Brandon Tho Harris: Oh Mother Vietnam, We Are Still Here
Brandon Tho Harris is an interdisciplinary artist based in Houston, Texas. His creative practice explores his identity as a child of war refugees. By examining the Vietnamese diaspora in relation to his own family history, he is able to understand and process intergenerational trauma. Harris’ work incorporates self-portraiture, his family archives, and historical images portraying the Vietnam war. Through the use of photography, video, performance and installation, he allows the viewers a deeper understanding of the complexities surrounding migration. His work has been featured in exhibitions at Houston Center for Photography and the Blaffer Art Museum. Harris' projects have also been funded by grants from The Idea Fund and Houston Art Alliance.
RR: Hello Brandon, how is it going? How are things in the age of Covid?
BTH: Hello Raul, nice to meet via this virtual Covid world we are living in currently! I am doing well considering everything happening in the world right now. I am managing to stay busy with projects and my last semester at the University of Houston. I am so grateful for not having any projects or exhibitions canceled due to Covid, I know many artists are struggling during this time!
RR: I wanted to start with your interest in photography and how you incorporate it in your overall interdisciplinary practice. Is there something you believe photography does well?
BTH: My interest in photographs was the product of the erasure of my family’s history. My grandfather was in the South Vietnamese army and was highly ranked. To escape he had to become invisible. When my family was escaping the war in Vietnam, they had to conceal their identities by burying their documents and photographs in the dirt of their home. Becoming no one, while becoming everyone; Untraceable. There was only one photograph that survived the migration to the United States, which was my grandparent’s wedding photograph. This photograph has become a symbol of their strength and resilience for me. It showed me the value of the photograph, especially as a way to establish your family’s existence.
Growing up as a kid, my mother would document every single moment of my life. I really took it for granted and looking back now, I am happy she did. What I love about photography is the ability to freeze a moment in history that can live on for future generations. Throughout my interdisciplinary practice, I always come back to photography. I believe that photography does well in documenting an intimate moment between the subject and the photographer.
RR: Is there anything you think the photograph doesn’t do well?
BTH: When trying to photograph something such as intergenerational trauma and the post-experiences of war, it is not something you can physically document. These feelings are often hard to portray in photographs but are not impossible. With an interdisciplinary practice, it allows for the creation of many different approaches into the deeply personal and often sensitive topics addressed in my work.
RR: Intergenerational trauma as it relates to the immigrant experience plays a big role in your work. As you map through those very real concepts, how do you approach presenting them?
BTH: I start by collecting stories from my family members and a lot of research on the ideas that I want to examine. After, I will take photographs, collect archival images, and think of ways in presenting the work. By confronting the complexities of migration, it has been a good way of addressing the traumas carried by my family. This has been especially helpful for my grandmother, who often doesn’t have the words to express the past. Through my practice, it has been a way to release the internalized feelings built-up and buried within her.
After the creation of images, I tend to collect a lot of objects and clothing tied to my heritage. I see these as relics of my culture. Lately, I have been thinking about these objects and images working together. My current project Mẹ Việt Nam ơi, Chúng Con Vẫn Còn đây (Oh Mother Vietnam, We Are Still Here) that was funded by The Idea Fund and Houston Art Alliance, I believe is a great example of how I am incorporating imagery and sculptural work. Together it will hopefully create a very thought-provoking exhibition for a post-Covid future!
RR: Looking at your work, talking about intergenerational experiences after migration, I can’t help but think of the word Survival. The survival of life and the survival of culture.
BTH: I am so grateful for all my family’s sacrifices and strength that has allowed me to be able to pursue my dreams. As the child of war refugees, you are so close to this trauma. I desire to understand where I come from and never lose touch with it. It is important to embrace your culture and not let it disappear. Throughout my work, I examine my relationship with home, despite recognizing that home (Vietnam) for me is one that I have never known. I cannot fully understand what my family has experienced to survive, but what I can do is share their story, embrace my culture, and make them proud.
RR: Could you talk about your most recent installation; the boat (re)construction from various remnants of family homes and sites related to the movement of Vietnamese refugees throughout Houston and the Gulf Coast.
BTH: The reconstruction of a Vietnamese refugee boat is just a part of my larger project, Mẹ Việt Nam ơi, Chúng Con Vẫn Còn đây (Oh Mother Vietnam, We Are Still Here). The project examines the history of the Vietnamese diaspora in relation to the Houston and Gulf Coast region where many refugees settled after the war. I will be visiting personal sites of his own family’s journey and significant historical landmarks related to the movement of the Vietnamese migration within these areas. I was thinking about ideas of movement by water and how the boat is a migrant space where you belong to nowhere. The word Nước means water in Vietnamese. It can also stand for homeland or country. I find this to be interesting when understanding how powerful water is in this refugee space. The term Boat person was a derogatory term used against the Vietnamese refugee as a tool of oppression. I am trying to reclaim this history and focus on the resilience of these refugees.
The construction of the boat is a direct reference to the boats that many refugees escaped on. For this sculptural work, I have been collecting wood from around Houston and the Gulf Coast city of Seabrook to form the shape of a boat. With the help of fellow Houston artist Erick Zambrano, we created an eight-foot wooden boat patched together with weavings of the old North and South Vietnamese flags. I will be pulling the boat throughout Houston and Seabrook filled with the land collected from each location, activating these spaces.
RR: Has going through this project served as a healing process for you or your family?
BTH: This family history was never discussed growing up. A part of my identity that is unknown to me, yet my curiosity desires to understand this hidden aspect of my history. The project has been a proactive way of addressing these traumas. My artistic practice is foundationally a collaboration between my family and I. By navigating this history, it allows my family to finally heal from years of repression. My grandmother has expressed to me how important it is to allow others to hear her story, yet does not have the language or way to do so. With this project, it has opened dialogue about this unspoken history between my family and created an even closer bond between us.
RR: Migration out of survival doesn’t just shift movements, it shifts identities as well. Like you mentioned with your grandfather. How would you describe your own contemporary shift in identity?
BTH: As the child of war refugees, my parents did everything in their power to keep me safe, yet enforced ideologies of being the perfect “American”. They wanted my sister and I to adapt and assimilate to American society as an act of survival in this foriegn land. My mother would tell me how the other children in school would make fun of her accent and did not want that to happen to my sister or I. They only spoke english to us and did not teach us Vietnamese among other things so we would be like our peers. Everything was done out of protection, out of survival, so I can have an easier life than they had. As an adult, I desire to reconnect to my heritage and undo this loss of identity created by the migration.
RR: Would you care to share any other projects in the works?
BTH: Yes, the Asia Society Texas is planning on hosting four local Houston artists to use their galleries as a project space. I am excited for this opportunity to utilize the space and test out different ways of presenting the work that I am doing. The space will be open to the public during business hours for viewers to look at the work and the creation of new work. I also have the pleasure of collaborating with a good friend and artist Antonius-Tín Bui on a performance video piece exploring the Vietnamese American Diaspora for Rice University in the summer.
RR: Thanks Brandon!
BTH: Thank you for sharing my work!