When elephants sense that their end is near, they make their way to the Elephant Graveyard — a secret place no outsider may ever set foot in.
To humans, it is a legendary treasure, known only by name, forever unseen.
-
-
Đã bán
When elephants know their time has come, they return to the Elephant Graveyard — a secret place, untouched by outsiders.
To humankind, it is a fabled treasure, known only by name, its face forever hidden. -
An escape from reality, in an imagined vision of the afterlife.
Beyond Red, lies Blue.The forest is not merely a cluster of plants, but a world unto itself — where life intertwines, overlaps, and layers upon itself like an endless canopy of green domes. In this place, green is not just a color, but a breath, a movement, a whisper of mysteries.
I once stood in such a forest, feeling overwhelmed by the grandeur of nature, where everything grows and pulses within its own order — a realm where humans can only stand by and quietly observe.Amid that lush, engulfing green, Red appeared — a lone red dot, adrift yet steadfast. It did not merely pass through the forest, but merged into its rhythm, becoming part of its breath.
The solitary gaps between thick foliage felt like “sky wells” — rare windows through which humans could peer into the forest and witness the secret world within.
What happens in there? Who is watching whom — am I looking into the forest, or is the forest looking back at me?This trio of works does not tell a linear story, but suggests a journey.
Red does not just wander through the forest, but also journeys through the viewer’s perception — guiding them into a wordless world, where color, light, and shadow speak for themselves. -
"Thầy tớ thong dong dạo cảnh chùa,Cầm thi lưng túi rượu lưng hồ.Cá khe lắng kệ đầu ngơ ngác,Chim núi nghe kinh cổ gật gù.Then cửa từ bi nêm chật cánh,Nén hương tế độ cắm đầy lô.Nhà sư ướm hỏi nhà sư tử,Phúc đức nhà đây được mấy bồ."- Hồ Xuân Hương's poemDraw a scene of a man and woman visiting the temple to pray for wealth and love 😌
-
Đã bán
Hương Tích Cave was one of the first majestic landscapes etched into my childhood mind — vivid enough to return, again and again, in my dreams.
It was also the first time I experienced a recurring dream. I must have been only three or four years old then, dreaming of a vast cavern. The cave walls weren’t made of stone, but of skinned human bodies.
There was no gore, no blood — the flesh glowed like pink tourmaline, and the bodies were still breathing, rising and falling gently.In any case, it was a kind of nightmare, and after reliving it many times, I became truly afraid.
The cave even had a name. I went around asking everyone:
“Dad, Mom, big brother — where is Đống Xương Động?”Of course, they brushed it off as nonsense.
The funny thing is, I had already figured out how to reverse words in the Sino-Vietnamese way — probably from watching Journey to the West a bit too much. That kind of naming went hand in hand with dreamy, faraway places like Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, Water Curtain Cave, or Flowing Sands River, and so on.
