Luong Van Ty, an 81-year-old painter has led a full and rewarding life. But there is still one more thing he feels he needs to do, so he came to our office one day, unannounced, to ask for help.
I had never met him before that day.
An interesting encounter
It was early afternoon in the middle of July, and things were getting more hectic by the minute. The reception desk called my name on the loudspeaker, announcing that a visitor was waiting.
Surprised, I informed the reception staff that I didn’t have any appointments scheduled, and at any rate, I was in the middle of something that could not be interrupted. The visitor would have to wait.
“The gentleman said he will wait as long as he has to,” I was told, also informed that he was a senior citizen.
My unexpected guest was spry and not frail – the image I had in my mind. Distinguished looking with silvery-gray hair, quizzical eyes and a bright smile, Mr. Luong has the posture of a man who practiced martial arts in his youth.
Without beating around the bush, he introduced himself and told me the purpose of his visit.
“I need to do something that only Nguoi Viet Daily News can help with. And I am told you are the person to help,” he said.
Mr. Luong proceeded to tell me he would like to donate his collection of about 100 of his original paintings.
“So you would like me to write an article about that, or to help you organize an exhibit at Nguoi Viet’s facility to give the paintings away or something?”
“No,” he said, emphatically. “I would rather give my collection to a museum. Can you help me to write to a museum?”
“I am not sure. Do you have any pictures of your paintings?” I asked.
“No, not with me, but I can get them to show you,” he replied.
I explained to Mr. Luong that first I would need to see pictures of his paintings. Then I would like to visit his studio, to see the paintings, perhaps to see him at work, and then after that, I could write an article, and hopefully once the word got out, a museum or two would contact him.
I gave him a business card. We shook hands and agreed to meet once he got the pictures.
Three weeks passed. Just when I had forgotten all about him, my name was called through the loudspeaker again. This time, the front desk announced his name.
The man and his paintings
Mr. Luong Van Ty brought to our office an oversized art book, about 100 pages thick, hard bound, beautifully printed with his oil on canvas paintings, all in full colors.
I flipped a few pages. Wow!
“My children printed this for me as a gift on my 81st birthday, I just got it yesterday!” he said, proudly.
“Oh, it’s your birthday? How wonderful!”
I turned the pages. Broad and bold strokes. Green and brown, red and maroon, lots of yellow, vibrant and yet subdued at the same time. Colors of the earth, hope, happiness and determination.
‘Girls chatting,’ ‘old ways,’ ‘Thu Bon river,’ ‘traditional dancing,’ traditional singing,’ ‘corner of Nguyen Hue Blvd’ and ‘beggars returning to temple’ are some of the titles. His subjects all seem to address Vietnam of an ancient past.
It was not until I had a chance to visit Mr. Luong at his home that I could see him in his element, and to learn about the man behind his mountain of paintings.
The first thing you saw in his living quarters was not the kitchen, table and chairs, but paintings everywhere, on the floor, on top of tables, on the wall, on the stairways, easels, paint brushes and palettes of colors scattered around.
Brush in hand, Mr. Luong sat in his easy chair, painting, and told me his life story while touching up a painting.
Born into a working-class family with a Chinese father and Vietnamese mother. Mr. Luong did not have an easy childhood. His father passed away when he was 12. His mother was not highly educated and could only afford to let him finish elementary school. After he left school, the young Mr. Luong worked as a carpentry apprentice while teaching himself math at night. When he was 16, he was able to save some money and started taking painting classes, mostly private lessons, and learning by working for some other painters.
Like most men during his time, Mr. Luong was drafted into the army when he was 21, serving for 11 years. His talent quickly recognized, the military let him paint, and even helped him to hold more than 10 exhibits. He won a number of awards and sold many paintings while still in Vietnam.
Another April 30th story
Then, 1975 came. Mr. Luong left Vietnam and migrated to the U.S. He set the painting aside for a while and worked at different jobs to rebuild his life.
To support his wife and six children, he started several successful businesses – including a grocery store, a herbal medicine store, and even the first Vietnamese local TV station in California — but always found time in between to take painting and art classes.
He traveled to San Bernardino to take classes in painting and silk screening and to Los Angeles to learn sculpting and ceramics. His latest achievement was a full size stature of himself, now being displayed at Laguna College of Art and Design, in Laguna Beach, California.
At 65, he retired.
“I worked hard all my life,” Mr. Luong said. “When I looked around, my wife was sick, my children grown and gone. I had nothing left, but my paintings.”
“Why won’t you sell them? What do your children think about your wish to donate the paintings?” I asked.
“Oh, I told them you were going to help me, and they are very happy about it!” he said.
I had done a little research about him prior to the visit and learned that in certain circles, his paintings are well appreciated. Some were priced as high as $20,000. But to all offers to buy, he emphatically declined because he wants to give them a way, as a gift.
“Do you know why?”
Mr. Luong asked and answered his own question: “Because the gift would be a token of my appreciation to America, the generous country and people that I feel grateful to. It’s a small contribution from a Vietnamese refugee to this country.”
“Painting is my hobby, my karma, my number one passion from a very young age,” he said, waving his brush at the paintings.
“An accumulation of a lifetime of learning, my labor of love for the last 16 years.”
Labor of love? Maybe, or perhaps a long walk along memory lane, each painting an entry in a diary. I looked at the paintings, and at the man sitting in front of me. How does one capture one’s soul? How does one record a whole life time?
And most importantly, how am I going to help this gentleman give his arts away?
Tina Hà Giang
Nguồn: Người Việt