž”αžΆαž“αžŸαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αž“αŸαŸ‡αžŠαžΎαž˜αŸ’αž”αžΈαž”αž“αŸ’αžαž€αžΆαžšαžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαŸ” αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αžαžΆαŸ†αž„αž–αžΈαž–αŸαž›αž“αŸ„αŸ‡αž˜αž€ αžœαžΆαž”αžΆαž“αž€αŸ’αž›αžΆαž™αž‡αžΆαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžαŸ’αžšαž‘αž”αŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αžαŸ‚αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž―αž„αž‡αžΆαžšαŸ€αž„αžšαžΆαž›αŸ‹αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαŸ” αž€αžΆαžšαžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž‘αžΈαž“αŸαŸ‡αž”αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžšαžšαž”αŸ€αž”αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž‡αž½αž”αž”αŸ’αžšαž‘αŸ‡αž“αžΉαž„αž—αžΆαž–αž―αž€αžΆ αž€αžΆαžšαž—αŸαž™αžαŸ’αž›αžΆαž… αž“αž·αž„αžŠαŸ„αŸ‡αžŸαŸ’αžšαžΆαž™αž”αž‰αŸ’αž αžΆαžŠαŸ„αž™αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„αŸ”
αž–αŸαž›αž–αŸ’αžšαžΉαž€αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž•αŸ’αžαžΎαž˜αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαŸ’αž„αž”αŸ‹αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹ αžŠαŸ„αž™αž‚αŸ’αž˜αžΆαž“αžŸαŸ†αž‘αŸαž„αžšαŸ†αžαžΆαž“ αž¬αž’αžΆαž αžΆαžšαžšαž½αž˜αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆ αž αžΎαž™αžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαž€αŸαžŠαžΌαž…αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆαžŠαŸ‚αžš αž“αž·αž„αž–αŸαž›αž™αž”αŸ‹αž€αŸαžŠαžΌαž…αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆαžŠαŸ‚αžšαŸ” αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αž–αŸ’αžšαžΉαž€ αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž…αž˜αŸ’αž’αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž αžΆαžšαžŠαŸ„αž™αžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž―αž„ αž αžΎαž™αž‰αŸ‰αžΆαŸ†αžαŸ‚αž˜αŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž―αž„αŸ” αž–αŸαž›αž›αŸ’αž„αžΆαž…αž˜αž€αžŠαž›αŸ‹ αž αžΎαž™αž–αŸ’αžšαŸ‡αž’αžΆαž‘αž·αžαŸ’αž™αž›αž·αž… αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžŠαžΉαž„αžαžΆαžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž“αžΉαž„αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž•αŸ’αžαžΎαž˜αž˜αžΆαž“αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαžŸαŸ„αž€αžŸαŸ… αž“αž·αž„αž―αž€αŸ„αž˜αŸ’αžαž„αž‘αŸ€αžαŸ” αž–αŸαž›αž€αŸ’αžšαž‘αŸαž€αž˜αžΎαž›αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž’αŸ’αž›αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž‡αžΆαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αž‡αž½αž”αž‡αž»αŸ† αž”αž“αŸ’αž‘αž”αŸ‹αž“αžΆαž“αžΆαž₯αž‘αžΌαžœαž“αŸαŸ‡αž‘αž‘αŸ αž αžΎαž™αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αž™αž”αŸ‹αž˜αžΆαž“αž—αžΆαž–αžŸαŸ’αž„αŸ€αž˜αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹ αž“αž·αž„αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαž“αžΉαž€αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αŸ” αž™αžΌαžšαŸ—αž‘αŸ… αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžŸαŸŠαžΆαŸ†αž“αžΉαž„αž—αžΆαž–αžŸαŸ’αž„αŸ€αž˜αžŸαŸ’αž„αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ” αžœαžΆαž›αŸ‚αž„αž‡αžΆαž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž€αžαŸ‹αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž‚αžΆαž›αŸ‹αž‘αŸ€αžαž αžΎαž™ αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž…αž·αžαŸ’αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ† αž’αžΆαžšαž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŽαŸαž“αžΉαž€αžšαž›αžΉαž€αž“αŸ…αžαŸ‚αž˜αžΆαž“αŸ”
αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžŸαž„αŸ’αžƒαžΉαž˜αžαžΆαžαŸ’αž„αŸƒαžŽαžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž™αžΎαž„αž’αžΆαž…αžšαž€αžœαž·αž’αžΈαžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž‚αŸ’αž“αžΆαž˜αŸ’αžαž„αž‘αŸ€αžαŸ”

KOKMENG, Thet
"When I’m Home"
I live alone in the house where I grew up with my family. Before 10th grade, this house was full of happiness, everyday sounds, conversations, laughter, and routines that made this place feel alive. When my family moved to Phnom Penh to work, I stayed in this home to continue my studies. Since then, it has become a place that I return to alone every day. Living here has changed the way I experience loneliness, fear, and solve problems on my own.
Mornings start quietly, without noise or shared meals, and so does the day, and so does the night. In the morning, I cook my own food and eat alone. When the evening arrives and the sun goes down, I know I will start to feel sad and lonely again. Looking at the house that used to be a gathering place, the rooms are now empty, and at night there is silence and a sense of missing my family. Over time, I get used to the silence. It is no longer something I notice, but in my heart the nostalgia remains.
I hope that one day we can find a way to live together again.

17/02/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops.
Stay tone for the next 5 more photos story.

αž‚αž„αŸ‹ αžšαžŸαŸ’αž˜αžΈ
αž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸ…αžŸαŸαžŸαžŸαž›αŸ‹

αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž‡αŸ†αžšαŸ†αž‡αž“αž—αŸ€αžŸαžαŸ’αž›αž½αž“αž“αŸ…αž…αž»αž„αž€αžΆαž›αŸ‹ αžŸαŸ€αž˜αžšαžΆαž” αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž…αŸ†αžŽαŸ„αž˜αž”αŸ’αžšαž‡αžΆαž‡αž“αž…αŸ†αž“αž½αž“ 3,000 αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžš αž˜αžΆαž“αžαŸ‚αž”αŸ’αžšαž αŸ‚αž› 80 αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαž”αŸ‰αž»αžŽαŸ’αžŽαŸ„αŸ‡αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸ…αžŸαž›αŸ‹αŸ” αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαžΆαžšαžαŸ‚αžŸαž„αŸ’αž‚αŸ’αžšαžΆαž˜αžαŸ’αž˜αŸ‚αžš-αžαŸƒ αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαž‡αžΆαž…αŸ’αžšαžΎαž“αž”αžΆαž“αž”αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αž„αŸ‹αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž”αŸ‚αž„ αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž–αž½αž€αž‚αŸαžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αžŠαž»αžαž”αŸ†αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαž‰ αž¬αž˜αžΆαž“αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž”αŸ‚αž„ αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž˜αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž…αžαŸ’αžšαž‘αž”αŸ‹αž‘αŸ…αžœαž·αž‰αž”αžΆαž“αž‘αŸ αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαžΆαžšαžαŸ‚αž€αžΆαžšαž€αžΆαž“αŸ‹αž€αžΆαž”αŸ‹αžŠαžΈαž’αŸ’αž›αžΈαžŠαŸ„αž™αž€αž„αž‘αŸαž–αžαŸƒ αž™αž»αž‘αŸ’αž’αž—αžŽαŸ’αžŒαž˜αž·αž“αž‘αžΆαž“αŸ‹αž•αŸ’αž‘αž»αŸ‡ αž¬αž€αžαŸ’αžαžΆαž•αŸ’αžŸαŸαž„αŸ—αž‘αŸ€αžαŸ”
αž™αžΎαž„αž˜αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž…αž”αž‰αŸ’αžˆαž”αŸ‹αžšαžΏαž„αž’αžΆαž€αŸ’αžšαž€αŸ‹αž–αžΈαž€αžΆαžšαž€αžΎαžαž‘αžΎαž„αž”αžΆαž“αž‘αŸαŸ” αž™αžΎαž„αž˜αž·αž“αž’αžΆαž…αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžšαž’αžαžΈαžαž€αžΆαž›αž”αžΆαž“αž‘αŸ αž”αŸ‰αž»αž“αŸ’αžαŸ‚αž™αžΎαž„αž’αžΆαž…αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžšαž”αž…αŸ’αž…αž»αž”αŸ’αž”αž“αŸ’αž“αž€αžΆαž›αž”αžΆαž“αŸ” αž”αž…αŸ’αž…αž»αž”αŸ’αž”αž“αŸ’αž“αž€αžΆαž›αž‚αžΊαž‡αžΆαž’αŸ†αžŽαŸ„αž™αž˜αž½αž™αŸ” αž™αžΎαž„αž˜αžΆαž“αž±αž€αžΆαžŸαžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ…αž˜αŸ’αžαž„αž‘αŸ€αž αž”αž“αŸ’αžαžšαžŸαŸ‹αž“αŸ… αž•αŸ’αž›αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž”αŸ’αžαžΌαžšαž˜αŸ’αžαž„αž‘αŸ€αž αž“αž·αž„αž€αžŸαžΆαž„αž‡αžΈαžœαž·αžαžαŸ’αž˜αžΈ αž˜αž·αž“αžαžΆαž™αžΎαž„αž“αŸ…αž‘αžΈαžŽαžΆαž€αŸαžŠαŸ„αž™αŸ”
αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸ‡αžŠαŸαž€αž€αŸ‹αž€αŸ’αžαŸ…αž‚αžΊαž‡αžΆαž’αŸ’αžœαžΈαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž™αžΎαž„αž€αžŸαžΆαž„αž“αŸ…αž€αŸ’αž“αž»αž„αž…αž·αžαŸ’αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž™αžΎαž„αŸ”

KONG Raksmey
"What Still Remains"

In the displacement camp in Chongkal, Siem Reap, out of a population of 3,000 families, only about 80 families remain. Due to the Khmer–Thai war, many of them lost their homes, had their houses burned down, or have homes but could not go back due to land occupation by the Thai Army, unexploded ordinances, or various other factors.
We cannot stop bad things from happening. We cannot change the past, but we can change the present. The present is a gift. We have the opportunity to live again, continue living, change again, and build a new life no matter where we are.
A warm home is what we build in our hearts.

Send a message to learn more

14/02/2026

We would like to present a series of slideshow from our participants from "When I am gone" workshop in collaboration with Angkor Photo Festival & Workshops.
Stay tone for the next 6 more photos story.

"αžŸαžΆαž›αžΆαž”αž‹αž˜αžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆ ៨្" αžŠαŸ„αž™ αžŒαžΈαž“ ឌិម

αžšαžΏαž„αž“αŸαŸ‡αžαžΆαž˜αžŠαžΆαž“αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžαžΆαž˜αžšαž™αŸˆαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž€αžΆαžšαž’αž”αŸ‹αžšαŸ†αžαžΆαŸ†αž„αž€αž»αž˜αžΆαžšαž—αžΆαž–αžŠαŸ†αž”αžΌαž„αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž•αŸ’αžαžΎαž˜αŸ” αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“αžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαž“αŸ…αžŸαžΆαž›αžΆαž“αŸαŸ‡αž…αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž–αžΈαžαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αžΈαž˜αž½αž™αžšαž αžΌαžαžŠαž›αŸ‹αžαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αžΈαž”αžΈ αž˜αž»αž“αž–αŸαž›αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αž‰αŸ’αžˆαž”αŸ‹αž€αžΆαžšαžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αžŠαŸ„αž™αžŸαžΆαžšαžαŸ‚αžŸαŸ’αžαžΆαž“αž—αžΆαž–αž αž·αžšαž‰αŸ’αž‰αžœαžαŸ’αžαž»αž‚αŸ’αžšαž½αžŸαžΆαžšαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ” αž€αŸ’αžšαŸ„αž™αŸ—αž˜αž€ αžŸαžΆαž›αžΆαž“αŸαŸ‡
αžαŸ’αžšαžΌαžœαž”αžΆαž“αžŸαžΆαž„αžŸαž„αŸ‹αž‘αžΎαž„αžœαž·αž‰ αžŠαŸ„αž™αž”αž“αŸ’αžŸαž›αŸ‹αž‘αž»αž€αžαŸ‚αž’αž‚αžΆαžšαž…αžΆαžŸαŸ‹αž˜αž½αž™αž“αŸαŸ‡αž”αŸ‰αž»αžŽαŸ’αžŽαŸ„αŸ‡αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸ…αžαŸ‚αž…αž„αž…αžΆαŸ†αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ”
αžαžŽαŸˆαž–αŸαž›αžŠαŸ‚αž›αžαŸ’αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αžšαŸ€αž“αž‘αž‘αŸ αž•αŸ’αž‘αŸƒαžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‘αŸ’αžšαž»αžŒαž‘αŸ’αžšαŸ„αž˜ αž“αž·αž„αžŸαŸ’αžαžΆαž”αžαŸ’αž™αž€αž˜αŸ’αž˜αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž“αŸ…αžŸαŸαžŸαžŸαž›αŸ‹αž†αŸ’αž›αž»αŸ‡αž”αž‰αŸ’αž…αžΆαŸ†αž„αž–αžΈαž’αŸ’αžœαžΈ αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž”αžΆαž“αž”αž“αŸ’αžŸαž›αŸ‹αž‘αž»αž€αž“αŸ…αž–αŸαž›αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž–αŸαž›αžœαŸαž›αžΆαž€αž“αŸ’αž›αž„αž•αž»αžαž‘αŸ…αŸ”
αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αž€αŸαž…αž„αŸ‹αž˜αžΎαž›αžƒαžΎαž‰αž–αžΈαž€αž»αž˜αžΆαžšαž—αžΆαž–αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž˜αŸ’αžαžΆαž™αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžšαž½αž˜αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™ αž‘αŸ†αž“αžΆαž€αŸ‹αž‘αŸ†αž“αž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“αž…αŸ‚αž€αžšαŸ†αž›αŸ‚αž€αž‡αžΆαž˜αž½αž™αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αŸ‚αž„αž“αŸαŸ‡ αž“αž·αž„αž˜αž·αžαŸ’αžαž—αž€αŸ’αžαž·αžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž˜αž»αž“αž–αŸαž›αž”αž‰αŸ’αžˆαž”αŸ‹αž€αžΆαžšαžŸαž·αž€αŸ’αžŸαžΆαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αŸ”
αž‡αžΆαž„ ៀ០ αž†αŸ’αž“αžΆαŸ†αž”αžΆαž“αž€αž“αŸ’αž›αž„αž•αž»αžαž‘αŸ… αž“αŸαŸ‡αž‡αžΆαž›αžΎαž€αžŠαŸ†αž”αžΌαž„αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“αžαŸ’αžšαž›αž”αŸ‹αž˜αž€αž›αŸαž„αžŸαžΆαž›αžΆαžœαž·αž‰αŸ” αžαŸ’αž‰αž»αŸ†αžŸαž˜αŸ’αž›αžΉαž„αž˜αžΎαž›αž˜αž»αžαžšαž”αžŸαŸ‹αž‚αžΆαžαŸ‹αž–αŸ„αž–αŸαž‰αž‘αŸ…αžŠαŸ„αž™αž’αž“αž»αžŸαŸ’αžŸαžΆαžœαžšαžΈαž™αŸαž“αž·αž„αž€αžΆαžšαž…αž„αŸ‹αž”αžΆαž“ αž“αž·αž„αžŸαž˜αŸ’αžšαžΆαž”αŸ‹αžŠαžΆαž“αž“αŸƒαž€αž»αž˜αžΆαžšαž—αžΆαž– αžŠαŸ‚αž›αž”αžΆαž“αž”αž‰αŸ’αž…αž”αŸ‹αž†αžΆαž”αŸ‹αž–αŸαž€αŸ”

"Primary School 82" by DEN Dim

This story follows my mother through the place where her early childhood education began. She studied at this school from first grade until third grade before having to stop her education due to her family’s financial situation.
Over time, the school has been rebuilt, leaving only one old building that still carries her memory. While the empty classrooms, worn surfaces, and remaining architecture reflect what is left behind as time passes.
I also want to see into my mother’s childhood, the connection she shared with this space and her friends before stopping her studies.
More than 40 years have passed, and this is the first time she has returned to visit the school. I look to her face for nostalgia and longing, and for traces of a childhood that ended too soon.

11/02/2026

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