In this interview, Luce Nguyễn-Hunt beautifully reflects on the experiences that impact an arts practice informed by cultural creative practices, family ties and an exploration of self-hood. As a Vietnamese, Samoan and Rarotongan interdisciplinary artist based in Naarm, Luce’s work investigates the complexity of diasporic experiences through a lens-based practice. Luce shares how their love for film photography developed; the conversations they have valued in the multiple arts collectives they belong to; and their project, Repercussions which explores cultural reconnection and a return to mana (spiritual lifeforce).
- Tell us a little bit about yourself and your creative practice.
I am the cheeky second-born child of a strong migrant mother who showed me there is soft power in resistance. I am a sibling to a gentle sister who taught me sensitivity is a rare beauty. I am the grandchild of my Ba Ngoai (grandmother) who was described as a ‘deep river person’ who allowed me to appreciate my fierceness and sharp tongue. All of this is to say, I am a person who is pieced together by the wisdom of my family and ancestors. A proud Vietnamese, Samoan and Rarotongan (Cook Islands) artist who makes work dedicated to telling my stories, led by the languages of my people.
- How did you start your creative practice and why?
My arts practice is the culmination of cultural creative traditions and familial influences. My sister, Emily, and I have played music together since we were young, so she was a major creative influence in my childhood. If you asked me as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up I would have vehemently told you I wanted to be a singer. It’s warming to look back and see all the ways we were carrying on our Pasifika heritage even being displaced from the Islands and our family. In many ways I feel as if this is how my creative practice started. From playful experimentation, talking, thinking and being.
Visual culture has been a constant throughout my life; growing up in the evolving internet age and being surrounded by my grandfather’s snapshot photography. Through the lo-fi pixels of my family Microsoft Optiquest computer and the honeyed-magenta of 35mm Agfa film preserved in self-adhesive family albums, my interest in digital and moving images began early in my childhood.
My Uncle Thuy gifted me my first 35mm film camera during my 15th year and I absolutely fell in love. I remember visiting White Rabbit Gallery in Sydney and seeing Shi Yong’s A Bunch of Happy Fantasies and photographing it on my first roll of film, eager to see how it might turn out. I couldn’t get over how beautiful the room looked, bathed in the red glow of the neon poetry. Although there was an overwhelming sorrowful message portrayed in that work, it comforted me to decipher the meaning within the pain whilst also knowing we may never understand the depth of it.
Shi Yong’s influence continues to ripple through my practice today. It has become my therapy. One that I am always trying to create a healthy relationship with, but a cherished one nonetheless. I need my practice in order to make sense of the world and my place within it. To deconstruct my privileges and my downfalls, my joys and sorrows.
- Where did you grow up and has it influenced what you create?
I was born in Aotearoa (New Zealand) and moved to the leafy streets of Sunnybank Hills in Brisbane when I was 3 where I spent most of my life. One of my first lucid memories took place in my family home, where I lived until just four months ago. I remember being tucked away behind a floral couch, hyper-focussed on playing with my red and blue car toys for what felt like a few minutes only to emerge from my hidden abyss to see the whole house had been furnished and moved in. I’ve always been fascinated in the details and am the sort of person who doesn’t like being rushed. It’s interesting that one of my first memories truly exemplifies this, and my upbringing in south-side suburban Meeanjin (Brisbane) was the perfect place to keep seeking that solitude I found behind the couch.
Aside from this, I think I am still processing how growing up with a fluctuating sense of “home” has affected my practice and indeed, selfhood. Living within the in-between of culture, sexuality, gender, and geography has been the ultimate foundation for my practice. Talking with my community of qpoc (queer people of colour) has kept me motivated to continue making work about this experience, because I am reminded it matters and is valuable. I love the Meeanjin arts community with all my heart! They have helped me find my voice and use it and for that I’ll always be grateful.
- Whose work are you digging at the moment?
I am always always always digging the work of Aniway Aquilizan, an arts worker, writer and long-time friend based in Meeanjin. Our conversations never get old. Reina Takeuchi, a dear friend and co-founder of ANTHEM ARI, has recently become a PHD candidate, and is someone who I know I can always find balance with. I will always admire how she leads her creative and curatorial practice with reciprocity in mind. Working with ANTHEM ARI, and CTRL ALT DEL has also been such a joy. I’m always excited to see what Conscious Mic and Voices of Colour are thinking up.
Taloi Havini, Brian Fuata and Salote Tawale have also been so inspiring and working with them during the APT10 install was so formative. They were all so open and hilarious, very much big siblings vibes. I went to the opening for Frances Barrett: Meatus at ACCA about a month ago and hearing Brian’s breath and voice fill the space like a rhythmic cry brought my body to the present. Since moving to Naarm I’ve been working with Andy Butler which has allowed me to have so many productive and unfiltered conversations about the art world, equity and systems of power. I can already tell the new work Andy has on the horizon is going to reinvigorate me!
I have also been enjoying movement-based art a lot more! Blu Jay, a Naarm-based artist, has been captivating my attention with their fanciful and curious mind, someone with whom I feel I can unashamedly lean into my childlike imagination and be praised for my wacky queerness.
Finally, I couldn’t sustain a creative practice without the conversations I have with my sister, Emily, about our culture and heritage. Someone with whom I know sees the world similarly to me. Also conversing with my partner, Shin, has been the greatest pleasure. His video work at the recent Taking Up Space: Love Letters to Queer Bodies exhibition will live on in my mind. Annie Hui is one of the first people to receive my chaotic phone calls when I’m stressing out about an art idea I have, and now that we live in the same city I can just turn up on their doorstep haha! I’m missing my besties Joaquin Gonzales and Lele Aquilizan and being goofy, dressing up in matching outfits and attending our own exhibition openings late.
- What future projects are you looking forward to?
I am most excited for New Energy with 4A Centre for Contemporary Asian Art in Eora/Sydney! I will be flying there next month for the opening where I will be showing my video work Repercussions. Repercussions is probably the piece I am most proud of making and one which I feel changed the trajectory of my practice. Repercussions scratches the surface of cultural reconnection and a return to mana (spiritual lifeforce). It captures snippets of a telephone conversation between myself and my tinamatua (nana), speaking for the first time in 13 years. It was possibly one of the most cathartic experiences I’ve had in my life and documents the start of a return to my Indigeneity. There is a distinct air of forgiveness, acceptance, love and generosity. She cuddles me from across the ocean.
- Where can we find and follow you online?
@lucenguyenhunt and at my website www.lucynguyen-hunt.com ! Also email me 🙂 lucynguyenhunt8@gmail.com
All images provided by the artist.