2023–2024

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, acrylic.

Blessed Lady of the Nail is part of a broader body of work titled Ornamentalism, in which I use the nail industry as a window to critically examine widespread misconceptions about Asian women in American society.

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 living world of humans. A quintessential example is the veneration paid 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. This sculpture is a homage to the protective deities of Vietnamese tradition, reimagined to honor those in the beauty and nail care industry. By incorporating and amalgamating the symbolism and iconography associated with the feminine form and the beauty industry, the artwork seeks to cast a protective aura over individuals dedicated to the art of nail care. Blessed Lady of the Nail stands as a beacon of respect and protection, embodying the sacred duty to safeguard the well-being and spirit of everyone involved in this field. Within this artwork, the nail transcends its ordinary significance to become a powerful symbol for Vietnamese women in America. It confronts and reshapes stereotypes, reimagining them as badges of strength and empowerment.

This artwork does more than pay homage to the revered protectors of Vietnamese culture; it actively challenges and transforms conventional narratives about Vietnamese women. By aiming to honor the traditional roles of divine guardians, I also seek to carve out a new narrative of resilience and empowerment for Vietnamese women. This transformation shifts conventional perceptions into a testament of power and dignity.

Photo by Mia.

2023

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

Unlike other works in Ornamentalism that delve into concepts like the myth of the model minority, racial stereotypes, and pink labor, the Nail Women video takes a unique approach by focusing on the perspective of Vietnamese female nail technicians living in the U.S.

In the video, I interviewed Vietnamese nail technicians in various Chicago salons, using our shared mother tongue, Vietnamese, to capture their thoughts during work and breaks. The video's objective is not to depict their work lives or personal stories but to address a fundamental question: Who is a Vietnamese woman?

This question explores the tension surrounding Vietnamese identity, shaped by the enduring impact of the Vietnam War. It highlights the divisive views on Vietnamese self-identity, particularly in comparisons between individuals in Vietnam and those who have migrated or were born in America. The complexity arises from the interplay of historical legacies, different social systems, wealth disparities, and the multitude of narratives woven into the experiences of those situated between America and Vietnam.

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

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2023

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, resin.

Invisible Dragon is part of a body of work titled Ornamentalism. The work features two sculptures depicting left and right hands with intricate Eastern religious gestures. Emerging from lotus flower bases, the sculptures convey symbolic beauty, adorned with vivid pink-colored nails.

Invisible Dragon challenges harmful stereotypes imposed on Asian women in American society, notably the 'dragon lady' archetype. Throughout history, Asian women have been subjected to the Euro-American gaze, cast as submissive, domestically inclined, and exoticized, perpetuating discriminatory assumptions that affect interpersonal relationships and professional lives.

Concurrently, the striking pink-colored nails in the artwork symbolize Vietnamese female nail technicians and their often overlooked labor. Many Asian women, including Vietnamese nail technicians, are employed in low-wage, pink-collar jobs, lacking access to power and perceived as cheap and disposable laborers. These service workers frequently lack formal contracts, guaranteed minimum wages, and other employment benefits, relying primarily on tips and a percentage of the service fee.

Through Invisible Dragon, I aim to question and dismantle restrictive racial narratives, fostering a more nuanced understanding of the diverse experiences and identities within the Asian community. At the same time, this artwork serves as a metaphorical exploration of the existence, identity, and reality of Vietnamese nail technicians living in America.

Moreover, the symbolic association of dragons with power in Asian culture takes on a transformative role in this context. By linking Asian women with this mythical creature, the intention is to honor and celebrate their inherent strength, recognizing the power they rightfully deserve. This dual perspective aims to reshape perceptions and contribute to a more empowering narrative surrounding Asian women.

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2022–2023

Traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wood, acrylic nails.

The "Model Minority" is a pivotal theme in the body of work entitled Ornamentalism, and is closely examined in the work Minority Model. The origins of the model minority stereotype in the United States can be traced back to the mid-20th century, particularly during the civil rights movement. In this case, the "model minority" is the cultural perception and stereotype that portrays Asians as a monolithic, homogeneous group achieving overall success due to being hardworking and academically inclined. This stereotype suggests that individuals within the group are high-achieving, law-abiding, and possess cultural values that contribute to their success. The model minority stereotype often portrays Asians, particularly Asian women, as passive, obedient, and lacking assertiveness. This portrayal is highly oversimplified and fails to acknowledge the rich diversity existing within Asian communities. Additionally, the model minority stereot’ stereotype can create pressure and expectations for individuals within Asian communities to conform to a narrow set of characteristics, overlooking their unique struggles and challenges.

In this work—Minority Model—thousands of nail-shaped protuberances jut from boxes arranged into a monolithic shape, collectively presenting a sharp and imposing visage. At first glance, the collectivity of the nails may give the impression of uniformity; however, a closer inspection reveals the distinctiveness of each individual nail. Using the nail shape as a stand-in for the Vietnamese female nail technician, this artwork serves as a powerful metaphor subverting the misconception that Asian women are a monolithic body, submissive, docile, and obedient in nature. The work actively challenges oversimplified notions that erase the distinct individuality and strength of Asian women, compelling viewers to engage in a critical examination of the truth behind the stereotypes.

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

Photo by Laurel Hauge.

2023–2024

Ornamentalism is an immersive series of artworks that deeply engages with the multifaceted experiences of Vietnamese-American female nail technicians in Chicago through sculpture, installation, and moving image. This compelling body of work explores the nail salon industry—a sector predominantly shaped by Vietnamese-American women—as a lens through which societal perceptions and entrenched biases can be critically examined and challenged. More broadly, Ornamentalism explores how migration from the Global South to the Global North, intertwined with the complex dynamics of Western cultural biases and molded by the long-standing effects of war and political turmoil, impact both individual and collective identity.

Each artwork in the series— Minority Model, Invisible Dragon, Blessed Lady of the Nail, and Nail Women—addresses different aspects of the Asian female experience in America through the prism of the nail salon industry. These pieces connect the individual experience of nail technicians to broader socio-economic contexts in order to reveal the complex effects of living with pervasive biases. At the same time, the work acknowledging the resilience, self-determination and personal power of these technicians while 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

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

The Gods of Expectation is an amalgamation of ancient Vietnam matriarchal icons from various folk religions and symbols of domestic duty. It contains three sculptures: Divine Cycle, Divine Constant, and Divine Source, together with five questions painted on the wall.

In Divine Cycle, a goddess statue is positioned atop a washing machine, and in Divine Constant, a goddess is seated on a kitchen sink, elevated on an altar table. In Divine Source, a goddess statue assumes a reclining pose atop a bed, deviating from the traditional display for this type of statue, typically reserved for male Buddhas. These three works are intricately connected through an umbilical cord.

Painted on the wall in the Vietnamese language, the five questions—Who is woman? What is woman? Where is woman? Why is woman? When is woman?—invite viewer interaction. Viewers can engage with the works by answering one or all five questions and placing their responses inside the washing machine, sink, or on the bed.

The Gods of Expectation delves into societal expectations placed on women, specifically concerning domestic duties and childbearing. Worldwide, women undertake a disproportionately larger share of unpaid household and care work—averaging two and a half times more than men. Even in affluent nations like the U.S., studies show that women devote an average of four hours per day to unpaid household tasks, in contrast to men who spend 2.5 hours. It raises the question of why the burden of domestic labor, involving tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and caretaking, consistently falls on women. Furthermore, why is this responsibility frequently perceived as an "expectation" imposed on women?

By interweaving symbols of female power with symbols of female duty, I aim to create a new kind of monumental object that challenges our collective understanding of femininity.

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

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

Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, polystyrene, acrylic.

The States of Mind installation, exhibited at the Myorakuji temple—a Buddhist and historical site in Fukuoka city, Japan, comprises five statues of a female figure. Each statue strikes a different pose, symbolizing a specific state of mind. Drawing inspiration from ancient female icons across various cultures, this work reflects my fascination with revitalizing matriarchal histories and symbols to the forefront of contemporary discourse.

The work seeks to connect universally, transcending personal backgrounds and cultures. It taps into a shared human emotional spectrum, including triumph, exhaustion, relaxation, frustration, and fatigue. Through poses of Celebration, Fatigue, Relaxation, Protection, and Nourishment, each statue conveys its respective emotional states, offering viewers a pathway to reflect on and engage with shared experiences.

Throughout the exhibition, viewers are invited to interact with the female figures by responding to one or more of the five questions I have proposed:

Who is woman?

What is woman?

Where is woman?

Why is woman?

When is woman?

Participants inscribe their answers on a small piece of Dó paper, provided at the venue, and are invited to attach their responses to any of the five figures, selecting one that resonates with their perspective. Thus, The States of Mind transforms into a vessel for people's thoughts and ideas about the concept of women, with their answers to the five questions becoming an integral part of the artwork.

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 statue continued to amass a diverse array of public insights.

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

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

2019

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 the citywide exhibition of sculpture in public spaces lasting six months, marked one of the largest sculpture events held in Helsinki. 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 female goddesses in the Đạo Mẫu folk religion. These icons, believed to trace back to matriarchal societies in ancient Vietnam, served as the foundation for my work. To make this work, I went to Sơn Đồng village, in the North of Vietnam where they specialize in making lacquer statues using the traditional techniques passed down through the generations. I commissioned the local craftspeople to carve three goddesses using the traditional Northern technique. The three wooden statues were then lacquered using gold leaf. Finally, I covered them with circles of Dó paper.

The installation was displayed in three locations throughout Helsinki, and over time, viewers witnessed natural transformations in the appearance of the statues due to weathering.

Divine Feminine serves as an exploration of Vietnamese matriarchal imagery and traditional craftsmanship. Moreover, it stands as a reflection of my intention to resurrect matriarchal histories and symbols of Vietnamese culture to global prominence, celebrating the inherent strength, power, and sensibility of women.

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

(Worms Revisited 2017)

Vietnamese handmade Dópaper, 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.

2004. Revisited 2017

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

(Balls Revisited 2016)

Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, Glass Jar, Table, 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

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

2012

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

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

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

Vietnamese Handmade Dó Paper, 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

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

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 the course of 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

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

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.

2002

Vietnamese Handmade Dó Paper, Dry Powder Pigment, Photographs

Selected paintings were 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.