A sculpture by Nguyễn Như Ý. VNS Photos Bảo Long

By Bảo Long

On the walls of the Việt Nam University of Fine Arts on Yết Kiêu Street, Hà Nội, passersby can see large paintings and wooden sculptures displayed as part of a solo exhibition by painter-sculptor Nguyễn Như Ý.

Painter Ý's works revolve around men and women

Like the chipped wood of his sculptures, Ý's story is one of fragility and resilience, a testament to the power of art to transcend personal tragedy.

The experiences of love, loss, and profound grief permeate Ý’s art.

Whether depicting the tender embrace of lovers or the solitude of a single figure, his works are imbued with raw emotion.

Often, amidst scenes of apparent happiness, ghostly figures lurk, visually manifesting the underlying pain that shadows both his life and his art.

As Ý himself reflects, "A picture is more appealing than reality."

Love and loss

Ý’s art is born from the crucible of love and loss.

Within the art community, he is known for his peculiar, instinctive, and unrestrained character—a trait that manifests in his instantly recognisable artistic style.

"My themes invariably revolve around men and women. They are the central figures, with children, animals, and supernatural elements appearing subsequently. Love to ensure the survival of humanity. Portraying the joy of life," Ý said.

Yet, beneath this celebration of love, a deeper current of pain flows.

Painter Ý relaxes in his studio.

His life has been marked by a series of intense yet ultimately tragic relationships.

A college romance with a woman became a defining obsession.

Hùng Cọ, a collector who once owned a picture frame shop near the university, recalled Ý’s devotion: "He was head over heels for this girl; he even tutored her to get into the school. I remember he ran 36km from his house to the Fine Arts school just to see her. That guy was incredible."

But the relationship ended bitterly, plunging Ý into a deep depression.

“They split up, and he became so down, so bitter,” Hùng said. “He’s very sensitive. She left him for someone else, and that’s what sent him into a depression. He had a breakdown while he was in school. He took two years off.”

Some attributed his leaving school to heartbreak; others to a mental breakdown. The truth, perhaps, remains known only to Ý.

After this first heartbreak, Ý found solace with another petite woman suffering from the lingering effects of Agent Orange—a devastating defoliant used during the US war in Việt Nam. Despite societal judgment, Ý cared for her deeply, working tirelessly to meet her medical needs and gathering materials for his art.

'His works possess a raw, unfiltered quality that is both captivating and unsettling,' said art critic Phan Cẩm Thượng.

Hùng recalled a glimpse of their brief happiness: "They were such a happy couple. He'd dug a little pond to keep climbing perch, and she was just as cheerful, always eager to help. I remember once, she’d caught a piglet and deep-fried it to welcome me. It was a simple meal, but it was filled with so much warmth."

This fleeting joy was shattered when the woman vanished, leaving Ý to wander the city in despair. “I wandered the city, drunk and lost, with the hope to find her,” Ý said.

Then, a car accident resulted in the loss of his leg, compounding his losses.

Artistic devotion and communal embrace

Despite the hardships he has endured, Ý remains dedicated to his art.

He is indifferent to material wealth, content with a roof over his head, a drink in hand, and a brush to paint.

Hùng Cọ described him as "very carefree; he blows all his money and then deals with the consequences later. So he doesn't suffer at all, he's never plagued by guilt. When he's got money, he feasts; when he's broke, he just goes without."

This carefree nature, combined with his artistic talent, has earned him the unwavering support of his community.

His professor, the renowned art critic Phan Cẩm Thượng, played a crucial role in his return to art after the first heartbreak, offering both support and encouragement.

Friends and family have also rallied around him, providing practical, emotional, and financial support. As his former classmate Lê Mạnh Trường poignantly said, “I just want him to be able to draw.”

This support culminated in a solo exhibition of 70 of his works in 2012, organised by the devoted collector Phạm Đức Sĩ.

Between acclaim and uncertainty

Ý’s art, with its raw emotionality and unconventional style, has garnered both praise and a degree of misunderstanding.

Trường praised Ý's unique depictions of Thánh Gióng (Saint Gióng), saying: "His paintings were unlike anything I'd ever seen.”

In Ý works, he expresses beneath a celebration of love, a deeper current of pain flows.

Thánh Gióng portrays a kid named Gióng who becomes a giant and rides an iron horse, leading his villagers to fight against foreign invaders.

He further compared Ý's work to the more intellectual approaches of other artists, highlighting the artist's ability to convey raw, unfiltered emotion.

Art critic Thượng said; “His works possess a raw, unfiltered quality that is both captivating and unsettling.”

However, the question of long-term recognition remains. While some see the purchase of his art as an act of charity, others believe in its intrinsic value.

An anonymous buyer’s unfinished sentence, "Just buy it, someday, it will be worth…," hangs in the air, a testament to this uncertainty.

Hùng Cọ, who has collected Ý’s work for over 20 years, has sold some pieces to foreign tourists, but a significant portion of his collection remains.

Ý’s brother, Nguyễn Xuân Sơn, said: “Recently, as his health has declined, Ý has stopped sculpting and spends most of his time painting.”

The primal instinct of longing for happiness is still evident in his later works, with couples clinging to each other in passionate embraces.

Now older and frailer, the chances of Ý finding lasting happiness may have diminished.

The faded paintings on the cracked walls of the Fine Arts University poignantly remind us of time's fleeting nature and the precariousness of artistic recognition.

Yet, among those who know and love Ý and his art, there is a deep hope that his powerful and evocative work will live on. VNS