This writing is a recollection of strictly personal memories
covering a span of over half a century about Nghiêu Đề, a friend in lean-days.
The author does not belong to the circle of artists and therefore cannot write
authoritatively about a gifted painter whose works though limited in number
have left indelible marks in the painting arts of Vietnam during his most
creative decades of the 1960s and 1970s. He was one of the outstanding founders
of the Vietnamese Young Artists Association.
Nghiêu Đề’s Life
Nghiêu Đề was
born in 1939 in Quảng Ngãi. His real name is Nguyễn Tiếp but he went by the
nick name of Trai at home. The oldest son of a family with six siblings, he
attended but did not graduate from the Cao đẳng Mỹ thuật Gia Ðịnh/National
School of Fine Arts in Gia Định. Nghiêu Đề was one of the founding members of the Vietnamese Young
Artists Association and a Silver Medalist of the 1961 National Spring Art Exhibition
in Vietnam. He had participated in many art shows overseas and also tried his
hand at poetry and writing. An endeavor he later considered as a “misstep” he
should not have taken. His book Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm was published in 1965. Nghiêu Ðề came to the
United States with his family in 1985 and passed away on the 9th of
November, 1998 in San Diego, California in his late fifties.
In
August of this year (2014) when Trịnh Cung still resided in the U.S., I
suggested that he wrote an article about his “old” friend Nghiêu Đề. Trịnh Cung
agreed to do it in November to commemorate Nghiêu Đề’s 16th
anniversary. Regrettably, in the November issue of the Da Màu magazine, there
was only a brief introduction and two of Nghiêu Đề’s paintings reproduced from
the book titled “Nghiêu Đề” published by Viet Art Society. Trịnh Cung explained
he could not do a better job because he did not have enough materials to work
with.
I
was not at all surprised about the “void” surrounding Nghiêu Đề, a friend who
all through his life showed an aversion to hold on to any material possession.
The legacy he left behind can be compared to bird tracks being washed away by
the waves of time as soon as they are left on the sand. Very early on, he never
showed any sustained interest in making and keeping a name for himself. On the
other hand, his friend artist Đinh Cường, maintains a large collection of
materials about his works, like a personal museum, that not many of his
colleagues can emulate.
In
this article, borrowing the manner of speech peculiar to artist Khánh Trường,
like an antique collector, I try to recollect, revive past memories I had
shared with my all-weather friend Nghiêu Đề.
Nghiêu Đề and friends
In
my first year of medical school, unlike my classmates who devoted their time to
study, far from being an exemplary student, I preferred to work as a
correspondent or hang around with Nghiêu Đề and his circle of artist friends.
For some unknown reasons, we were as close to as we were different from each
other. Nghiêu Đề stuck to a bohemian lifestyle and surrounded himself with a
tight-knit group of young friends early on. The Bùi Viện neighborhood, near the “international” intersection, was our
favorite haunt. Our bunch comprised of hidden talents waiting to be discovered.
Among the painters I can count:
Nguyễn Trung, Cù Nguyễn, Lâm Triết, Nguyên Khai; and in the literary group: Trần
Dạ Từ, Nguyễn Đức Sơn/ Sao Trên Rừng, Trần Tuấn Kiệt, Trần Đức Uyển/ Tú Kếu,
Nguyễn Nghiệp Nhượng, Nguyễn Thuỵ Long. In their individual ways, they all
shared a common passion for art. Prolific were they, early their works and
predestined their eventual success. Nghiêu Đề also had much older friends from
the staff of Bách Khoa magazine like Lê Ngộ Châu, Nguyễn Ngu í, Võ Phiến, Vũ Hạnh…
The Song of the Moon Bird
In
reply to a question posed by journalist Nguiễn Ngu í in the Tạp chí Bách Khoa/
Bách Khoa magazine issue No. 137 of September 15th, 1962, Nghiêu Đề told
this story as if he was dwelling in the clouds:
“... In my native
village, there is a strange bird with white plumage and fragile build that
often flies under the moonlight. People say it flies all the way to the moon
and never returns to earth. It is given the name of “Nguyệt” or “Moon” bird. Its song is extremely captivating. I do not know
why I am so enthralled by it. I can only say that each time it flies by, its
song moves me to no end. Now, I believe the Art that I yearn for is something
that comes naturally like the song of the Moon bird.”
Nghiêu
Đề at 16 standing in front of the Thương xá Tax/Tax Department Store, gone are
the man and place
From
center to right: Nguiễn Ngu í and Nghiêu
Đề
If you ask his friend poet Luân Hoán or any of his other friends
from his native Quảng no one can say he or she has ever seen the Moon bird or
heard its song. But all that is inconsequent. There will always be a lone Moon
bird white and fragile flying in a moonlit night. There will always be the
mythical Chú Cuội sitting at the foot of a banyan tree in the Cung Hằng. The
Moon bird will tirelessly soar high in the sky, lose itself in the moon to
never return again … could it be that this is the liberating world and also the
unending dream cherished by Nghiêu Đề.
The Trường Sơn print shop
Prior to the 1960s, typography remained the main technique used
by the printing shops in South Vietnam. Movable lead types retrieved from huge
bowls were used to compose forms for the printing press. The typesetters were
mostly Chinese from Cholon who did not know Vietnamese well but that did not
prevent them from doing their job at a dizzying speed. In those days, offset
printing was not widely in use yet. Nghiêu Đề and I frequently met at the
private print shop Cliché
Dầu to order plates of our book covers or his paintings.
Most of the print shops in Saigon congregated on Phạm Ngũ Lão Street. However,
the Trường Sơn shop owned by author Ms Nguyễn Thị Vinh was located on Nguyễn An
Ninh Street. The place was equipped with two large typo presses used to print
newspapers in addition to smaller machines including several pedal-operated
ones.
The publication Tình Thương of the Medical School, Đất Sống of
the Faculty of Pharmacy as well as Dương Kiền’s Văn Học were all published at
that place. Nghiêu Đề and I would go
there whenever we had to work on the book covers for the New Year issues he
designed.
Nghiêu Đề and the
book covers
Author Võ Phiến showed a special fondness for Nghiêu Đề. An
anecdote about the book Giã Từ: Võ Phiến asked Nghiêu Đề to design the cover
for his book. At that time, it’s difficult to come by beautiful letterings. As
a result, people had to buy American magazines from the kiosks on the sidewalks
of Lê Lợi Street to cut out the letters and use them as samples. Since Nghiêu Đề
was only interested in coming up with an artful design for the book cover he saw no need to add the
diacritical marks on the Vietnamese words
and left it to the imagination of the readers to read them the way they fancy
it. Thus, the book title Giã Từ could be
interpreted in several ways: Gia Tư, Giả Tu, Giả Tù, Giã Tự… the book was
published by Thời Mới and Nghiêu Đề received a special copy from Võ Phiến with
the special dedication: “This is the book
whose presentation the author likes the most”.
Any author who had a book about to be published would dream of having Nghiêu Đề do its cover. He never turned down anybody. But, to have the work done was a completely different thing. Poet Luân Hoán once wrote: “He’d do anything for his friends. It’s not in his nature to decline to work on anything pertaining to art. Nevertheless, don’t expect him to finish your book cover on the double. Nghiêu Đề works at his own pace and doesn’t like to be rushed or held accountable to anybody.” The New Year issues for Bách Khoa maganizine whose editor was Lê Ngộ Châu, or the monthly Tình Thương of the medical students were no strangers to long waits or missed deadlines from him.
Samples of book
covers by Nghiêu Đề: Mây Bão (1963, 1993), Bóng Đêm (1964).
Cửu Long Cạn Dòng
Biển Đông Dậy Sóng: painting by Nghiêu Đề,
Cover by Khánh Trường
(2000)
The covers of my four books: Mây Bão (1963), Bóng Đêm (1964),
Gió Mùa (1975), and Vòng Đai Xanh (1971) were the products of Nghiêu Đề’s
handiwork.
There was a rare and short period Nghiêu Đề proved very prolific. Besides working on his
paintings he also did the designs and illustrations for the major books put out
by Cảo Thơm Publishing House. Among them was Nguyễn Tuân’s work “Vang Bóng Một Thời”. After 1975, on his visit to Saigon, that
author showed great pleasure and appreciation while holding in his hands his
book strikingly designed by Nghiêu Đề and published in the South.
The Minh Mạng Dormitory and
Nghiêu Đề’s painting
Prior
to 1975, Nghiêu Đề’s preferred to do over size oil paintings. Once he was done
with a work, and while the oil was still wet, he would lean its face against
that of another dust-covered canvas otherwise one of his friends would come and
take his new work away. At times, when the urge came to paint but he had no
money to buy the canvas, Nghiêu Đề
would just take one of his finished works and paint over it. My room number 3/7
at the College Dormitory was where he chose to hang his oil painting “Moon”. A
while later Nghiêu Đề
sold it. I do not know who is now the lucky owner of that memorable painting.
The
illustration below was one of the three photocopies my friend engineer
Nguyễn Công Thuần
was able to make from the novel Gió Mùa kept at the library of Cornell University.
Moon, oil painting,
copy No. 1 from the novel Gió Mùa,
Sông
Mã Publisher 1965 [Label: Wason PL 4389, N473, G4]
In
Vietnam, Nghiêu Đề’s works were much sought after by foreign tourists or
Vietnamese expatriates. The artist abhored having to paint on commission. His gallery is wherever you can find his
works - mostly scattered all around his friends’ houses. His works were few and
far between – not enough to meet the demand
accounting for the high prices they commanded. A few days after he sold a
painting, unfailingly, his friends would see a completely different Nghiêu Đề.
What they saw then was a Nghiêu Đề riding a Mobilete moped with a rare
full tank of gas going in search of
friends to take them out until his last penny was spent.
Again we can read Nghiêu Đề’s reply to a question from
journalist Nguiễn Ngu í in the Bách Khoa magazine of September 15, 1962:“I can barely bear the presence of my work
within the first hour I finished working on it. I usually relegate it to a
corner of the room for it to gather dust...I am grateful to friends who come
and take them away. I would feel more at peace that way. Each time I sold a
painting it seemed as if the money just rained down from heaven so I squandered
it away without regret. At times I’m paid too much for my work and I don’t
believe I deserve it! Like a rip-off. I thank all those who like my paintings
and for their generosity. They were too generous!”
The
“matière” in
Nghiêu Đề’s works
The term
drawing is probably not appropriate to describe Nghiêu Đề’s art. Drawing is never the crucial element in an oil painting under his
brush. In his view, an artist’s talent is found in the beauty of the
materials applied on the empty space or background
of the painting. To arrive at a full appreciation of Nghiêu Đề’s magic, one
needs to sit in silence for hours to watch the movements of his brush. Then,
one would see the thick clump of coarse, lifeless paint he threw on the canvas
being instantly transformed into a radiant subtle background the color of jade.
Even when the color is a dark blue, it still maintains its radiance. The
“matière” always
show a softness while the composition still solid but subtle. It’s unmistakably Nghiêu Đề.
Nghiêu Đề often referred to “matière”
on each painting. I am at a loss finding an equivalent technical term in
Vietnamese. Nguyên Khai called it gamme of
colors, Huỳnh Hữu Uỷ, simply named it “essence” like the “essence” in the works
of Nguyễn Trung, Cù Nguyễn, Lâm Triết… Going back to the strokes in painting,
the way Nghiêu Đề saw it, they should not represent an attempt to reproduce
real life because, “the artist is the one
who can come up with the correct stroke from the two incorrect ones he sees in
real life.”
Not
long ago, when discussing about the beauty of a painting, Trịnh Cung mentioned
5 elements: theme, composition, strokes,
colors/light, beauty of the materials used. We can assert that it is this
beauty of the “matière” used that
brings out the subtleness and the “personality” of Nghiêu Đề’s art.
After
1975, there was a time Nghiêu Đề experimented with lacquers with his fellow
painters Nguyễn Lâm and Hồ Hữu Thủ. He later confessed that this art form is
more or less technically driven: once you applied a layer of lacquer on the
painting, the resulting beauty of the materials was quite unpredictable -
beyond the control of the artist. In 1984, Nghiêu Đề brought with him a number
of his exquisite lacquers when he resettled in the United States. Though they
brought him a degree of financial success, deep down, Nghiêu Đề knew he only
found his true artistic expression during the two productive decades of 1960
and 1970 when he exclusively worked on his oil paintings. To name a few:
Đêm, Tỏ Tình, Vùng Thanh Thoát, including
Chân Dung that brought him the Silver
Medal in the 1961 National Spring Art Exhibition.
“Thiếu
nữ”, oil painting: copy 2 and 3 from the novel Gió Mùa
Sông
Mã Publisher 1965
Nghiêu Đề and Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm
Nghiêu
Đề wrote his short stories in prose form. Like
in painting, he was not satisfied with his writings. Eventually, he was able to
have his book Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm, a collection of selected writings, published by Sông Mã in1965. It was a
beautiful book even though printed with the rudimentary equipment at the tiny house
owned by Nguyễn Trọng and located in a small alley behind the Lăng Ông in Gia Định.
The pedal operated press had a revolving plate and used worn out types. It could only print two pages at a time. The
owner cum printer held Nghiêu Đề in high esteem and only charged him for the
cost of the materials used plus a symbolic amount for his labor. It took a
considerable time for the 122 page book including the illustrations of several
art works to be printed considering that the owner could only do it in his
spare time. Every weekend, the two of us would ride together to the place to
hold in our hands the freshly printed pages still fragrant with the smell of
ink and paper. The number of copies printed was quite limited accounting for
the fact that the book was not widely known and not many of them survive to
this day. There is a detail worth mentioning here: in 1985, when I again met Nghiêu
Đề in America, I learned that Nguyễn Trọng was a high-level undercover Vietcong
and that his small printing press was probably used to produce propaganda
leaflets or materials for the National Liberation Front.
I was
deeply moved holding a special edition of the book Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm from the personal library of Bé Búp, Nghiêu Đề’s
daughter, in San Diego. It is probably the only leather bound copy printed on croquis paper in existence. On the book’s spine one can read the gilded
name Nguyễn Toản, Nghiêu Đề’s beloved father, who passed away very early on
when his family still resided in a multi-story apartment building on Duy Tân
Street. Nghiêu Đề
and his family later moved to the house at 19B Lý Trần Quán, Saigon and it was
there that the two of
us chose Sông Mã to be the publisher for Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm. The book consisted
of 4 short stories and 4 illustrations (one of his own and the rest by his
friends).
Editor
Nguyễn Xuân Hoàng knew Nghiêu Đề was the author of Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm, and on a
couple of occasions asked him to write short stories for his publication Văn.
The latter only smiled in reply leading Nguyễn Xuân Hoàng to say: “Occasionally Nghiêu Đề would send to Văn a
poem but absolutely no short story. I asked him many times and he replied:
colors are enough, poetry is a misstep, short stories would be a second misstep too far
…” (Một Chút Kỷ
niệm với Nghiêu Đề, NXH San Jose, 16/11/1998)
Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm, short stories
by nghiêu đề
Cover by nguyễn trung
Phụ Bản: lâm triết, cù nguyễn, nguyễn
trung, nghiêu đề; Book design trần dạ từ
songmaxuatbanmotchinsaulam
Table
of Content
7 nai, lâm triết sơn dầu
9 VÙNG CỎ XANH
37 thảo và hoa, cù nguyễn sơn dầu
39 NGƯỜI ANH EM CỦA ĐẤT
67 vùng thanh thoát, nghiêu đề oil painting
69 NGỌN TÓC TRĂM NĂM
93 chân dung, nguyễn trung oil painting
95 KHOẢNG RỢP CỦA BIỂN
When Nghiêu
Đề fell gravely ill, his wife Giang and their children worked in cooperatiion
with Viet Art Society, to put out a book about him. I was the least surprised
to learn that except for his paintings my friend did not want to include Ngọn
Tóc Trăm Năm in that book about his lifetime works. Nghiêu Đề may have disowned
his literary work but it had undeniably become an integral part of the pre 1975
literary scene in South Vietnam.
Apercu about Nghiêu
Đề and Vòng Đai Xanh
Triết, the main protagonist,
in the novel Vòng Đai Xanh, started out as an artist before he became a war correspondent.
He was essentially a fictitious character based on the real lives of Nghiêu Đề and
this author.
Novel Vòng Đai Xanh
by Ngô Thế
Vinh, book cover by Nghiêu
Đề,
Thái Độ Publisher (1971) [Label:
Wason PL 4389, N473, V9]
… like any morning, while
waiting for the newspaper to be typeset I found it the ideal time for me to go
down stair from the newsroom to have a chat with the girl who was the secretary
or walk to the head of the alley, order a cup of bitter cà phê bít tất (coffee
brewed in a sock-like bag), then talk with anybody who happened to be present –
usually the employees or typesetters of the printing shop. The rest of the day
dragged by in complete gentle quietude. From the dark spiral stairway, the air
in the office seemed to be at rest and frigid. The pitch black desks stood
motionless in deep slumber. Desks and chairs also have their relative positions
in relation to each other.
Sometimes familiarity also
possesses the awkwardness of the first day of arrival. If I’m still an artist,
in all probability, I’d be painting with the same feelings of awkwardness. I
could not help being overwhelmed by nostalgia when I bid farewell to the
canvas. After the huge fire that devoured everything I had definitively
forsaken the easel for an indefinite time. Even so, I took part at the last
exhibition by submitting four of my oversize paintings I was able to retrieve
from my friends. The fact that my name appeared on the list of participating
artists did not raise any objections or comments. The surprising thing was
three of my four works were the first to be sold. In particular, the painting Mèo
Đen Trên Thảm Hồng/ Black Cat on a Pink Carpet was bought by a lady named Như
Nguyện. As for the other two, they went
to an American visitor I later found out to be a reporter named Davis.
On this occasion I received enough to pay off
my big debts, buy a small typewriter, and a very good camera. I felt like a
farmer blessed with an abundant, off-season harvest. I decided to give up painting
with its truly tardive rewards. [VĐX, Chapter 1,
Nxb Thái Độ 1970]
A different Nghiêu Đề
Because
of his disregard for the conventions of ordinary life it is easy for people to
regard Nghiêu Đề as a free soul, an easy
going type of guy who cared less about anything. Though he got along well with
people around him, one could still detect in him a certain haughtiness not
toward others but toward himself. A good and gentle friend, never mean spirited
or bitter but extremely cynical, Nghiêu Đề lightheartedly calls dogs his
kindred. Just like the type of fellow Oscar Wilde would call: “A man who knows the price of everything and
the value of nothing”.
In
the midst of a raging war, many of his close writer or poet friends fought at
the frontline. He did not pass judgment on the war but personally chose to stay
out of the fray. He lived with colors, in all placidity. Nghiêu Đề is
the very image of the Moon bird inhabiting the dream world of his home village.
A fragile creature that soared high in the sky, sang melodiously then
disappeared in the moonlit night. Nghiêu Đề made me think of the character Sơn Ca in Vũ Khắc
Khoan’s play Thành Cát Tư Hãn.
While
leafing through his book Ngọn Tóc Trăm Năm, a very old photograph accidentally
fell out from its pages. I did not know the year it was taken but it apparently
showed the marks of time. I could still recognize the pair of quixotic friends
Nghiêu Đề and Lâm Triết with their tattered mats and travel bags going on on
their wandering. There was a time they rented an attic in order to paint and
have a place for friends to meet. A constant and unpleasant odor pervaded the
place because the landlord raised chickens and pigs there. Still they stayed
for several long years persisting in the pursuit of their dreams. Finally Nghiêu
Đề got his Silver Medal with his work Chân Dung in the 1961 National Spring Art
Exhibition while Lâm Triết won his Gold Medal with his painting Ngựa in the following year. Nghiêu Đề is no
longer with us. Lâm Triết has said his “farewell to arms”, left Saigon to live
at his “peaceful enclave” among the trees and plants of his native Bình Định.
In lieu of conclusion: The last
three oil paintings done by Nghiêu Đề in America
1986: Bố
cục Sen, a
young girl floats effortlessly upward
from the lotus buds. It was finished after the day Nghiêu Đề set foot in
America. The painting brought in enough to buy a piano for the children. The
circuitous odyssey this painting took afterward proved quite interesting. The
first owner brought it from San Diego back to Vietnam. It later passed on to
another buyer then a third. Eventually, it found its way back to the United
States. The above picture was taken by the author at a house in Huntington Beach.
1988: Vườn
chuối 1988, a
young girl hides in a verdant banana tree garden. The portraits of mature women or Nghiêu Đề’s
lovers in his works in Vietnam are now being replaced by the innocent looking
faces of his children. Besides the familiar blue we observe in Nghiêu Đề’s
paintings prior to 1975, gold and red made their appearance in his works in
America. Probably a fleeting reflection of happier times.
This
painting was bought by a person who traveled from Los Anegeles to San Diego.
The author no longer recalls the identity of the individual.
1998: Bé
Sài Gòn, From
the time Nghiêu Đề fell ill, his health deteriorated very quickly. The ensuing
physical pain and weakness did not prevent him from working on this oil
painting of his youngest daughter who was 19 at the time. This is perhaps his
last work that was left unfinished a few months before his death. This unique
work now hangs at the San Diego home of his son Nguyễn Nghiêu Ngung or Cu Bi.
This
late writing in November is done in memory of a friend in lean days and also
dedicated to his wife Giang, Cu Bi, Bé Búp and Bé Sài Gòn on Nghiêu Đề’s
16th
anniversary.
NGÔ
THẾ VINH
Saigon 1958 – California
2014 