The Happy Family and, Always and Every- where, the “Empty Orchestra”… – Veronika Radulovic 2012

There was once a time when hardly anyone in Hanoi could imagine an international commercial advertising space with colorful flickering neon signs. Let alone think that it could not only cost money but even earn a lot of money. Hanoi seemed calm, rather colorless and quiet. Until the early 90s, the cityscape was dominated by hand- painted posters and text panels with Party slogans and the ideas of the government for a civilized society, which added both color and instruction for the people. “…for new successes…” or “…for an orderly society, and clean and beautiful streets…” they said, and with all these statements the text panels already seemed to very clearly point to possibilities for change, where everyone should be involved. Yes – everyone seemed to be for something, with an uplifting energy noticeable everywhere. All of which was preceded in 1986 by Vietnam’s renewal policy, which has passed into history under the term “Doi Moi”. This indicated an opening to the west, the acceptance of a market-oriented society, as well as the possible acquisition of private property. The collective slogan, visible everywhere, that accompanied these major political reforms in Vietnam, was: We are working on the renovation process, for the wealth of the people, for the prosperity of the country and for an equitable and civilized society. “Day manh cong dien toan cuoc doi moi vi dan Giau. Nuoc manh, xa hoi cong bang van minh” and everyone who read that immediately knew what it meant. For themselves. For their family. Their house. And for the facade facing the street.

The artist Nguyen The Son, born in 1978 in Hanoi, can only vaguely remember this time. He was just 8 years old when the 6th Congress of the Communist Party of Viet Nam promised artists free marketing of their work as well as free choice of topic. He experienced the lifting of the U.S. embargo, which had been in place for 19 years, on 4 February 1994 at the age of 16. A few years later he studied painting at the Academy of Fine Arts in Hanoi, concentrating on silk painting and completing the usual required courses. The assignments: mostly idealized images of the city of Hanoi and of country life. But there was also his personal work. Free work in which he showed us the increasingly visible awakening of Vietnam, such as the multitude of narrow house facades draped with blue-white-red construction tarps – directly next to vague party slogans. Even the titles of his early works, e.g. New Higher Level or Super Conductor, and the tall, narrow format of his images pointed to this upward trend. His conscious perception and visual interpretation of these transformations, the evidence of the “awakening of Vietnam”, has led to his new exhibition “Nha Mat Pho”.

However, Nguyen The Son was and is not just a chronicler of his time. His night photographs of trees, always conceived as closed and extensible series, with emphasis on the processual, and created in conjunction with his photographs on the theme of energy, show, almost ironically, the bundles and branches of the electrical cables. The trees themselves consist of nothing but Light and Shadow. Today, these works seem like the observations of a visionary. A visionary who already in the early days had a sense of the dark side of power and new beginnings, the money, the relationships, who saw the balancing act of political opening in Vietnam; who sees that the brightly colored façade of consumer goods has today become a visible indicator of cultural losses – for which a high price may yet be paid.

The fact that Nguyen The Son often used traditional silk painting for his work emphasized the strangeness of the construction of the high buildings – their ever more elegant facades symbolizing emerging power and energy. And again and again, the construction of a private house was accompanied by the eager opening of a hopefully lucrative business. And while many of the business ideas came with foreign investors, they were in addition also as abundant as the aspirations of the people and their susceptibility to illusions that, yes – decades earlier – had been “cherished”, although under very different circumstances.

Beauty. Every day a new face. Karaoke. Improve your current beauty. Karaoke. Pure beauty. Karaoke. We believe in the form – not the size. Assert your personality. Beauty. Karaoke. We supply natural beauty and always and everywhere karaoke. Karaoke. Karaoke … these are the slogans and illusions that Nguyen The Son shows us in his work today. The advertising slogans appear on the building facades as the concrete poetry of everyday life. The political reform in Vietnam seems to have been caught up in a wave of colorful consumer goods and unattainable desires, like the dream of eternal beauty. But that’s the thing about illusions … although we always feel a bit cheated by them, we still love to believe in them. Everyone wants to be rich and beautiful. A dream of perpetual summer. Have, want, buy. And buy more.

But an endless loop of greed becomes apparent. Four, five or seven stories high? Faster, higher, further… but where to? Who will succeed? Is the new wealth really there for everyone?

The houses with their faces to the street (the Nha Mat Phos) speak clearly. They symbolize the power of money – and yet, every facade has a reverse side. The part you don’t see right away. But everyone recognizes in Nguyen The Son’s title his subtle allusion to the popular continuation of the term “Nha Mat Pho…” and the influential father – political power. Together they form the two main values and safety factors of the new society. The visible power is secured and maintained by the invisible power. This seems obvious, but Nguyen The Son leaves us alone with many open questions. The real differentiation he leaves to us. And everyone knows that this differentiation and political stock-taking is necessary, and yet everyone still believes in eternal youth and a fair society, and that he is ultimately a “creative musician”, enthusiastically received in a beautiful world of illusion between videos and DVDs. And has already provided the sad answer himself: kara – oke, literal translation: the empty orchestra.

Where are the stars and the real heroes of everyday life? With a second, closer look at the relief-like photographs (embossment photos) in Nguyen The Son’s installation we see people passing by on motorcycles. Families, workers, mothers with their children. Outfitted with the products of progress, their movements mirror the tempo of the times, and even the variety of motorcycles testifies to economic change. He places them, barely visible, before a world of colorful and ever more elaborate facades. They appear as small traces that will never match the giant models on the Nha Mat Phos, and yet they transport as industriously as ever their supposed personal happiness. Tinkering with the great reform and often overlooking, in the shadow of the grand facades, that the question of power has long since been decided.

Perhaps this phrase hangs hidden somewhere but still visible:
“Non song Viet Nam co tro nen ve vang hay khong, dan toc Viet nam co duoc ve vang sanh vai voi cac cuong quoc nam chau hay khong, chinh la nho mot phan lon o cong hoc tap cua cac chau….” Whether the land Vietnam will be glorious and the Vietnamese nation will stand together with other powerful nations of the world depends largely on what the children learn.

This gives cause for hope; and happiness – it’s still achievable!