2024

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, wood.

Some Body to Love is part of a series I am developing that aims to create matriarchal power objects imbued with an otherworldly aura.

The work explores Vietnamese womanhood in the U.S., examining how Western biases, shaped by war, affect the identities of Vietnamese women. Some Body to Love incorporates Vietnam War iconography, anthropomorphizing a Ka-Bar knife—used by American soldiers—with the image of a Vietnamese woman. The blade, redesigned at a much larger scale, emerges from between her legs. Through this work, I reclaim this historical symbol to create an object that is uncanny, dreamy, and surreal. At its core, the artwork confronts the harsh realities of sexual violence in the context of war while serving as a testament to the strength and resilience of women.

The title Some Body to Love is a play on Somebody to Love, the hit song by the 1960s American psychedelic rock band Jefferson Airplane, which helped popularize and commercialize the hippie movement in America.

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2024

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, 24K gold paint.

Apocalypse Nail, part of a series titled Ornamentalism focusing on the Vietnamese nail industry, marks the beginning of a new series in development that broadly explores Vietnamese womanhood in the U.S. This work examines how migration from the Global South to the Global North, interwoven with Western cultural biases and shaped by the enduring effects of war, influences both individual and collective identity.

In Apocalypse Nail, I merge Vietnam War iconography—the AK-47, a rifle associated with Vietnamese soldiers—with the female form and symbols from the nail industry. By juxtaposing historical and contemporary representations of Vietnamese women in the U.S., the piece emphasizes the complex layers of identity shaped by both past and present.

From the interplay of fantasies and nightmares, Apocalypse Nail emerges as a new form: a matriarchal power object that challenges conventional narratives and reclaims agency.

Photo by Mia.

2023–2024

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, acrylic, resin, wooden stand.

In the rich tapestry of Vietnamese culture, a diversity of divine figures exists within the cultural landscape, each deity dedicated to safeguarding a specific aspect of life. These spiritual custodians are deeply woven into the fabric of daily existence, guiding and protecting various realms within the human world. A quintessential example is the veneration given to the Kitchen God and Goddess, who are believed to watch over the heart of the home.

Drawing inspiration from this deep-rooted spiritual heritage, I am creating a sculpture titled Blessed Lady of the Nail as part of a series called Ornamentalism. This work pays homage to the protective deities of Vietnamese tradition, reimagined to celebrate Vietnamese female nail technicians. Borrowing from the surrealist technique of collage, I merge elements from Eastern and Western spiritual traditions to form a divine figure for those in the nail industry.

In this work, the nail transcends its ordinary significance, emerging as a powerful symbol that reclaims stereotypes as badges of resilience and empowerment. Blessed Lady of the Nail strives to unlock fantastical and poetic resonances, presenting a new type of matriarchal power icon.

Photo by Mia.

2023

Single-channel. High-definition video (color, sound), 36:55 min.

Nail Women is a long-form moving image project that delves into the experiences of Vietnamese female nail technicians in Chicago. The project compiles a series of interviews exploring concepts of selfhood and cultural identity within a distinct segment of the Vietnamese diaspora.

Since 2023, I have been interviewing technicians in various Chicago salons, capturing the dynamic atmospheres of their workplaces. Aligned with the tradition of American Social Realism—a movement focused on capturing the realities of working-class life, often advocating for social change—and inspired by Julia Reichert's approach to social documentary filmmaking, I give the Vietnamese female nail technicians the space to speak for themselves, offering a powerful perspective rarely seen. This approach provides a strong platform for personal narratives that illuminate broader social issues, enabling the subjects' voices to emerge through intimate, interview-based storytelling.

The question, "Who is a Vietnamese woman?" serves as the video's central inquiry, delving into the complexities of Vietnamese identity shaped by the enduring impact of the Vietnam War. It examines the tension between those living in Vietnam and those who have migrated or were born in America, highlighting the interplay of historical legacies, social systems, and wealth disparities.

The question “Who is a Vietnamese woman?” extends beyond Vietnamese identity, delving into layers of American society where Asian women often confront specific stereotypes. The perspective of Vietnamese women in the Nail Women video provides insight into their psychology, exploring whether stereotypical notions of Asian femininity may influence how they perceive themselves. The personal viewpoints of Vietnamese nail technicians living in the U.S. regarding Vietnamese femaleness offer a glimpse into the roots of bias, prompting the question of how bias becomes entrenched—whether as something imposed upon a group or individual, something self-imposed, or both.

Contemplating one's existence and the interconnected facets of selfhood, culture, and society, the Nail Women video delves into profound layers. It surpasses a mere exploration of individuals, venturing into the intricate realms of cultural and social identity. It prompts questions about the impact of culture and society on self-understanding of identity—examining how deeply these influences shape beliefs and consciousness, intricately weaving into an individual's awareness and manifesting as personal beliefs.

Installation view at A Village Before Us (2023), John David Mooney Foundation, Chicago, U.S.

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2023

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, acrylic, resin.

The work Invisible Dragon, from a series titled Ornamentalism, challenges stereotypes against Asian women in America, particularly the “dragon lady” archetype. This work critiques the historical portrayal of Asian women as manipulative and exotic through a Euro-American lens, which has fueled discrimination in both personal and professional spheres.

The artwork features hands posed in Eastern religious gestures, adorned with strikingly long pink nails, symbolizing the dual visibility and invisibility of "pink labor" within the Vietnamese-American nail salon industry. The work incorporates unexpected combinations of objects and the human form, installed on the wall to cast specific elongated shadows that challenge conventional logic, unlocking dreamlike, fantastical, and poetic resonances. Through Invisible Dragon, I aim to present new objects embodying matriarchal power.

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2022–2023

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, acrylic nails.

The concept of the Model Minority myth is closely examined in the work Minority Model, which is part of a series titled Ornamentalism. Emerging notably during the civil rights movement in the mid-20th century, the model minority stereotype in the U.S. portrays Asians as a monolithic group, often depicting Asian women as passive, obedient, and lacking assertiveness.

In the artwork Minority Model, thousands of acrylic nail protuberances are arranged to form a monolithic shape, initially presenting an impression of uniformity. However, upon closer inspection, the uniqueness of each nail becomes apparent. By employing the acrylic nail as a symbol for Vietnamese female nail technicians, the artwork critiques the homogenization of Asian identities and the portrayal of Asian women as submissive. It invites viewers to challenge oversimplified notions and to acknowledge the multifaceted strength and individuality of Asian women, encouraging a critical reflection on the accuracy of stereotypes.

Installation view, A Village Before Us (2023), John David Mooney Foundation, Chicago, U.S.

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2022–2024

From 2022 to 2024, I developed a comprehensive body of work titled Ornamentalism, centering on Vietnamese female nail technicians in America. In the U.S., the job of nail technician is predominantly held by Vietnamese women, serving not only as a highly sought-after position for Vietnamese immigrants but also as an iconic representation of Vietnamese women in America. Ornamentalism employs the nail salon industry as a lens to critically examine and challenge societal perceptions and ingrained biases.

Through sculpture, installation, drawing and moving images, each artwork in the series addresses different facets of the Asian female experience in America, connecting personal stories of nail technicians to broader socio-economic contexts and revealing the complex effects of living with pervasive biases. At the same time, the work honors these technicians' resilience, self-determination, and personal power, emphasizing their often-overlooked labor.

Ornamentalism sparks essential questions:

Do societal and cultural forces play a part in embedding bias within individuals, leading to preconceived notions about others, devoid of any previous interaction or experience?

How does systemic cultural bias influence individual identity when society pigeonholes an individual into a specific group, subjecting them to related biases, regardless of their self-identification?

Could cultural bias give rise to a cyclical feedback system, where it initially surfaces through stereotypes, is internalized by those targeted, and then re-emphasized as traits of their identities, reinforcing original societal beliefs?

Can unchecked systemic cultural bias inevitably progress to beliefs of cultural superiority, where one's culture is deemed superior to others?

Is it possible for individuals to liberate themselves completely from the pervasive influence of systemic cultural bias, and if so, how can this be achieved?

Installation view, A Village Before Us (2023), John David Mooney Foundation, Chicago, U.S. Left to right: Nail Women, Blessed Lady of the Nail, Minority Model, Invisible Dragon

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

from Five Questions series (2019–ongoing).

2021

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statues, washing machine, metal kitchen sink, metal faucet, wooden lacquer tables, wooden lacquer bed, polypropylene tube.

The installation The Gods of Expectation is an amalgamation of matriarchal icons from the ancient Vietnamese Mother Goddesses folk religion and symbols of domestic duty. It comprises three sculptures—Divine Cycle, Divine Constant, and Divine Source— connected to each other by an umbilical cord, along with five questions painted on the wall: Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman? Viewers are invited to interact by placing responses inside the washing machine, sink, or on the bed.

This work examines societal expectations imposed on women, particularly regarding domestic duties and childbearing, by questioning why these responsibilities are perceived as inherent "expectations." Fundamentally, by interweaving symbols of female power with symbols of female duty, I aim to create matriarchal monumental objects that disrupt and reimagine our collective understanding of femininity through a surreal lens of divine transformation.

Installation view, Within / Between / Beneath / Upon (2021), The Factory Contemporary Arts Center, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

Photo by Tri Nguyen.

2021

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statue, washing machine, wooden lacquer table, polypropylene tube.

Divine Cycle is a sculpture from the installation The Gods of Expectation. Inspired by the totem pole traditions of Indigenous peoples from the Pacific Northwest of North America, this work features a Goddess from the Vietnamese Mother Goddess folk religion stacked on top of a washing machine, which is in turn stacked on a traditional lacquer table.

Viewers are invited to interact by responding to five questions—Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman?—and placing their responses inside the washing machine.

This work delves into societal expectations imposed on women, particularly focusing on domestic duties. It questions why these responsibilities are perceived as inherent "expectations" imposed on women. By interweaving symbols of female power with symbols of female duty, I aim to create matriarchal monumental objects that disrupt and reimagine our collective understanding of femininity through a surreal lens of divine transformation.

Installation view, Within / Between / Beneath / Upon (2021), The Factory Contemporary Arts Center, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

Photo by Tri Nguyen.

2021

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statue, wooden lacquer table, metal kitchen sink, metal faucet, polypropylene tube.

Divine Constant is a sculpture from the installation The Gods of Expectation. In this work, I transform a traditionally carved lacquer altar table by integrating a metal sink and faucet into its surface. Atop the table sits a Goddess from the Vietnamese Mother Goddesses folk religion.

Viewers are invited to engage by placing their responses to five questions—Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman?—inside the kitchen sink.

This work examines societal expectations placed on women, particularly surrounding domestic duties, and challenges why these roles are seen as inherent "expectations." By merging symbols of female power with those of female duty, I aim to create monumental matriarchal objects that disrupt and reimagine femininity through a surreal lens of divine transformation.

Installation view, Within / Between / Beneath / Upon (2021), The Factory Contemporary Arts Center, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

Photo by Tri Nguyen.

2021

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statue, wooden lacquer bed, polypropylene tube.

Divine Source is a sculpture from the installation The Gods of Expectation. In this work, I transform a traditionally carved lacquer platform into a single-sized bed. Reclining atop the bed is a Goddess inspired by a deity from the Vietnamese Mother Goddesses folk religion. Unlike the traditional seated pose of such statues, the Goddess is depicted in a reclining position, a posture typically reserved for male Buddhas.

Viewers are invited to engage by placing their responses to five questions—Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman?—on the bed.

This piece explores societal expectations placed on women, particularly regarding childbearing and care work, and questions why these roles are viewed as inherent "expectations." By blending symbols of female power with those of female duty, I aim to create monumental matriarchal objects that challenge and reimagine femininity through a surreal lens of divine transformation.

Installation view, Within / Between / Beneath / Upon (2021), The Factory Contemporary Arts Center, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

Photo by Tri Nguyen.

from the Five Questions series (2019–ongoing).

2020

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, cotton mop with wooden handle, metal bucket, gouache.

In 2020, I was the first Vietnamese artist to win the Pacific Leipzig Residency Program. As the winner, I lived and worked for 3 months in Leipzig, Germany, at a place called “Spinnerei”. This place used to be a giant factory that employed thousands of men and women workers throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. Inspired by the place that was once the largest factory in mainland Europe, I wanted to do work on the subject of female labor.

As a symbol of female labor, I selected a mop and a bucket—objects universally recognized for cleaning. Throughout history, women in the workforce have consistently been compensated at a fraction of what men earn, irrespective of a country's economic status. For instance, studies show that the gender pay gap in the United States has remained relatively stable over the last two decades, with women earning 80% of men's income in 2002 and only 83% in 2022. Globally, women shoulder a disproportionately high amount of unpaid work daily, particularly in domestic labor. This unpaid labor, often regarded as one of the lowest forms of labor, underscores the existence of an invisible workforce—female laborers who perform low-paid or unpaid tasks for societies that undervalue their contributions.

Accompanying the mop and bucket are five questions I painted on a large scale in the German language: Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman? Viewers are invited to engage with the work by answering one or all five questions and placing their responses into the bucket.

The Invisibility of Female Labour seeks to recognize and acknowledge women’s labor. By bringing women’s work out of the shadows and challenging stereotypical gender roles that relegate women to the least valued positions in society, the work calls for acknowledgment and respect for the myriad contributions of working women.

At its core, the project delves into the fundamental question: How can we make the invisible visible?

Installation view, The Invisibility of Female Labor (2020), LIA, The Spinnerei, Leipzig, Germany

Photo by WaltherLeKon.

from the Five Questions series (2019–ongoing).

2019

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, polystyrene, acrylic.

The States of Mind installation, exhibited at the Myorakuji temple—a historic Buddhist site in Fukuoka City, Japan—features a female figure in five distinct poses. Inspired by ancient female icons from various cultures, such as the Venus of Willendorf, this artwork reflects my fascination with bringing matriarchal histories and symbols into contemporary discourse.

Each statue represents an emotional state—triumph, relaxation, acceptance, resilience, and weariness—offering viewers a space to connect through shared emotions and experiences. The work seeks to explore a universal human emotional spectrum, transcending personal backgrounds and cultural boundaries.

Viewers are invited to participate by responding to five questions—Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman?—and attaching their answers to the figures. In this way, the work becomes a vessel for collective thoughts and reflections on the concept of Woman, with these responses forming an integral part of the artwork.

Twice a year, temples in Fukuoka open their doors to the public at night, granting rare access to spaces that are typically closed. This unique event attracts thousands of visitors to Myorakuji Temple, offering an opportunity for cultural and spiritual engagement. It was during this special occasion that The States of Mind installation was displayed at the temple. Many visitors interacted with the work, responding to the five questions, and attach their answers to the figures.

The last three pictures show that the interactive aspect was continued three years later at the exhibition held at the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum in 2021, where the sculptures continued to engage with the public, collecting responses from viewers.

Installation view, The States of Mind (2019), Myorakuji Temple, Fukuoka, Japan

Installation view, Making & Experiencing Asian Cultures (2021), Fukuoka Asian Art Museum, Fukuoka, Japan

2018–2019

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statues, wooden lacquer tables, gold leaf.

Divine Feminine is a site-specific installation created for the Sculpture Expanded Moving Laboratory of Public Art in Helsinki, Finland. This project, part of one of the largest citywide sculpture exhibitions, spanned six months and featured works displayed across public spaces. Given the outdoor exhibition setting and its extended duration, I wanted to create an artwork that could respond to and be influenced by the ever-changing elements.

The inspiration for Divine Feminine stemmed from traditional Vietnamese female religious iconography, specifically drawing from the imagery of three goddesses in the Đạo Mẫu folk religion, reflecting matriarchal histories and traditional craftsmanship. To make this work, I went to Sơn Đồng village in the North of Vietnam, where artisans specialize in creating lacquer statues using traditional techniques passed down through generations. I collaborated with local craftspeople to carve three goddesses using this traditional Northern method. The three wooden statues were then lacquered with gold leaf and finally covered with circles of Dó paper.

The installation was displayed in various locations across Helsinki, including public parks and the city’s port. Over the six-month period, natural weathering transformed the statues, gradually revealing the gold beneath the paper surface.

Divine Feminine explores Vietnamese matriarchal imagery and traditional craftsmanship while reflecting my intention to resurrect matriarchal histories and symbols of Vietnamese culture on a global stage. The work celebrates the inherent strength, power, and sensibility of women. Furthermore, it invites contemplation on the concept of “foreignness,” examining how Vietnamese cultural symbols adapt, endure, and transform when placed in unfamiliar contexts, such as Helsinki or unconventional settings like the city’s port.

Exhibition date in 2019:

17.5 – 30.6.2019 Redi, Helsinki
1.7 – 15.8.2019 Ravintola Töölönranta, Helsinki
15.8 – 15.9.2019 Allas Sea Pool, Helsinki

Exhibition date in 2020:

10.6 – 6.9.2020 Veteran’s Park, Espoo Keskus

2017

(Worms Revisited)

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, lacquer, hand-braided jute rope, dry powder pigment, cement.

The installation Biological Being contains a large female sculpture. The form is inspired by the ancient sculpture of Venus of Willendorf and the Pre-Columbian terra-cotta Nayarit style known as Chinesco. In these forms, I am looking for iconic physical silhouettes of a woman.

The woman statue holds a substantial rope resembling braided hair. This expansive rope unfolds into a massive net, entwining numerous strands of braided and non-braided hair alongside peculiar objects. These enigmatic objects, clutched by the statue, amalgamate into a formidable, unsettling entity emerging from her body, burdening her. It manifests as a monstrous weight, a load she tenaciously bears, determined not to release.

This work delves into one specific burden of being female, often defined biologically through the capacity to bear children. Women face societal pressures, constantly subjected to questions and comments, and are pressured to justify their choice not to have children.

Installation view, bugs, birds…equations of the future (2017), MoT+++, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

Photo by Nguyen Hoang Oanh.

2016

(Balls Revisited)

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer table, glass jar, dry powder pigment.

The installation The Production of Man includes a black lacquer table in the style of a Northern altar with a large jar on top overflowing with balls. An altar like this would exist in a typical home and is a place to put an incense holder, which Vietnamese believe houses the souls of their ancestors. On top of the table rests a large glass jar traditionally used for infusing rice liquor with traditional herbs, a practice widely embraced by older Vietnamese men due to its perceived benefits for men's sexual health. There are more than 20 thousand hand-sculpted balls that overfill the glass jar onto the floor.

On the wall across from the table, I hand-painted a large sentence in the propaganda style. It reads NHIỆM VỤ LỚN NHẤT CỦA PHỤ NỮ LÀ SINH RA MỘT ĐỨA CON TRAI. This translates to something like: “Woman’s greatest duty is to produce a son”.

This sentence came from Confucianism. In Confucianism, the life of a woman is controlled by three people: her father, her husband, and her son. Embedded in Vietnamese culture as an idiom, it dictates that at home, a woman obeys her father; once married, she obeys her husband, and in widowhood, she obeys her son. “Tại gia tòng phụ, xuất giá tòng phu, phu tử tòng tử”. Girls were raised to obey, serve, and take care of the man. For centuries, Confucianism has left an indelible mark on the Vietnamese cultural landscape. While the younger generation today experiences a diminishing influence of Confucianism, its impact remains ingrained in the collective consciousness.

While the artwork The Production of Man centers on the female experience in Vietnam, it serves as an insightful critique of entrenched traditional gender roles and their interconnectedness with power structures and societal hierarchies within my culture.

Installation view, Hạt | Tim (2016), Dia Projects, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

2014

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, lacquer platform, chrome, white curtains, wooden frames, fiberglass, lights, photograph.

Installation The Room is a collaboration between my husband, Gregory Jewett, and me, installed in a designated gallery space within our home.

The room features a prominent white partition wall, dividing it into two sections. Upon entering the exhibition, viewers first encounter Gregory's side, where a luminous fiberglass bear stands, facing the partition and positioned atop an abstract black and white photograph. Within the wall directly behind the bear, a chrome sign with the illuminated word Tilt is installed.

On the opposite side of the partition, a large square black lacquer platform takes center stage, situated in the middle of the space. Atop this platform rests a chrome "bed," on which lie two small sculptural objects crafted from Dó paper and pigment, showcasing organic shapes. Adjacent to the platform, two white curtains are suspended within white wooden frames. Concealed behind the curtains are two round lights attached to the wall, with one slightly smaller than the other.

During the public opening, we closed off the exhibition area with a rope partition, intentionally limiting access to prevent viewers from entering the space and experiencing the work up close.

The Room serves as a recreation and interpretation of a shared memory between Gregory and me. Each side of the room encapsulates our individual perspectives within this shared memory, presenting a complex, mysterious space—a dreamlike aberration frozen in time. The Room stands as an expression of two distinct viewpoints converging on a shared moment that was simultaneously isolating and unifying, an experience that we never fully shared yet will perpetually hold in common.

Installation view, The Room (2014), ATIQ Saigon, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam

2004. Revisited 2017

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, dry powder pigment.

In 2004, I started working on a piece called Home. At that time, I had spent two and a half years in the USA, where I earned my Bachelor's Degree in Fine Art. Despite establishing a home for myself in a foreign country, I decided to return to Vietnam instead of staying and working in the U.S. Now, I confronted the inevitability of leaving everything behind. It became clear to me that I couldn't bring the majority of my belongings back to Vietnam. It was at this time I started working on an artwork.

Using Dó paper, I began casting various objects from around my apartment, ranging from my television, table, and chairs to pots, bowls, chopsticks, paintbrushes, tubes of paint, handbags, cosmetics, cellphone, books, shoes, and more. Over the next six months, I cast hundreds of objects, each exposed to the elements in an empty yard next to my apartment—subjected to rain and buried in snow during the fall and early winter. This transformative process turned these objects, once my possessions, into something new, resembling ancient artifacts discovered in an archaeological dig. Before returning to Vietnam I exhibited them as a farewell to my life in America.

In 2O17, thirteen years later, in 2017, for the Taiwan Annual Exhibition, I revisited Home. The passage of time had rendered many of the objects unrecognizable, transforming them into mysteries that were once familiar to me. To accompany the exhibition, I created a map reflecting the growing disconnect between myself and the objects. While part of me held onto memories, attempting to recall the details, another part slowly accepted the fading of those memories.

Installation view, Limbo (2004), Warsaw Project Space, Cincinnati, U.S.

Installation view, Home | Land (2017), Taiwan Annual 2nd, Taipei, Taiwan

2012

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper.

In 2002, my Dad passed away, leaving an immense void in my heart that, for many years, I tried my best to ignore. As the 10th anniversary of his passing approached, I decided to make an artwork dedicated to my father. I hoped that action would enable me to confront his absence and eventually find peace in his passing.

I started with an object I felt represented my Dad. It took me three years to settle on something that I felt truly represented him. Ultimately, I chose a dictionary. Although my father, who worked for many years at The Institute of Hán-Nôm Studies, was hesitant to label himself a linguist, he exhibited a profound passion for languages throughout his life. Hán-Nôm, an extinct Sino-Vietnamese language, was his area of expertise, a language that only a handful in Vietnam can still decipher. His love for languages extended to a vast collection of books, particularly those centered around language. Due to his passion for languages, our home was filled with large-scale bilingual dictionaries, a constant reminder of him.

For the artwork Dictionaries, I decided to sculpt 1000 objects in the form of dictionaries. I chose this very large number because I believed an intense amount of labor would be necessary. The concentrated, repetitive labor established a meditative mindset, that allowed the complex feelings surrounding my father's passing to peacefully emerge.

The basic function of a dictionary is to contain data. Unlike other literary works, it is not meant to be consumed in its entirety, having no narrative to follow or story to be told. Instead, it functions as a tool, containing organized information to be accessed when needed. The artwork Dictionaries functions similarly for me. It contains the mass of my memories related to my Dad which, in their entirety remain unknowable to me. Those memories are stored away, compartmentalized. The making of Dictionaries provided an avenue to externalize a myriad of memories and emotions, extracting them from my mind and encapsulating them within the pages of the artwork.

Together with the installation Dictionaries, I made a book CÒN LẠI | RỜI RẠC as a companion piece. The book has 18 individual cards. Each card has 2 sides. 

One side contains images of my dad's belongings or pictures of us. The other side contains my writing of my memories of my dad. During the time of creating this book, I didn’t seek other people's memories. I want it to be my memories only, even if it is misshapen because of time, but it is purely mine.

CÒN LẠI | RỜI RẠC is part of the Joan Flasch Artist’s Book Collection, which is one of the School of the Art Institute of Chicago's special collections, and the Asian Art Archive in America.

Installation view, Bố Hạo (2012), Vietnam Nation Fine Arts Museum, Hanoi, Vietnam

2009

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, traditional Korean bean powder.

I was born in Hanoi, and at the age of 6, I relocated to Saigon. This transition significantly influenced my childhood because the North and the South of Vietnam at that time, and still a very different place. They are almost like 2 different countries.

In my early 20s, I undertook another significant move, this time from Saigon to Cincinnati. Once again, the impact was extensive, shaping my early adult life. These drastic relocations left me with a sense of not entirely belonging to any one place. While I was in Vietnam I didn’t feel like I could fit into the society but then, while I’m in the US, I don’t feel entirely belong there either. I have continued to make this type of extensive moves throughout the years.

I created this work Birds while I was in Brooklyn New York, feeling like a migration bird carrying a sense of belonging and non-belonging. In this work, I hand-sculpted more than seven hundred objects based on the form of a small bird. Hand sculpted from paper pulp in my small apartment in Brooklyn.

In 2009, for the Incheon Women Artist Biennale, I installed the sculptures in concentric circles, resembling a Mandala. The flock of birds faced outward, forming a geometric unity.

Dimensions: 3m diameter

Installation view, So Close Yet So Far Away (2009), The Incheon Women Artists’ Biennale, Incheon, South Korea.

2010

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper.

I molded my own body with Dó paper and placed it outdoors amidst the grass and trees, exposing it to various natural elements such as sun and rain. Over 60 days, I observed the transformation of the cast body as it changed, even experiencing a moment when a dog carried away my face to an unknown location. Ultimately, my body disintegrated completely into the earth.

The body and mind undergo perpetual change—subjected to growth and decline, construction, and deconstruction. Upon death, our bodies return to the earth, reverting to their fundamental building blocks like dirt, water, and air, sustaining other forms of life. This continual state of flux defines impermanence for me. My artwork, an extension of myself and an embodiment of an idea exists in the material world and is inherently impermanent. Crafted from delicate materials sourced from nature, my works naturally transform, eventually reverting to their elemental forms, along with the essence of myself contained within.

Installation view, Vermont Studio Center, Vermont, U.S.

2011

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statues.

The installation Statues was installed on the 4th floor of Park Armory Avenue in New York City. Constructed in 1880, the Park Armory served as the headquarters and administrative hub for the 7th New York Militia Regiment, an infantry regiment in the Union Army during the American Civil War. Since 2006, the building has been repurposed as a venue for performances and exhibitions.

The artwork Statues showcased a collection of wooden statues, each enveloped in Dó paper, providing them with a uniform color and covering reminiscent of army uniforms. Following the exhibition, I left the work at the Armory for anyone interested, thus disbanding the group. In this manner, the work exists in two forms: initially as a cohesive group and subsequently as scattered individuals.

Installation view, Watusi Regime (2011), Park Armory Avenue, New York, U.S.

2007

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dópaper, lacquer, hand braided nylon rope.

Installation view, Lê Hiền Minh (2007), Viet Art Center, Hanoi University of Fine Arts, Hanoi, Vietnam

2005–2006

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, hand braided jute rope.

The artwork Clouds was created in Hanoi in 2005, initially inspired by the desert clouds of the American Southwest. Over two years, I slowly developed this piece, and its shape, color, and texture underwent significant transformations due to the exceptionally high humidity in Hanoi. Throughout this period, mold would emerge, spreading within the work. In response, I would consistently apply a diluted bleach solution to control it, discovering that baby powder helped maintain dryness and protected the piece against humidity. The interplay of mold, bleach, and baby powder became integral to the final piece's aesthetic, contributing texture, color, and influencing its overall form.

This process, allowing nature to modify my work while simultaneously safeguarding it against natural elements, is a crucial aspect of my creative process. Even after I consider a work finished, natural elements persist in impacting it, contributing to its ongoing evolution in various ways.

Installation view, Dó10 (2013), Ho Chi Minh City Museum of Fine Arts, Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

2004

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, dry powder pigment.

The artwork Balls is one of my early creations using Dó paper, standing out as one of the initial works crafted through the repetition of a singular form.

Installation view, Rite of Passage (Crossing the Threshold) (2004), Chidlaw Gallery, Art Academy of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, U.S.

2004

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, dry powder pigment.

The work Eggs is one of the first sculptural objects that I made with Dó paper. It is also among the initial works where I employed the repetition of a single form.

Installation view, Rite of Passage (Crossing the Threshold) (2004), Chidlaw Gallery, Art Academy of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, U.S.

2002

Traditional Vietnamese Handmade Dó Paper, Dry Powder Pigment, Photographs

Selected paintingswere created in 2002 when I first started using Dó paper to create artwork.

In this series, I engaged in experimentation with Dó paper, exploring techniques like applying powder pigment to stain the paper akin to dyeing cloth, as well as incorporating methods such as cutting out holes and tearing the paper.

Following this series, my focus shifted towards sculptural work.