From “Giám tuyển” to “Sách triển nhân”
The paper will begin with observations of linguistic changes as a re-examination of art historical discourse of the past 20 years. There were “foreign terms” emerging during the nascent period of contemporary art in Vietnam. Before 2000, “curator” was a “foreign term,” but it didn’t just appear out of nowhere. How was this “foreign term” perceived within the art community at that time? Was there any misconception? How was the role of a “curator” defined and recognized back then? After 2000, the term “giám tuyển” (curator) emerged as a translation for the “foreign term”. Is this solely a translation solution? Or does it also reflect an aesthetic belief, which makes the term not being easily accepted from the beginning understandable? From 2010 onwards, the term “giám tuyển” has been used with ease and proficiency. Through personal observation and record of various terminological uses, this paper aims to explore whether there have been diverse changes in different generations of curators in Vietnam.
Around the early 2000s, contemporary art in Vietnam had already been developing for a few years. Occasionally, in contemporary art activities, the term “curator” would come up to refer to a role that had to do with organizing art exhibitions or projects. Over time, this term was mentioned more and more frequently. Although at that point, many people in the art scene had various understandings and perceptions of what a curator was or what the curatorship involved, there was still much confusion and debate about the term. Not long after that, someone who made an effort to address this issue was Như Huy[1]. He introduced the term giám tuyển[2] as a translation for “curator.” Many people were cautious about using that term. However, over time, as we can see now, the term “giám tuyển” has become quite common in the art scene in Vietnam. This widespread usage led to a convention towards standardizing the translation of the term “curator.” But even that did not entirely eliminate the diversity of efforts to introduce other interpretations. A few years ago, we also heard the term sách triển nhân. If I’m not mistaken, it was proposed by Nguyễn Thế Sơn based on Chinese linguistic foundations. This diversity should be recognized, not as a new term replacing an old one, nor as an attempt to resolve which term is more appropriate.
When the term sách triển nhân emerged, it provided a good opportunity to further understand the meaning and notion of the term giám tuyển. The word sách in sách triển nhân can be understood as strategy – strategic planning (sách lược). It inherently implies a strategic vision. To put it more rigorously, this is the core competency of all curatorial practices. Without vision, all the efforts of a curator will closely resemble those of an art project manager or coordinator, or some other role within the art organization. When a curator possesses vision, they can foresee the overall situation to envision the structure of the project or exhibition. Therefore, the tuyển (selecting) process is also a discovery process. In other words, the act of selecting carried out by a curator does not necessarily follow a sequential process but occurs almost simultaneously as they perceive the whole scenario. So, is the sách (strategy) element essential to sách triển nhân inherently part of the tuyển (selecting) process? The issue is just that it is not explicitly evident in the term itself. The act of tuyển also reveals the curator’s personality and style more than the act of giám (supervising).
In sách triển nhân, the word triển refers to triển lãm (exhibition). But interestingly, although not semantically correct, it quite overlaps with triển khai (implementation). A curator is not only a creator and proposer but also the person who continues to implement the project/exhibition through the act of giám (supervising, monitoring, taking care of, etc.), whether directly or indirectly. Whether they work alone or with a team, the curator is also an active participant rather than merely engaging in intellectual work from a distance. In terms of “proximity,” they are always close to the artist. It should also be noted that the acts of giám and tuyển are not entirely separate stages. When there is a strategy and structure for a project/exhibition, it also inherently sets the parameters for the operational phase to some extent.
From the terminology, various discussions arise when we talk about this profession. For example, there will be distinctions in curatorial styles. Some might lean more towards the tuyển aspect, being quite relaxed about the giám part, and vice versa. Others may focus heavily on strategic planning while not placing much importance on implementation and operation. There are also those who balance all aspects nearly perfectly.
We can also easily see that there are currently two distinct types of curators: curator and artist/curator. Each of these types has its own advantages and differences. It is as beneficial for artists to understand the styles of curators as it is for curators to understand the artists they work with.
Let’s return to the historical milestones of curatorship.
In a recent paper commissioned by Trần Lương[3], I recounted a memory from 2003 when I attended the ‘Green Red & Yellow’[4] exhibition. A friend enlightened me about what a curator was, describing it vaguely as someone who organizes exhibitions, and likening it to a director for easier understanding. My ignorance at that time was quite humorous, reminiscent of the story “The Blind Men and the Elephant.” I perceived Trần Lương somewhat like an MC, but I understood he was something more important and special. Around that time, I naively thought that one of the curator’s main tasks was to secure funding or connect with financial sources to support nonprofit art activities. A colleague warned me, “Oh no, that’s not their forte. Curators aren’t experts at fundraising.”
In late 2006, my class had to submit topics for our graduation thesis. I proposed the topic: The Current State of Curators (curatorship) in Vietnam. My enthusiasm was encouraged by a few close friends and Professor Trần Hậu Yên Thế. I went into the preliminary review which included several faculty members who had only heard vaguely about the type of work curators do in recent contemporary art activities. The term “giám tuyển” was a completely new challenge for them. As a result, they suggested I use the original term “curator.” During the official review before the entire faculty, my topic was rejected because the faculty members didn’t understand it well. They advised setting aside unclear issues for the time being.
In late 2007, during an interview for a position at the Fine Arts Research Institute, the crucial question they asked me was: What was your grade and what was your graduation thesis about?
I answered, “I graduated with distinction. My approved thesis topic was: The Relationship Between Motion & Stillness in Painting.”
The interviewer looked surprised and said, “We were introduced to you by some people who mentioned you as a dynamic student starting to engage in contemporary art activities. Didn’t you think of a more interesting topic in five years of study than this dull one?”
I replied, “This topic was assigned by the professors. My original topic, The Current State of Curatorship in Vietnam, was not approved.”
The interviewer said, “It wasn’t approved for a reason. There’s hardly anything significant about curatorship in Vietnam worth studying. The most notable curator now is Trần Lương. Recently, Như Huy has emerged in Saigon. It will take a long time before there’s enough substance to study this field.”
Almost 15 years later, when I read about an open call from the Nguyen Art Foundation seeking curators for their collection’s exhibition, I was struck by the memory of 15 years ago when the entire country had only one curator. The existence of such an open call indicates a diverse and rich landscape of curatorship. Similarly, when organizing this conference, it wasn’t too difficult for us to list 20-30 Vietnamese curators.
What else do the “side discussions” tell us?
- In a recent casual chat over tea and wine with artist/curator Nguyễn Huy An about the papers we were working on for the conference, we reminisced about our early days in the art scene. Nguyễn Huy An mentioned a talented but somewhat “primitive” artist friend who gave a layman’s explanation of what a curator does. At that time, the term “curator” was hardly popular. His description likened a curator to someone maintaining order in a market, ensuring vegetable sellers didn’t switch places with fish sellers, meat vendors stayed separate from grain vendors, and preventing the overall chaos by creating a structured flow in the marketplace.
We somewhat agreed with him although this analogy is simplistic and context-dependent, it does have some logic. But would such a rudimentary understanding create a “momentum” that leads people to assume this is the curator’s responsibility and authority?
Later, in a different context, during a meeting between artists and a curator, a friend of mine still thought that the artists’ job was to conduct field research, create sketches, and produce work, while the curator’s job was to take care of the final exhibition setup and presentation. I don’t fully agree with this view. I believe artists understand best how their works should be presented in an exhibition space and have a sense of the best display standards to showcase their work as they envision. Sometimes, what a curator finds unnecessary might be essential for the artist, and vice versa. Therefore, artists need to understand how their work is presented, not just in their studio but within the specific context of a project or exhibition. They should discuss their proposals with their curators. Presenting the artwork is not necessarily the curator’s specialty, regardless of whether they’re capable of doing it well or not.
After expressing my viewpoint, I was straightforwardly challenged by a colleague.
“Look at yourself when the Appendix group curated works by 29 artists for the Skylines with Flying People 4[5] (Skylines 4) project. The artists were mostly passive, merely submitting their works to you.”
Yes, there is nothing unfair here; we did the curator’s job, and the artists in that project did theirs as well. Objectively speaking, I feel everyone tried their best to fulfill their obligations like professionals. So what exactly is the job here? We proposed a very transparent and specific plan based on a particular artistic context to commission artworks for Skylines 4 (different from previous Skylines versions). The specific social context at that time (2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic) made it necessary to establish rules and conventions for everyone to adhere to for operational feasibility. There were constraints from multiple sides, not just between the curators and the artists. It included constraints between the warehouse owner and us, and their legal commitments in security and safety amidst the increasing challenges of societal circumstances during the COVID-19 pandemic.
When the artists voluntarily agreed to participate in a game that was initially too restrictive and suffocating, why did they still respond positively? It’s because they saw that the curators also lacked freedom. Everyone was in that situation. It was an active choice rather than passive, with no room for a victim mindset, hence no legitimate cry for freedom from artists to the curators. Instead, it was mutual encouragement like, “We are playing a strange game together, and we’re almost through it.” The truth is, we didn’t reject any dialogue from the artists; it still happened. We cannot grant them what we cannot decide. This format was created because too many things were under the control of the warehouse owner. The curator’s strategy was to make the project feasible at all costs, so we had to comply with current conventions. And we executed the project according to the legal commitments in the contract.
Therefore, in this project, the artists’ ability to perceive lies in their belief that curators understand the risks best. Curators ensure that everything happens and lasts. Artists will be the strictest judges of curators’ proposals. Once they agree with the curators, if they are not happy, perhaps it’s because the curators’ duty isn’t to make artists happy. Furthermore, personally, in this project, I am the curator. If I were an artist, I would only agree with the curators’ proposal if they convinced me for professional reasons. It makes me believe that the curators need me as a piece of the jigsaw puzzle for the whole to be better.
- Why do we sometimes still prefer to make comparisons even though we know the margin of inaccuracy is not insignificant?
I have found that there are many reference materials available, including concepts about curatorial practice and general introductions to the profession, that are comprehensive and accessible. However, in some more specific cases, especially when explaining the role of a curator to a third party in a simple and straightforward manner, we still sometimes use the method of comparison and reference. This is primarily based on the historical context of what has been defined, meaning that the thing we use for comparison and reference already has a universal value system to better clarify what is being compared. And so, it seems to me that people often compare a curator to a director in cinema or a coach in football. Both of these comparative examples have their limitations. And they may only be true in a few special cases. In 2007, I was also suggested by someone in the field that a curator is not like a director and that it is also difficult to compare them in this way, and that if a comparison must be made, he sees the curator’s role as more like a producer than a director. Recently, I also had a discussion over wine and tea with curator Lê Thuận Uyên[6] and a few others, also revolving around the question of what other profession a curator could be compared to. I also don’t quite agree with comparing a curator to a football coach and the artist to a player. I think another relationship in a football club can better describe the relationship between a curator and an artist, which is the relationship between the coach and the technical director (sports director). In this case, the curator is the technical director and the artist is the coach. Of course, our conversation didn’t get anywhere because the rest of the people didn’t really understand much about curatorial practice but they did understand football. Conversely, curator Lê Thuận Uyên doesn’t know much about football. It was a funny story and we put it aside. I think I can wait for curator Như Huy to come to Hanoi for the conference. He knows about football, so I will consult him about this comparison.
About the author:
Vũ Đức Toàn (b. 1982) is an artist from Hanoi, Vietnam. His works primarily with performance and installation. His practice engages with the relationship between audience and performer, social rituals, and contexts from historical time periods that have ended or bridged the past and the present. Vũ Đức Toàn graduated from the Department of Art History and Theory, Vietnam University of Fine Arts. From 2005 to present, Toan has been an editor at the Vietnam Fine Arts Association, working at magazines under the Association. In 2010, Vu Duc Toan and Nguyen Huy An founded the Appendix Group, a group of Hanoi-based performance artists. His solo exhibitions include: Mỗi Tuần Trăng Vỡ Mật (Á Space, Hanoi, 2023) and Disorderly Departure (Nhà Sàn Collective, Hanoi, 2017). Selected performance art festivals and group exhibitions include: Returning to the island of the South (Taiwan, 2017), MoT+++ performance art festival and residency (HCMc, 2017), Guyu Action (China – Hong Kong – Taiwan, 2016), PAN ASIA 5 (Korea, 2012), U Lành Tính (Hanoi, 2011). He has been a member of the Curatorial Board of Nhà Sàn Collective since 2013 and as an individual curator he has curated: Skylines with flying people 4 (Mini Kingkho, Hanoi, 2020) with the Appendix Group, 4th Quarter Report (Á Space, Hanoi, 2023), Heart on the Margin (Manzi Art Space, Hanoi, 2023), Morning – Noon – Afternoon – Evening (Á Space, Hanoi, 2022), IN:ACT (Nhà Sàn Collective, 2017-present) and Tái Nạm (Mơ Art Space, Hanoi, 2022).
[1] (Nguyễn) Như Huy is a curator, poet, art critic, and translator. He is also the founder of Zero Station, an art project-based space in Saigon, Vietnam.
[2] The term “giám tuyển” is a Sino-Vietnamese word composed of two characters: “giám” and “tuyển.” “Giám” means supervising, and “tuyển” means selecting.
[3] Trần Lương is an artist/curator based in Hanoi, Vietnam. He is also one of the two founders of Nhà Sàn Studio and the founder and currently Director of APD Center (both Hanoi, Vietnam).
[4] Green Red & Yellow is a contemporary art exhibition featuring works by 16 artists curated by Trần Lương, held at the Goethe-Institut Hanoi from October 3 to October 10, 2003.
[5] Skylines with Flying People 4 is the fourth edition of Skylines with Flying People, a project initiated by Nhà Sàn Collective. The edition was executed in 2020, curated by the Appendix group (of which the author is a member) with the participation of 29 artists, and took place at King Mini Storage, Hanoi, Vietnam.
[6] Lê Thuận Uyên is a curator based in Hanoi, Vietnam. She is currently working as Artistic Director of The Outpost Art Organisation.
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