Lan Dương is a Board Director of the Vietnamese American Arts and Letters Association (VAALA). Together with Trâm Lê, she is a co-curator of FOB II: Art Speaks. Her biography can be found online at VAALA’s website.

 

Da Màu: Do you try to change the community’s political beliefs, the way people view arts, or the way they view others that have different political beliefs?

Lan Dương: No, I don’t believe I can change the community’s political beliefs. I’m not sure I would be able to and want to. We set out to facilitate a dialogue not only amongst community members but also the community of artists who are here in the United States, in Viet Nam and elsewhere.

In terms of how people view the arts, I believe that the most enduring works speak multivalently; that is, good art provokes many responses and many interpretations. This is why I believe the controversial art we displayed elicited multiple responses, and not just anger. For example, we had many community members say that they were not offended by the work. One gentleman, in particular, expressed to me how important this exhibit was for the community. As I try to restate, we sincerely believe that the protestors are political activists within the community. We believe that this form of political activism establishes a political voice for the Vietnamese American community within American politics and powerfully demonstrates to the Vietnamese government that we have not forgotten.

But if these community members are political activists who must have a voice because the Vietnamese regime or a dominant culture will not allow them to have one, we as co-curators and arts advocates must also have a voice. This voice is not oppositional to the protestors’ but is rather coexistent with theirs.

 

Da Màu: Some people say that, what this exhibit has been doing is equivalent to showing a portrait of Hitler in the Jewish community, or that of Castro in the Cuban community. What do you think of these comparisons?

Lan Dương: To this, I would say that as a scholar who is deeply invested in a historical understanding of minority rights, I don’t think that our art exhibit was equivalent to putting up a portrait of Hitler or Castro in the Jewish and Cuban communities, respectively. The act of putting up a picture of Ho Chi Minh in the heart of the Vietnamese American community was already done by Truong Tran, the infamous video store owner who prominently displayed Ho Chi Minh’s portrait in his store. By doing this, Tran ensured that there would be protests because of what was predominantly seen as a celebration of communism. This, I believe, was an incitement to be protested against, however rightly or wrongly.

In contrast, as co-curators, Tram Le and I tried our best to feature as many voices in the exhibit as possible. We also provided context for each art work. Different from Truong Tran’s action, we featured a photograph within the space of an art exhibit. This photo was also supposed to be seen in conjunction with another picture, along with the artist’s statement. The photographs in question are ambiguous in meaning and are not meant to celebrate communism, but rather, can be seen as a critique of communism. For example, the photograph shows symbols that are emptied of their communist ideals and underlines the ways that they have been commodified for the youth in Viet Nam. The other controversial art work features two paintings: one of a southern Vietnamese flag with three strips of barbed wire and the other, which also simulated the three stripes, showed the different modes by which refugees escaped to flee a terrifying communist regime. In tandem, these works are meant to comment on the ways that we have fled a repressive regime – which the barbed wire calls attention to because it references the prisons and reeducation camps established by the northern Vietnamese – and how we have also enacted forms of self-censorship in the war’s aftermath in the U.S. Witness the ways in which national symbols such as the southern Vietnamese flag cannot be shown in any light but a positive one. With this room, we wanted to show how national symbols, while powerful and resonant, can be used to question what it means to be a part of a community and nation, for invariably, they ask the questions, whose community and whose nation?

Further, we cordoned off the politically sensitive material in an upstairs room called “The Black Room.” We offered bilingual descriptions for the room. We tried to organize panels, put up our curators’ statements (in Vietnamese and English) online, and conducted walk-throughs with various people so that they may see and understand our objectives. In fact, we wanted to include the protestors’ voices in the exhibit but could not because of legal complications. We regret that this room had never actualized. In all, the exhibit was 7 months in the planning, and we feel that we did present a diverse array of political expressions within the community. From the beginning, we wanted to show how art is a reflection of the community and how the community reflects the art. Through our call for entry, which was circulated in the community and abroad, we solicited the artwork from the community members themselves and we went through a submission process of three months before making our final selections.

 

Da Màu: Is being hurt a legitimate cause for cultural or political oppressions in the community?

Lan Dương: I hear this term often – that somehow we “hurt” the community. I believe that we did our best to mitigate the pain and suffering that many people in the community feel by soliciting their opinions and participation respectfully. There were other ways that we also tried to provide context and historical background for what we were doing. We tried to honor the refugee story through a predominant display of first generation artists and their works in the exhibit. I have no doubt that there is so much trauma that the Vietnamese diaspora has undergone since 1975. I know because my family and I are part of this traumatic history. However, I think that many community members are also hurting in different ways – through sexual trauma, domestic abuse, and poverty. They are not unrelated to the aftermath of war, which means that trauma must also refer to the pain and suffering that goes on behind closed doors, is not always performed as public spectacles, and does not insist that a nationalist form of trauma is the only one that matters. This is why it was so important for us as co-curators to bring up other notions of politics within the exhibit: the politics of sexuality, gender, youth culture, and racism in a post 9/11 context.

 

Da Màu: In your curatorial statement, when you mention “the war that burns inside our own borders,” you seem to imply that there are conflicts and, possibly, warring factions. Can you elaborate on these?

Lan Dương: Thank you for noting this. The war I refer to is the war amongst community members and the kinds of dichotomous political beliefs of anti-communism and communism that perpetuate a climate of fear. We do not mean to say that this war and the divisiveness within the community could be and should be appropriated by the communist state. If anything, we mean to lodge a critique against the repression of artists here and in Viet Nam. If we, as a community, show to the Vietnamese state that there is strength in a large and diverse overseas community, then the community would have a stronger political base from which to operate. As it stands, the silencing tactics used by this vocal faction of the community – ones that seek to intimidate and berate – only work to alienate those in the community who cross the boundaries of age, class, gender, and sexual orientations.

 

Da Màu: Many in the Vietnamese American community see a war going on, with the communists trying to infiltrate the overseas communities, and they, in their turn, have to defend against all the ongoing attacks. Does that justify the community’s inclusion or exclusion of some political beliefs?

Lan Dương: I truly understand this position but if the exhibit were seen in its totality, I would have hoped that community members here would understand that we are not young people who do not understand our history and thus are easily indoctrinated by the communists. This operates upon the premise that younger generations are weak and the communists are too strong. This idea does not help to facilitate any dialogue because it relies on a culture of fear.

We have attempted to provide as much historical context as possible as to how we came as a people to the United States and other countries. We tried to ask that community members share their pain and history in this forum. We have tried to make a larger commentary on the larger structures of power that have forced us to counter one another. For we, as Vietnamese Americans, have no solid platform upon which to speak either here in the U.S. or in Viet Nam, two countries that are working together to reconcile the past through political and economic means. However, these new relations between the U.S. and Viet Nam do not account for the war dead and traumatic memories of those who came from southern and central Viet Nam after the war had ended and who had suffered under the communist regime. As much as I disagree with this faction of the community politically, I understand their need to have their voices heard – especially within a larger American context where they are seen as non-articulate, fanatical, unruly, and barbaric. Yet, despite this, I do not agree that the community in the U.S. needs to silence art and politics for the sake of taking a stance against the Vietnamese government. In order to effect better political representation in the U.S., it is necessary to gather a larger political bloc. To do exactly this, we must recognize that there is diversity within this community.

 

Da Màu: Why do you say that we have been seen as “faceless” in the mainstream media?

Lan Dương: I refer to the ways that American mainstream films have rendered us as “faceless” — when we have served as part of a beautiful backdrop, as exotic women and prostitutes, as victims and refugees, and as gun-toting soldiers. Within this context, southern Vietnamese soldiers, unfortunately, are hardly accounted for because a dominant American culture doesn’t like to deal with losers, or those who lost to communism.

 

Da Màu: You have mentioned a “larger political base.” What is it? Does it include socialism or communism?

Lan Dương: No, it does not include socialism or communism. I mean a larger political base here in the U.S. where it matters to have constituencies who move together towards key political issues like human rights and work with one another to struggle against war and empire. At the same time, within this political bloc, we can recognize that we hold different understandings of what it means to be a part of a community.

 

Da Màu: Where we are going as a community with or without diversity?

Lan Dương: With diversity, we can move towards a progressive politics that would promote art and literature as the means by which we need to express ourselves. This type of politics would not work on the bases of exclusion but rather inclusion.

 

Da Màu: In your announcement to close the exhibit, you write, “Ultimately, we have achieved our goals and feel accomplished for facilitating as much dialogue as possible in having this exhibit.  We would like to say that it has truly been a celebration of art.” Do you really feel the exhibit is an accomplishment?

Lan Dương: Yes, I do on many levels. In terms of our goals, we have facilitated dialogue between community members. We have effected different notions of art, politics and community. I have witnessed and been part of conversations that are meaningful. They have occurred in ways that are not easily recorded or do not make good news events. I know for certain that community and family members are speaking about this community’s identity in ways that did not happen before. I believe that although we were shut down early for reasons that were out of our control, what we did as a collective body with the exhibit is to provide a forum for artists and community members to express themselves – in the way in which they wanted to – both in terms of protest and art.

Lastly, I wanted to speak about how we were forced to shut down. On the 16^th, we were planning to have a press conference to tell protestors that we would close down a day early out of respect for their voices and the trauma they experienced because of a history of war and violence. However, the night before, we were also notified that we had to close down the exhibit because of city regulations. We believe that the shutdown was politically motivated.

Ultimately this is why we stated two simultaneous reasons for the shutdown: because of the city and because of the groups of protestors and to acknowledge their pain and suffering.

In closing the exhibit, we would like to restate for further clarification: We did not take down anyone’s work to appease the protestors. We will not, now or ever, apologize for having organized the exhibit.

If you are interested in understanding more about the exhibit, participate in the conversation, and see the works on display, please see our website at vaala.org.