VN :

At first photography was purely a hobby, and I was drawn towards fashion photography. Over time, I realised that I’m a restless traveller, and even now I’m unable to stay in Hanoi for too long. This prompted me into redirecting my whole practice to focus on my identity – which is essentially a young woman in Vietnam, a country that is so commonly associated with the War. I started to question how I was raised in comparison to the places I was travelling to, and how big of a clash it was. I find that since most people don’t understand my context or background, I have made myself mellow and sacrificed multiple parts of who I am. I guess this has influenced the way I see and shoot.

VN :

Yeah, in a way. I notice that when I introduce myself, there is a preconceived notion of how people read you depending on where you are from. My imagery is a way to suggest that people are a lot more complex and not monoliths. I use elements of iconographies, references from Vietnamese paintings, photographs, drawings from love letters, and even colonial imagery to insert myself into my own history. It’s almost as if I am tracing back to these stories, and finding and piecing together parts of who I am. Additionally, the people who I photograph, myself included, don’t usually feel like we’re a part of the general youth in Vietnam, and aren’t traditional in the way that we express ourselves. So, my photography is a way to make space for us.

VN :

When I was conducting my research for my ongoing photo projects, I came across a bunch of family photo albums which of course, are nostalgic in their own right. But what I consistently noticed is that they were inherently binary, and patriarchal in their family structures. One husband, one wife, kids, and so on. And so, I used this style of vernacular imagery and incorporated it while shooting my friends who are visibly queer. It’s a way to let my friends be seen in the same language that is familiar to a lot of people.

VN :

It’s interesting to talk about this because even before I noticed the shift, I was aware that I’m an extremely introverted person. I prefer to stay at home a lot, and this is noticeable in my imagery which is mainly indoors. I feel like when I’m at home, I am able to internalise a lot of my thoughts, and bring this into my imagery as well. Stories that are set against the backdrop of home are always relatable right? There are complexities that exist within the house that we don’t often talk about because of embarrassment. My imagery is a way to channel these feelings, and balance this sense of being a fish out of water. It's also interesting to experiment if such large ideas can truly come across in a single image. Since I mainly worked with friends through this whole process, it’s almost like a re-enactment of domestic life itself.

VN :

It's definitely a mix of both. Most of my images are drawn from memory, and sometimes while the memory might feel important to you, it isn’t as exciting when you relay it. And so, for me the idea of remaking a scene comes from translating the emotional aspect of it. I’m trying to provoke a feeling. It isn’t about the grandeur of the set, or the idealistic version of life, but it is about breaking down the moment of life itself. When I’m photographing the people in my projects, it’s also extremely important for me to develop a strong connection with them. Whether it’s my own friends, or people I meet randomly on the streets, I’m keen on making the images as a collaboration. We often talk about the power dynamics of photography, and I’m aware that there is a violence associated with holding the camera, and so I want to make sure this doesn’t seep into my practice.

VN :

I think that’s a really interesting question because I’m intrigued with how putting an image into a vaccum alters its narrative. For example, if an image is on a plain white wall in a gallery and isn’t in conversation with the photographs next to it, then how does it change what a viewer feels about it? For me, the isolation and the removal of context defeats the purpose of image-making. I prefer to layer my imagery and create dialogues between them. When images talk to one another, I don’t believe that the photographer needs to demystify the work with text. Histories within Vietnam itself are so different from one another. The people from the North and the South have such different ideas of facts and motivators of our past. So, my images and the conversations they have are direct representations of the current state of myself, and a country that’s ever-changing. All photographs courtesy of the artist