Boi Tran, "The Elegants Of Hué", 2015, or The Inevitable Choice of Distinction Against Fate
In the hush that follows ruin, some shout; others whisper. Boi Tran paints.
The Élégantes de Hue, seven women in flowing áo dài, do not ask to be seen; they endure, as Hue endured. Wounded, quiet, and radiant. Their grace is not spectacle but sanctuary: a gentleness held intact against time, against grief.
When Melchior Dejouany began his journey into Vietnamese art, it was not grandeur that called to him, but a single, luminous painting by Boi Tran. A silence filled with soul. She does not compete with the masters in his collection, Nguyen Gia Tri, Le Pho, Vu Cao Dam; she converses with them, in the language of restraint, of rain-soaked gardens, of women whose elegance is their resistance.
Among lacquer and legacy, her work is not loud. It is lasting.
Boi Tran (Vietnam, B. 1957), "The Elegants Of Hué", 2015. Lacquer on panel (tetratych). Each: 160 x 80 cm. (62 63/64 x 31 1/2 in.); overall: 160 x 320 cm. (62 63/64 x 125 63/64 in.). Exhibited in The Phoenix Glue and the Broken Silk Thread: Important Vietnamese Artworks from the Melchior Dejouany Collection on 8-13 June 2024 at Christie's in Paris
By 1975, the entire Hué region had regained its silence, the wounds were still wide open. As the pivotal point between North and South, Hué was constantly bombed and fought over during the Civil War.
Martyrdom and apocalypse.
What can you do when you've got nothing left? Not even a photo of your childhood. When, since childhood, you've been exposed to the bitter, insistent death that has already taken your loved ones away from you?
Never be subjected to it. Never. Never complain.
In Vietnam, everyone fought in the war. Not everyone won.
Later, after the hardships, slowly listen to the birdsong again, to drink green tea, to gently endure the rain and take care of your family. Paying homage to her son, who died far too soon, and smiling.
Always smiling. As a proud 18th-generation descendant of Ha Tinh generalissimo Phan Quang Minh (1350-1454) and one of his 6 sons, Phan Huu Gia, who settled just south of what was not yet Hué in 1438.
Painting, like a mantra. Always the same people, the same gestures, the same garden. A creed without liturgy.
Our majestic lacquer depicts 7 (not 8...) young women in ao dai.
Charming by virtue of their skilfully maintained distance, rather than their voluptuousness, as in Nguyen Trung, Boi Tran's master. More introverted, almost austere, blending into the vegetation.
In the distance, on the left, a nha san, a minority house that the artist is saving from destruction. Further right, a nha ruong, a traditional Kinh house, made entirely of wood like the previous one. And the garden gate.
In Hué.
A closed world in the hills.
Distinction, the absolute weapon against fate.
Like sharing a piece of eternity.
Jean-François Hubert
Senior Expert, Art of Vietnam
Excerpted from The Phoenix's Glue and the Broken Silk Thread: Major Vietnamese Works from the Melchior Dejouany Collection, Christie’s Paris, 8-13 June, 2024
