Reimagining Vietnamese women identity
By Ian Tee

Midpoint is a monthly series that invites established Southeast Asian contemporary artists to take stock of their career thus far, reflect upon generational shifts and consider the advantages and challenges of working in the present day. It is part of A&M Dialogues and builds upon the popular Fresh Faces series.

Born in 1979 in Hanoi, Vietnam, Le Hien Minh’s work blends socio-historical and mystical themes with pressing social concerns. For more than two decades, the artist has reimagined traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper in contemporary ways, honouring its history while offering new perspectives on its future. The female experience is the core of Minh’s practice, through which she maps the various historical and cultural forces that shape modern life. Her work has been presented at the Vietnam National Museum of Fine Arts in Hanoi, ‘Sculpture Expanded’ by the Association of Finnish Sculptors in Finland, the Fukuoka Asian Art Museum in Japan, and the Hyde Park Art Center in Chicago, among others.

Le Hien Minh, ‘Production of Man’, 2016, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer table, glass jar, dry powder pigment, dimensions variable. Installation view, ‘Hạt | Tim’ (2016), Dia Projects, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam. Image courtesy of the artist.

Looking back, could you share a decision or event that marked a significant turn/moment in your path as an artist?

I would say there have been three significant moments in my career. The first was in my mid-20s when I received a scholarship to study art in the United States of America (US) for two years. My time in the US as a student had a deep impact on my artistic mindset. It was there that I began developing my own distinct artistic vision. I grew up in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, in the 1980s and studied traditional lacquer at the Ho Chi Minh University of Fine Arts in the late 1990s. My art education was heavily influenced by Socialist Realism, which focused on community-driven values. This is totally different than in the U.S. art education which is all about self-expression. That contrast between the Socialist tradition’s focus on the collective and the American emphasis on the individual, still shapes the way I approach my art practice today.

The second significant moment was in 2016 when I exhibited a large-scale installation called ‘The Production of Man (Ball Revisited)’ in Ho Chi Minh City. This installation used several Vietnamese cultural objects to critique longstanding gender norms. This work sparked significant controversy as it pointed out the intense societal pressure on Vietnamese women to produce male heirs. It offered insight into the entrenched gender roles and their interconnectedness with power structures and societal hierarchies within my culture. This exhibition marked a turning point in my career, as it solidified my commitment to centring the female experience and [her]stories in my work. Since then, I have remained dedicated to this focus, and my goal is to raise my voice on this subject even more.

The third big turning point came in 2022 when I moved from Ho Chi Minh City to Chicago. The past two years in the US transformed my art practice. I am still in the middle of it, so it is hard to put into words. Time will bring clarity. Maybe in a few years, I will have a better answer.

Le Hien Minh, ‘Divine Feminine’, 2019, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statues, wooden lacquer tables, gold leaf, dimensions variable. Installation view, ‘Sculpture Expanded – Moving Laboratory of Public Art’ (2019), Allas Sea Pool, Helsinki, Finland. Photo by Jussi Tianen. Image courtesy of the artist.

When have been milestone achievements for you as artists, and why have they been particularly memorable? (This could relate to goals you set out to achieve, recognition at home/abroad through a particular exhibition/publication etc.)

2019 was a big year for me. I had two major exhibitions, one in Helsinki, Finland, and another in Fukuoka, Japan, both featuring large-scale public works. In Helsinki, I showed ‘Divine Feminine’ (2019), an installation displayed in various public spaces, from city parks to the port of Helsinki, for six months. That same year, another installation called ‘The States of Mind’ (2019) was exhibited at Myorakuji Temple, a historic Buddhist site in Fukuoka dating back to 1316.

Showing large-scale works in public, non-traditional spaces instead of galleries or museums sparked my interest in reaching a broader audience, especially people who might not usually engage with art.

Le Hien Minh, ‘The States of Mind’ from the ‘Five Questions’ series (2019–ongoing), 2019, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, polystyrene, acrylic, dimensions variable. Installation view, ‘The States of Mind’ (2019), Myorakuji Temple, Fukuoka, Japan. Photo by Greg Jewett. Image courtesy of the artist.

Could you walk us through a typical work day, or a typical week? What routine do you follow to nourish yourself/your artistic practice?

I am currently an Adjunct Professor at the School of Art & Art History at the University of Illinois, Chicago. My week is split between teaching and spending time in the studio, working on a new series. I would not say I have a set routine to nourish myself or my practice, but I have always believed in the power of hard work. It is the one thing that has consistently pushed me forward, helping me grow and reach my goals as an artist.

Could you describe your studio/workspace? How has it evolved over the years? What do you enjoy about it, and what do you wish to improve?

I like to keep my studio space clean and minimal. When visitors come in, they are often surprised, and their first reaction is almost always, “Oh, your studio is very clean.” I do not typically listen to music while working; I prefer audiobooks read with a calm voice. I often re-listen to the same book many times, and each time, I discover something new that I had not noticed before. My studio is a quiet space for me, a place where I can calm my mind and fully focus on my artwork, without distraction.

Le Hien Minh, ‘Blessed Lady of the Nail’, 2024, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, acrylic, resin, wooden base, 74 x 31.5 x 32.5cm. Photo by Mia. Image courtesy of the artist.

What has become easier or more difficult to do as time has gone by?

Over the past two decades, my practice has evolved significantly. The first half of my career focused on exploring personal history, while the second half has been dedicated entirely to socially engaged projects. In these works, I draw from a wide range of references, including historical, cultural, and spiritual iconography. My sources span archaeology, mythology, and religion, and I often incorporate found objects, each chosen with a clear purpose. I bring these elements together to create layered works that function on multiple levels of meaning.

Whenever I develop a body of work, there is always a larger conceptual framework shaping it. Each individual piece within that body has its own distinct concept, but there are also layers of subtext, some subtle, others more direct. Over time, my references have deepened within specific cultural contexts while also broadening across different fields of research. Since I exhibit internationally, one of my biggest challenges is ensuring that these references connect with audiences beyond their original cultural origins. I want people to engage with my work, but I also do not want to over-explain.

As my work becomes more ambitious, the challenges only grow, but I see that as a good thing. After all, what is so compelling about artwork that is too easy to understand?

Le Hien Minh, ‘The Gods of Expectation’ from the ‘Five Questions’ series (2019–ongoing), 2021, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, wooden lacquer statues, washing machine, metal kitchen sink, metal faucet, wooden lacquer tables, wooden lacquer bed, polypropylene tube. Dimensions variable. Installation view, ‘Within / Between / Beneath / Upon’ (2021), The Factory Contemporary Arts Center, Ho Chi Minh city, Vietnam. Photo by Tri Nguyen. Image courtesy of the artist.

‘Five Questions’ (2019-) is a series of interactive sculptures you have been working on since 2019. Briefly, could you talk about the series’ evolution over the years? What is the trajectory of this project going into the future?

The ‘Five Questions’ series is a collection of interactive installations where I invite audiences to engage with five core questions: Who is Woman? What is Woman? Where is Woman? Why is Woman? When is Woman? Their responses become part of the artwork itself, transforming it into an ever-evolving platform for dialogue. With every new interaction, the conversation deepens, adding new dimensions to the discourse.

While each artwork within the ‘Five Questions’ series has its own distinct concept, they all use the same five questions to generate dialogue. This interactive approach marks a significant shift in my practice, moving from personal critique to a broader, community-driven exchange. This transition reflects my commitment to critically examining societal norms through collective reflection.

Right now, I am working on publishing all the responses I have gathered over the years, from multiple countries and in different languages.

Le Hien Minh, ‘Ornamentalism’, 2022–2024, installation view, ‘A Village Before Us’ (2023), John David Mooney Foundation, Chicago, U.S. Left to right: ‘Nail Women’, ‘Blessed Lady of the Nail’, ‘Minority Model’, ‘Invisible Dragon’. Photo by Laurel Hauge. Image courtesy of the artist.

What do you think has been/is your purpose? Has your purpose remained steadfast or evolved over the years?

Since 2016, my work has been centred on the female experience and [her]stories. Every so often, people ask me why I focus on this, sometimes with the assumption that it is no longer relevant. Some even argue that women’s issues are not urgent in today’s world.

I could not disagree more. Women’s issues are not just important, they are fundamental, deeply woven into the fabric of our societies, economies, and cultural narratives. This is not just about gender equity; it is about building a more sustainable and just world for everyone. But beyond my personal beliefs, I see my role as an artist as one that challenges existing perceptions. My job is to disrupt, to awaken, and to provoke reflection.

The reality is that, on a global scale, women’s contributions to art and culture have been systematically overlooked or erased. I am interested in translating political values into aesthetic ones, using my work to push back against this historical erasure. I am doing my part to dismantle this systemic marginalisation.

“I am interested in translating political values into aesthetic ones, using my work to push back against this historical erasure. I am doing my part to dismantle this systemic marginalisation.”

What do you think were the unique advantages and disadvantages you had when you were an emerging artist? Would you be able to comment on how you think this compares to the set of opportunities and challenges that artists have in Vietnam today?

I do not think of myself in terms of these labels, and I also do not think of other artists that way. To me, what matters most is the artwork itself and whether it can move or inspire.

Contemporary artists in Vietnam face a lot of challenges. The infrastructure for contemporary art is barely there, with no art schools for contemporary art, no significant institutional support, and no established contemporary art museums to serve as models.

Because the scene is still so underdeveloped, a handful of gatekeepers end up holding significant influence. For example, when curators from outside Vietnam look for artists, they often rely on a few insiders for introductions. These gatekeepers might favour certain artists based on personal preference, creating a cycle where the same names keep getting opportunities. Of course, this is not unique to Vietnam, forms of gatekeeping exist in art scenes worldwide. However, in a place with so few structures to support contemporary arts, the effects feel more pronounced. This form of gatekeeping can reinforce barriers and limit the development of a sustainable ecosystem for contemporary arts.

And yet, despite all of this, Vietnam’s contemporary art scene is alive and thriving. Creativity keeps pushing through, proving that even in the face of these constraints, artists are finding ways to evolve, challenge the system, and make an impact.

Le Hien Minh, ‘Apocalypse Nail’, 2024, traditional Vietnamese handmade Dó paper, bioplastic, 24K gold paint, 38.5 x 115 x 15.5cm. Installation view, ‘Disobedient Bodies: Reclaiming Her’ (2025), Sundaram Tagore Gallery, Singapore. Image courtesy of the artist and Sundaram Tagore Gallery.

Are there any upcoming exhibitions/ projects you wish to share?

I have two solo exhibitions coming up in Chicago this year, along with several group shows in different parts of the US, so 2025 is shaping up to be a busy year.

Right now, I am working on an exciting body of work that takes a critical look at how American pop culture has impacted Vietnamese female identity. It includes both sculpture and moving images, pulling from a wide range of influences, such as Hollywood films, American pop music, Vietnam War iconography, and traditional Vietnamese motifs. I weave all these elements together to create powerful objects that radiate an otherworldly aura. I view this new work through a surrealist and metaphysical lens, blending fantasy and nightmare to create artwork both alluring and unsettling.

And finally, what would be a key piece of advice to young art practitioners? What has been a way of working, a certain kind of attitude etc. they can learn from to apply to their own careers?

At this moment, my advice to young artists would be: “Find your people, the ones that believe in what you are doing, and don’t get discouraged by the naysayers. Your art is not going to please everyone, and it is also not your responsibility to do so.”