The story begins in 1996. Before leaving for a month-long journey to Vietnam with 30 other Norwegian teachers, I had searched through books and online sources for hidden stories and overlooked places, an interest born from my experiences teaching Vietnamese refugees in Norway in the late 1970s and 1980s. One name caught my attention: the artist Nguyễn Thế Khang, who had conceived an ambitious plan to recreate Hanoi’s 36 Old Streets in a monumental lacquer work. The day after I arrived in Hanoi, I was welcomed into his home at 47 Triệu Việt Vương.
Author Olaf Husby (left) and Nguyễn Thế Khang (right) in his Hanoi Home in 1996.
Khang was 74 years old at the time. He received me politely, but his excitement quickly overtook the formalities. Within minutes, we were standing before sketches for his great project: a vast visual reconstruction of Hanoi’s 36 streets set in approx. 1850, before French colonization. The work was to be created in sơn mài.
The scale was extraordinary. The completed work was planned as 16 large panels, together measuring 1.70 by 10.08 meters. A raised decorative border, filled with motifs illustrating important historical events and characteristic features of Hanoi’s culture, would run around the sides. The work would also include inscriptions in classical Chinese characters and in Vietnam’s old Nôm script. With the frame included, the total size would exceed 22 square meters.
Khang's lacquer work up close.
Khang intended to use coromandel lacquerware, a technique with origins in China wherein several layers of black lacquer are applied to a prepared wooden surface. Once the lacquer has dried, the motifs are carved or incised into the surface, then colored, gilded, or inlaid with decorative materials such as mother-of-pearl. The images emerge vividly from the dark background.
Khang unrolled a sketch about a meter and a half long. Soon the table was covered with scenes from everyday life in old Hanoi: city gates, houses, markets, trees, canals, boats, bridges, monuments, temples, and pagodas. In its completed form, the work would show around 400 low buildings and approximately 2,000 people from all layers of society – working, bargaining, conversing, attending ceremonies, or practicing popular forms of religion and devotion. The detail was so extensive that even this vast work required simplification. Hàng Đào Street, for example, had once contained 120 houses; in Khang’s reconstruction, only 25 could be shown.
Reconstructing Old Hanoi
The preparation had been painstaking. Khang had spent years studying the period around 1850 and collecting information about a world and its customs that had largely disappeared. The tools, techniques, and working practices that had once defined streets such as Hàng Bạc, Hàng Đào, and Hàng Bông had faded from living memory. Detailed information about architecture, clothing, and daily life had also become fragmentary.
Khang stressed that the work should be accompanied by a carefully prepared catalogue, placing the historical scenes, the structure of the Old Quarter, and the cultural references in a broader context. Much of his knowledge came from his history studies at Thăng Long Private School, one of Hanoi’s oldest educational institutions. His history teacher had been Võ Nguyên Giáp, later general and commander-in-chief of North Vietnam’s forces. After leaving school, Khang continued to study old Vietnamese and French texts about Hanoi.
Nguyễn Thế Khang described his own style as neoclassical, though he had no formal art degree. As a child, he became familiar with embroidery and gilding and later developed his skills in modern artistic circles, becoming known for his lacquer and silk paintings. His artistic career truly began after he retired from the Vietnamese postal service in 1980, at the age of 58. At first, he copied Chinese calligraphy, but the rise of Vietnamese national feeling during and after the Sino-Vietnamese War of 1979 led him toward older Vietnamese traditions, especially depictions of folk festivals.
“I will begin the work in six months, in October 1996,” he said as he rolled up the sketch.
But there was one problem: money. The project was so large that he would have to hire assistants. To pay them, he had already begun selling his private works, pieces he loved and had never intended to put on the market. Even that would not be enough.
I was completely captivated. To my eyes, the proposed work was unlike any Vietnamese lacquerware I had seen before. Khang noticed my enthusiasm and asked directly: “Can you help me find funding?”
He had calculated the amount precisely: US$78,200.. The sum would cover completion of the work, wages for two assistants, exhibition equipment in Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi, media promotion, and the printing of 1,000 high-quality catalogues.
When I left 47 Triệu Việt Vương, I carried with me notes, sketches, photographs, and written material that I could use in my search for support. In Khang’s own English version, the project was titled The 36 Old Street Quarter of Hanoi in the XIXth Century.
The Search for Funding
I returned to Norway in early April 1996 and immediately began looking for financial support. Raising half a million kroner from colleagues, friends, and acquaintances was out of the question. I knew no art patrons with a special interest in Vietnamese art. Norwegian artists’ organizations responded positively but could offer no concrete advice.
Then an opportunity appeared. In 1995, Vietnam’s prime minister Võ Văn Kiệt had visited Norway. At the reception dinner, Norwegian prime minister Gro Harlem Brundtland had spoken of strengthening cooperation with Vietnam and announced that Norway would open an embassy in Hanoi in 1996. Diplomatic relations between Norway and North Vietnam had already been established in 1971.
In August 1996, NORAD announced a funding programme for cultural cooperation with developing countries. At the same time, it was announced that the Norwegian embassy in Hanoi would open during Brundtland’s return visit to Vietnam on 8 October 1996.
Suddenly the timing seemed urgent. I sent all the material on Nguyễn Thế Khang to the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and to Jens Kjell Otterbech, newly appointed ambassador to Vietnam. Since there was so little time to prepare and process a formal application, I suggested that a direct Norwegian grant to Khang’s project would be simpler. It would also be a meaningful way to mark Norway’s new presence in Hanoi.
On 12 September, Khang was received by Ambassador Otterbech in Hanoi. Soon afterwards I received his report. He had presented the project, brought documentation and a large sketch, and had been told that he should not worry about the application deadline. The embassy would contact Oslo, since it could not make such a decision alone. The conversation had been friendly, and the ambassador had promised to visit Khang’s home and workshop.
Nguyễn Thế Khang.
I felt relieved. The matter, I thought, had reached the right people.
But by then Khang’s ambitions had grown. He had begun planning a private gallery where the work could be exhibited. Property prices in Hanoi were rising quickly, and he believed action was needed. He estimated that USD 200,000 would be required to construct a five-story building with modern facilities. It would contain rental space, living quarters, exhibition rooms, a gallery, a lacquer-painting studio, and a handicraft workshop.
Khang regarded the plan as an excellent investment. The building, he proposed, would belong to the Norwegian embassy, while he would supervise and manage it. If he sold the monumental lacquer work, he would repay the investment to the Norwegian government and create a second, slightly different version for a private museum.
That was the last correspondence between Nguyễn Thế Khang and me. I felt I had done what I could. As for investing in Hanoi’s real-estate boom, that was far beyond anything I could take part in. Eventually I accepted that the project had not received Norwegian support. Little by little, the story slipped into the background.
Panel of Khang's ambitious work.
What Became of the Work?
Almost 30 years later, as I was preparing to return to Vietnam, the question suddenly came back: What had happened to Nguyễn Thế Khang’s great project?
An online search produced little, but one result was invaluable: an interview with Khang published by VNExpress on 22 February 2001 under the title “The Fate of the Largest Painting of Hanoi.”
After eight years of work and a budget of 300 million VND, the work had been completed. Khang valued it at 1.2 billion VND, four times the production cost, but because the intended buyer was the Hanoi Department of Culture and Information, he had reduced the price by half.
Completed panels of Khang's The 36 Old Street Quarter of Hanoi in the XIXth Century.
The painting had been exhibited in central Hanoi during the celebration of the 990th anniversary of Thăng Long–Hanoi in 2000. After the exhibition ended, it was placed in storage while a professional committee considered whether the city should purchase it.
Opinions were divided. A purchase would recognize the artist’s dedication, but might also provoke criticism from the professional art world. Khang’s artistic competence had been questioned. Some professionals regarded him as an amateur. There was also a broader question: should the work be considered art, or handicraft?
Khang's depictions of Hanoi's cramped old quarter in the 1850s.
Khang held firm on the price and suggested that he was prepared to sell the work elsewhere, even abroad, if the Hanoi authorities did not buy it. The situation was made more painful by his declining health. He was seriously ill and needed costly weekly treatment. He seemed caught between bureaucratic hesitation and personal hardship, while the fate of his life’s work remained undecided.
A second VNExpress article, published on 9 May 2001, reported that Nguyễn Thế Khang had died during the months of waiting. His family argued that the authorities should respect his wishes and purchase the work. A government representative expressed sympathy and praised the painting’s ability to recreate the atmosphere of the past. Yet the size of the work remained a serious obstacle. There was no suitable place for permanent display.
Searching for the Painting
A cafe at 47 Triệu Việt Vương next to Nguyễn Thế Khang's former home.
So this past summer, In Khang’s spirit, I booked a hotel on Chân Cầm Street – the “street of stringed instruments” in Hanoi’s Old Quarter – and began searching for museums or exhibitions where the panels might now be displayed. I found no trace. I would have to search more directly.
Number 47 Triệu Việt Vương, Khang’s home, was only half an hour away on foot. The house number led to a quiet courtyard. Next door was a modest café. When a young employee brought my iced coffee, I asked in clumsy Vietnamese whether she knew the former resident, Nguyễn Thế Khang. I wrote down his name, the words “painting of Hanoi’s Old Quarter, 36 streets,” and made a rough sketch. She opened Google Translate and showed me one word: “Wait.”
When she returned, I understood that she had learned from a neighbor that Khang had a son named Nguyễn Thế Duy. She had neither an address nor a phone number. It was a step forward, but still far from the goal.
Then Trịnh Lan Hương, a creative director in Hanoi, became interested in the search. Soon she was in contact with Nguyễn Thế Duy, who confirmed his relationship to Khang. We visited him after a drive from old Hanoi, where he greeted us with warmth. The family’s artistic talent had clearly been passed on: Nguyễn Thế Duy was an established musician, and his apartment resembled a gallery, filled largely with his own works. Among them were lacquer paintings bearing Nguyễn Thế Khang’s signature.
Nguyễn Thế Khang's signature on one of his many works kept at his son's home.
When asked about the lacquer panels, Duy kept us briefly in suspense, then opened the website of Old Streets Gallery. The entire artwork appeared before us. It was not 16 panels, but 21. The two outermost contained texts; the other19 depicted old Hanoi in panoramic form, stretching from Hàng Than to Hàng Khay and from the Red River to Hàng Gai and Hàng Quạt.
But where was the original? The answer came quickly: it was on display at Hong Ngoc Fine Art, 110B Ngọc Hà, in Ba Đình district.
Hong Ngoc Fine Art, 110B Ngọc Hà - the current site of Nguyễn Thế Khang's great work.
Rediscovery
Stepping into Hong Ngoc Fine Art on a warm April day was pleasant. The shop made a strong impression, with embroidery, clothing, sculptures, gold, silver, and gemstones. But our goal was near the entrance, beside ordinary souvenirs. On a long wall behind a counter hung the panels, next to a sign announcing “the largest lacquer ware (sic) artwork in Vietnam,” titled 36 Streets of Thang Long Hanoi in the 19th Century.
Unfortunately, the presentation did not do justice to the work. More than 15 meters long, it almost disappeared among large photographs and goods aimed at tourists. The glossy lacquer reflected the shop interior. A wide counter prevented viewers from seeing the work as a whole or moving close enough to study the details properly. Some documents offered supplementary information, including translations of the text panels written in Chữ Nôm.
The current presentation of The 36 Old Street Quarter of Hanoi in the XIXth Century.
We had rediscovered the artwork, but had our task really been completed? We wanted to contact its owner, who, according to Nguyễn Thế Duy was an art lover who had admired Khang’s work for many years. After Khang’s passing, he convinced Khang’s widow to sell it to him, and he displayed it in his shop. A series of personal events led to him no longer owning the shop nor living in Hanoi. Our attempt to make contact with the current owner absorbed us, but we did not succeed. For now, our questions remain unanswered.
Still, we did not want to leave the story of this unexpected journey – what Vietnamese people often call duyên, or fate – unfinished. The journey became a thread, weaving together my connection with the land and people of Hanoi in particular, and Vietnam more generally.
And perhaps the journey does not have to end here. Now that the story has been told, other doors may open – not only for us, but for the wider public. Our hope is that one of them may lead to an exhibition space more worthy of Nguyễn Thế Khang’s vision: a place where the public can encounter the original work, explore it through digital technology, and learn more about old Hanoi through a carefully produced art book. In the meantime, it remains available for interested visitors able to look past the unsatisfactory presentation and witness a spectacular work of vision and dedication.
