Looking upward, downward, left and right, we follow an invisible yet powerful flow of energy in the dark, then carefully gaze at the artworks as if they are living entities. To enjoy this multi-sensory experience, it is best to slowly spend time with each artwork in a concentrated mind, without looking for an immediate context from it. Let our imagination roam freely, and embrace all the emotions and memories resurfacing within us.
“In absence, presence” is a group exhibition held at Nguyen Art Foundation, featuring works by Oanh Phi Phi, Lêna Bùi, Nguyễn Thúy Hằng and Linh San. Curated by Bill Nguyễn, the exhibition explores the affective qualities and sensorial sensitivities of artistic materials, and how processes of material transformation may, in turn, affect the way artworks are perceived and experienced. The first part of the exhibition is located in EMASI Vạn Phúc (Thủ Đức City), featuring works by Phi Phi Oanh and Lêna Bùi, while the second part at EMASI Nam Long (District 7) features works by Nguyễn Thúy Hằng and Linh San.
Through each artist’s unique way of working with different materials, with constant innovation and experimentation, paintings, sculptures, and invisible words become living entities. Instead of offering explanations on the artworks, the curator encourages viewers to use their own senses, alongside concentration and imagination, to encounter and fully embrace the existence of the artworks living in front of them.
Upon arrival, we enter an experimental laboratory of “lacquerscopes,” and embark on a journey back in time to the origins of our existence. Oanh Phi Phi’s light sculptural installation ‘Palimpsest’ (2011–ongoing) takes us into an imagined realm of cells under the microscope, and the greatness of the universe through the telescope. Breaking away from the traditional method of applying many layers of sơn ta (Vietnamese lacquer art) on vóc (a baseboard on which lacquer is applied), the artist painted dozens of lacquered “skins” or strips of patterns on glass slides, then magnified them on a semi-transparent screen through light projectors.
Oanh Phi Phi. ‘Palimpsest,’ 2011–ongoing. Glass, sơn ta resin, pigment, aluminum, inox, cork, aramid fiber, epoxy, gold, silver and aluminum leaf, steel. Installation dimensions variable.
Oanh Phi Phi. ‘Palimpsest,’ 2011–ongoing. Glass, sơn ta resin, pigment, aluminum, inox, cork, aramid fiber, epoxy, gold, silver and aluminum leaf, steel. Installation dimensions variable.
‘Inalienable Parts’ (2024) appears in the shape of human form, and represents three different generations of women from the same bloodline: the artist herself, her mother and her daughter. As time has gone by, the human body constantly grows and decays, lives and eventually dies. Multiple layers of lacquered cuirasses resemble time being frozen, as “empty shells now with no insides, armours now with no bodies to defend, people now with no identity.”
Oanh Phi Phi. “Inalienable Parts”, 2024. Sơn ta resin on carbon fiber and kevlar epoxy composite.
Cuirass 1: 50 x 38 x 25 cm. Cuirass 2: 48 x 38 x 25 cm. Cuirass 3: 40 x 35 x 25 cm.
To enter the space filled with Lêna Bùi’s works and enjoy this moment to the fullest, phones should be put away and shoes should be taken off before entering. We let our bare feet touch the ground and lead us along the dash lines between the works; our eyes gaze at layers of colors and details, while our ears listen to faint sonic vibrations from different directions. We find ourselves navigating between what our body holds, what our body feels from the external world, and the spiritual world beyond our control. With the combination of visual and audio, there exists an internal dialogue between the works. Through ‘Electrical impulses no.1’ (2024), ‘Cosmos no.2’ (2021) and other translucent silk paintings such as ‘Circulations no.3’ (2021), many different life forms happening within us: cell multiplication, vein pulsation, heartbeats, and endless flows of energy flowing all over our body.
Left: Lêna Bùi. ‘Electrical impulses no.1,’ 2024. Ink and watercolor painting on silk and archival paper 122 x 82 cm.
Right: Lêna Bùi. ‘Cosmos no.2,’ 2021. 200-knot handwoven wool carpet, sound installation. 190 x 120 cm.
Lêna Bùi. ‘Circulations no.3,’ 2021. Ink and watercolor painting on silk and archival paper. 38 x 53 cm.
In the last room, the body of ‘Cosmos no.1’ (2021), made of handwoven wool, now no longer breathes and slightly hovers above the ground, facing ‘Light’ (2024) up on the ceiling. Looking up, we observe moving images of insects gathering around a bright circle of light, and in the next moment it constantly changes into different landscapes. Perhaps, after observing the liveliness happening within the body and nature, we now reach the final moment of the life cycle: cleansing and letting go, life and death, decomposition and resurrection. Then, life starts all over again.
Lêna Bùi. ‘Cosmos no.1,’ 2021. 200-knot handwoven wool carpet. 190 x 120 cm.
Lêna Bùi. ‘Light,’ 2024. Video, color, sound. 00:02:53.
Moving on to the next exhibition venue, we encounter more sculptural works of human and non-human forms: life and death, words that cannot be spoken, living memories, nostalgia and time that remain here in silence. Nguyễn Thúy Hằng's series titled ‘The Warriors’ (2011–2015) consists of muslin-covered metal half-man, half-animal figures standing and twisting upwards and downwards from the ceiling, as if they are wandering around aimlessly into nowhere. The toughness of the metal figures is covered with the softness of layers of fabric, which resemble the wrinkled skin of human bodies that have lived through great deals of turbulence in life. Whether these figures come from this lifetime or remain from the past life still remains unknown; however, it is clear that there is departure but no arrival, a lack of sense of belonging and the desire for elsewhere.
Nguyễn Thúy Hằng. ‘The Warriors,’ 2011–2015. Muslin, metal, acrylic. Dimensions variable (7 pieces total).
Nguyễn Thúy Hằng. ‘The Warriors,’ 2011–2015. Muslin, metal, acrylic. Dimensions variable (7 pieces total).
‘Bowl of Sorrow’ (2019) and ‘The Chair’ (2019) were mainly made of two materials with contrasting characteristics: the vulnerability of bản paper that can be easily torn, and the density and roughness of wood. Among the intimidating yet intriguing muslin-covered iron warriors that are constantly wandering, these two sculptures stay still. Yet, their stillness and silence reveal a strong sense of spiritual energy, and each constructed layer beneath the sculpture contains the passing of time and forgotten memories.
Nguyễn Thúy Hằng. ‘Bowl of Sorrow,’ 2019. Wooden cabinet, bản paper, silver leaf, insects, acrylic. 170 x 104 x 44 cm.
Nguyễn Thúy Hằng. ‘The Chair,’ 2019. Wooden chair, bản paper, silver leaf, acrylic. 107 x 56 x 60 cm.
With a background in literature, Linh San creates works that resemble simple objects of memories from daily life by using ceramics as her main artistic language in her practice. In ‘nights’ (2022), which consists of 1,096 pieces of “paper” made of porcelain, the artist laid out stacks of imagined letters full of words that cannot be spoken, frozen as time folds. Each shape represents different states of porcelain paper: flattened, folded, balled up, piled up onto each other, and wrinkled.
Linh San. ‘nights,’ 2022. Bát Tràng porcelain. Dimensions variable.
According to the curatorial text, “for ceramic to come alive, earth must sacrifice its living.” Working with ceramics tests every ounce of patience and care of the artist; the clay is constantly kneaded and shaped, until it reaches the desired form and ready to go into the kiln. It is a labor of love, and also a testament to patience, care and time.
Linh San. ‘nights,’ 2022. Bát Tràng porcelain. Dimensions variable.
In a hidden space filled with silence and almost pitch darkness, three ceramic pieces ‘Embracement #1: This wrist, that wrist’ float in the air. Strips of clay take after shapes of collar and cuffs of a shirt that the artist’s mother used to wear while working on the farm. To see each one carefully, one needs to hold a flashlight and gently gaze at the porcelain-made “fabric” piece, where meticulous details of embroidery stitches are revealed as the dim light sweeps through.
Linh San. ‘Embracement #1: This wrist, that wrist,’ 2022. Bát Tràng porcelain. Dimensions variable.
As time goes on, materials may change or decompose, human beings will grow old and eventually die one day. How does one preserve nostalgia and the passing of time? How to turn forgotten memories into something visible and eternal, and let it be seen, heard, and touched? The darkness takes over the exhibition space, which makes us pay attention to the silence and absent presence, the unknown in front of us. In between the cycle of life and death, mortality and immortality, toughness and softness, the near and the far, the past and present, we keep looking for remains of something that has been gone forever.
Installation view of ‘In absence, presence’ at Nguyen Art Foundation (EMASI Nam Long).
“In absence, presence” is now on view until February 2025 at Nguyen Art Foundation’s two venues EMASI Van Phuc and EMASI Nam Long. More details on reservation, opening hours and public programs can be found here on the Facebook page.
