Oil and Lacquer

“So, what do you want to know?” Bac Liem asked me.

“I want to know the root of it all,” I replied.

“All foreigners want to know that, but not even Vietnamese people know the answer to that. You need to go to Hanoi. Ho Chi Minh City doesn’t have any technique. The people in Hanoi know what they’re doing. I used to hate Hanoi, and then I went to Hanoi, and now I’m scared of Hanoi. When someone askes you what you are here, and you say, ‘I’m an artist,’ they think you’re crazy. When you’re in Hanoi and you say you’re an artist, they are afraid of you. That is Hanoi. There is something in their blood; that is why they won against the Americans. Tradition never dies up there.”

I nodded.

He continued, “Lacquer painting originates from ancient Vietnamese art. At first it was used to make decorative paintings for the altar. Then, Nguyen Sang and Nguyen Gia Tri incorporated this medium into four dimensions. Do you know who they are?”

I shook my head no.

“They are two of the fathers of Vietnamese modern art. Four dimensions, like music. You can feel it all around you. Before them, everything was flat. Then they put space into Vietnamese art.”

Bac Liem slowly rubbed his hand around his whole face.

“They did this at the Ecole des Beaux-Art in Hanoi. I was one of their close friends. Nguyen Sang is better than Nguyen Gia Tri. Nguyen Gia Tri is a good craftsman. Would you like to see a painting by Nguyen Sang?”

My eyes lit up, and I nodded my head yes.

“Look on that wall, that is a painting by Nguyen Sang, oil on canvas. It is a painting of my wife who you met outside. The one over there is a painting on silk.”

I looked at the two paintings.

“Would you like to see a lacquer painting by Nguyen Sang?”

I shook my head yes.

Bac Liem turned a panel around. There, was one of the most famous images in Vietnamese paintings, two sumo wrestlers. I touched the painting and marveled at the black contour. “This is an amazing black line, how did he get it that soft and dark at the same time?”

Bac Liem replied, “That is Nguyen Sang. Do not always use lacquer to paint. Sometimes, use the wood. Use gum arabic to block off some of the areas and then wash it off later. Then, you will after a deep black such as that, because it is the black of the wood.”

“Would you like to see more paintings?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He pulled out another silk painting and an oil painting version of the sumo wrestlers. “What kind of feelings do get from the paintings?” he asked me.

“I don’t get any feeling from just looking at one,” I replied, “but I think that there is something going on with his grey. Actually, I think that Nguyen Sang is saying something with his greys, more so than he is saying something with his subject matter. The subject matters: your wife, women, and sumo wrestlers are important, but not as important as the grey. When you look outside, the weather in Vietnam makes everything grey. It’s so humid. I really think that there is something lingering in the grey.”

Bac Liem nodded with approval of my answer. “Nguyen Sang painted contour,” he said.

I responded, “I think he’s tricking you. He’s a lot like Matisse. He uses these colors to trick you into thinking that there is space. Really, he takes care of his edges so that you believe that there is space. But really, he’s just playing with color.”

Bac Liem said, “Good, you’re smart.” He looked at my uncles who were sitting with us and said, “She’s smart.”

One of my uncles said, “You know, she had to battle endlessly with her parents to let her make art.”

Bac Liem responded, “I would never let my child become an artist. Art is important, but I would never left my son become an artist. An artist’s life is a life of suffering. You are always poor. You will never have money. No, never. Never my child an artist. Know art, but never go deep into art.” He turned and looked at me.

I smirked and said, “I’m sorry, sir, but I might be a little deep.”

Bac Liem smirked back and extended his hand to me and said, “Would you like to be my apprentice?”

I naturally said yes.