Just a bit farther north are a few temples that embody Bangkok’s Hindu and Buddhist past and present. It is here where the biennale blends in most respectfully and gracefully. Most notably is the Thai artist Nino Sarabutra’s “What Will We Leave Behind,” more than 125,000 tea bag-size porcelain skulls that line the walkways of the Wat Prayurawongsawas temple. They massage the feet as you comb the temple. They glisten. They break. Life underfoot.

Next door at Wat Arun, or the Temple of Dawn, the touristy Buddhist temple that was restored in 2017 with the finest of detail, several artists have immersed their pieces gently into this vast complex of radiant tiles and selfie-obsessed tourists. And at Wat Po, the reclining Buddha temple across the river, the artist Huang Yong Ping has installed “Zuo You He Che,” a pair of massive legs topped with animal heads carrying scriptures in their mouths. The pieces meld seamlessly into their surroundings to the point that hundreds, if not thousands of tourists, pass by daily, never aware of the modern art infusion.

One of the Bangkok Biennale’s final acts is the performance artist Kawita Vatanajyankur’s “Knit,” a critique on how women are exploited in the work force. She weaves her body in and out of a loom of red yarn around 12 white poles in an oval shape, becoming knotted and contorted. This performance is not being performed in a museum or abandoned warehouse but in the soaring lobby of the posh Peninsula Hotel during afternoon tea — a new spin on how Bangkok’s engine of tourism and its women converge again.

But a more potent depiction of this idea is on display at the Bangkok Arts and Culture Center, and it, like a few other pieces, has pushed the limits of censorship in Thailand. Chumpon Apisuk’s video installation “I Have Dreams,” shows sex workers from Chiang Mai directly addressing the viewer, giving a rare voice to the hundreds of thousands of women and men who the country — and its often careless tourists — mostly ignore.

“I have a dream, to build a new house for my family,” one woman says. “Then I can open a small grocery shop.” It’s a simple and earnest aspiration, heartbreaking and heartfelt. Yet it roars from a small video room in a corner of an arts center. Bangkok’s biennale has set the stage for its return in 2020 with the simplest of words and yet the most profound statement of how art can define a city — and redefine what it means to be racy and taboo in Bangkok.