As I sit here to pen these thoughts, I still find myself uncertain of the mindset or role to adopt. For the past four years, ever since my second exhibition ended, I haven’t officially introduced anything as an “artist.” Instead, I immersed myself in creative practices. At first, it was to soothe myself, then later as a way to escape into (what was deemed) other worthwhile pursuits, for others. Because of this, this return requires tremendous effort to pull the cherished reflections and contemplations out of their quiet corner.

MOTION | ĐỘNG

I believe that the time spent quietly doing “worthwhile” work, though not glamorous or attention-grabbing, helped “purchase” for me the necessary ferment. Therefore, before talking about the series of works that you will soon see, hear, read, feel, smell, and taste, I would like to take a moment to write about the “absence” that just passed.
 

At the end of my second exhibition (*Ủa* - 2020), I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the audience and those who helped me bring it all together. Despite the clumsiness of it all, I was met with warmth and affection, which only deepened my internal questioning about the need for expression and recognition, and the vanity of presenting one’s work. I wondered, with the audience’s heartfelt engagement, would what I do next be enough? Were these surface-level displays with so much desire for promotion worthy of the viewers’ sincere emotions? And, if I pursued my own heart to the fullest, was the existence of an artist like me even necessary?
 

THE CORE | VIÊN

Like many others who are growing, I found it hard to come up with definite, honest answers. So I chose to do other things, slowly growing, allowing time to take responsibility. I dove into creative work to earn a living, to practice, to experiment… to at least not let myself or my craft wither away. More importantly, it gave me the opportunity to "observe" life, illuminating the shortcomings of the human condition. Indeed, life cannot be underestimated. During that time, I picked up countless reflections and genuine insights, gradually learning to accept myself and arts.

There came a point when I realized I had reached the threshold of a certain thought: that my life, or the life of anyone, even a great figure, is quite small. "The old leaves fall, the new ones grow," time flows, and human lives are gradually buried and forgotten. Ideas and works will pass away too—who will remember them? Are these small things worth “reading,” and if so, must they be “exhibited” before an audience? I circled in this despair for a while before growing tired of it. I turned myself inside out, understanding my own foolishness in some areas. I startled myself when I realized that if I continued to make arts as a commodity, seeking to exchange value with the audience (whether it be money, recognition, affection, or fame), it would be utterly pointless. Life ends, and so do people. But if I saw myself as a mere presence, the perspective would change entirely.

I think, perhaps the things we do in this lifetime, even if they don’t create any significant changes, at least continue to pass on beliefs from one generation to the next. And sometimes, just being present and continuing to walk this path is enough. An artist can do whatever they want or for no reason at all, as long as they keep going and open up inner dialogues with themselves, and then with the audience, that’s already precious.

With that realization, I began to shift the way I create arts. As a beloved master painter once said: creativity is a way to cultivate oneself. So I took the time to both make work and grow, stepping out into life to learn and nurture. Transitioning from surface-level displays and the notion that I was the "creator" of my works, I gradually learned to appreciate my pieces and let them have a life of their own.

What I do is pack parts of myself and slices of my life into the work so that I can fully live, give, and pour everything into it. And then, I let them step out of my hands, to find their way to those who need them, existing in their own minds—fueled by daily, lifelong experiences. This time, I want to create works out of gratitude to the audience who have known and embraced me, and for those I have yet to meet in the future. I hope these works won’t need to be rushed into recognition but will be something you may pick up and put down whenever you find yourself in need of contemplation and reflection in some circumstance. In other words, I wish to leave behind “traces” so that future viewers can resonate with me and, above all, feel comforted knowing that at least someone has thought about these things.
 

ENCOURAGEMENT | ĐỘNG VIÊN

When I realized this, an exhibition titled “Encouragement” seemed like the perfect fit. Because, more than anything, it’s for me and for those who need a little encouragement in this life. The works are from me, but the ownership of their meaning belongs to you. I hope that whatever you do, you will have companions to share and walk alongside you. To see yourself in others and to see your life reflected in the lives of others. If you look closely, this exhibition will mainly feature photography and, more broadly, visual arts. But beyond the physical representations, I hope to welcome you into my world with all your senses, through various creative mediums (writing, video, installation, sound, scent…). Therefore, I hope you will enter this space with mindfulness, gifting yourself moments of reflection and dialogue.
 

In terms of content, I’ve carefully selected works that speak to our times, not focusing on trends, aesthetics, or fleeting phenomena. Yet, characteristic of my style, personal memories are interwoven, blending extremes into murky gray areas: old - new, young - old, right - wrong, present - future, trends - sustainability... But no matter how diverse, in the end, they are all stories of ENCOURAGEMENT. How it turns out, I leave to fate and your choice to experience.
 

Initially, this exhibition was organized as an event. But then I reflected on my desire to archive it as encouragement for the future. So I overcame my insecurity about words and wrote additional pages for each work, compiling them into a self-published book. The idea is, even if you can’t attend the event, you can still exhibit with me every time you turn a page. Though I hesitate to say this upfront, I believe that ENCOURAGEMENT could evolve and be reborn in many different forms and formats. I hope you will welcome and nurture this "child that has left my hands" into your own.
 

Once again, with countless memories, I sincerely thank all those who have supported, embraced, and stood by me—whether seen or unseen—as we continue this life journey together. And finally:

“Thank you, my beloved country (đất mẹ), for letting me be one of your children and for allowing me to say these words through the arts.”