by Do Le Andao and Y-Sa Le Dinh
artwork courtesy of Khanh Truong

Artist/Writer Khanh Truong was born in 1948 in the province of Trung Phan, Viet Nam. A self-taught artist, his work has exhibited in many countries including Viet Nam, Thailand, the Philippines, and the U.S. Khanh Truong is also known for his work in the literary arena. In 1990, he founded the Vietnamese literary journal Hop Luu. He was the editor in chief until he became ill in 2003. Khanh Truong has published many short story collections, essays and poetry volumes including Do You Still Love Me?, The Conclusion, Twenty Years of Vietnamese Literature in the Diaspora (a collection he co-edited with Cao Xuan Huy and Truong Dinh Luan), Authors and Their Works, and The Poetry of Khanh Truong.

After taking a break from writing and painting due to his severe illness, the intrepid artist has just finished a collection of paintings titled ”Resurrection.“ On February 4-5, 2006, Nguoi Viet Community Gallery in the heart of Little Saigon held an exhibition featuring Khanh Truong’s latest paintings. The event was hosted by the Vietnamese American Arts & Letters Association (VAALA). A joyous and reinvigorated Khanh Truong attended the opening reception.

In this interview with Y-Sa Le Dình and Do Le Anh Dao, the artist talks about his work and a lifetime dedicated to art.

NHA: You told Van Magazine in 1997, “I’m going to eventually move into abstracts. As of now, I think I no longer paint in ‘forms’. This change is a subtle move of the heart.” Your last exhibition in 2002 featured a few abstract paintings and nudes. “Resurrection” is not your first venture into abstract art. Can you elaborate on how you came to abstract painting? It seems like almost all of the paintings in “Resurrection” carry a color scheme that is light and bright, almost the opposite of your previous paintings. Can you tell us about this color choice?

KT: It’s true, this is not the first time I’ve painted abstracts. In the creative process that has lasted almost 35 years, there have been many times that I’ve come close to this art direction. When I was younger, I painted abstracts because my colleagues painted abstracts. Further into my career, from the end of the ‘50s to the beginning of the ‘70s, Western influences in art flowed freely into South Viet Nam, which was ravaged by civil war. For young artists, those new influences provided a very appealing shelter. You could say that the chase of the new was a way for us to run from our reality of that time period, a reality that was incredibly cruel and bloody.

This art direction was old to the West but new to us. It was abstract, surreal, animalistic, etc. Personally, it helped me to go beyond reality, and to attain a sense of eternity. But the art that was being painted at the time didn’t make sense to anyone, not even to the painter. When the painting was completed, the painter usually tried very hard to find a title that was mysterious, elegant, different. In all honesty, it was all for show, an empty show. To give you an example, the art produced at the time had names like “The Brilliant Darkness” (How can a darkness be brilliant?), “Pain of the Seaweed” (How can an algae hurt?), “The Sound of Silence” (Is this a project of meditators?). However, at that time, even though I told no one, I was secretly elated. I thought that was the way of intellect and modernity. What an insecure wreck I was then!

My youth passed, and thus my ridiculous excessiveness left with it, eventually. I realized that true beauty is not old or new, realistic or surrealistic, concrete or abstract. The main goal of art is very simple: to highlight beauty. All genres and forms are just vehicles to take us to this goal. And in order for us to achieve this goal, we need practice. In short, painting is like most other genres of creativity. Besides the artist’s talent, he needs to constantly commit himself to discipline: working and learning. Art is an endless journey. As long as I am still alive, I’m still drawing, I’m still practicing.

After many years living outside of Viet Nam, I’ve gotten older and my soul has calmed down much more. I feel closer to Eastern philosophies, especially Buddhism. I wasn’t raised a Buddhist. I understand Buddhist theories as life philosophies, not as a religion. In 2002, at my exhibition to commemorate the 12th anniversary of Hop Luu, the literary journal I founded, I had painted a few pieces inspired by Buddhism. These pieces leaned in the direction of abstracts because I felt that abstracts were the only way for me to explore the underlying layers of intellect.