A Fresh Start

Second time around: A well-respected artist in Vietnam, Dao Tong Lu hopes his traditional Chinese ink paintings get the same recognition in Philadelphia.

Photo By: Mike Mergen

Street artist Dao Tong Lu sells his artwork in Old City -- but not in the gallery space he's used to.

by Helen i-lin Hwang

On many First Fridays, meanderers will catch sight of a middle-aged Asian man who has set up shop in front of the former National Hardware store on Second Street, selling his paintings. It's a far cry from the art gallery Dao Tong Lu owned in District 5, Saigon, and a lifetime away from the esteem he once held, when he exhibited his works in galleries and public spaces all over Vietnam, including the Ho Chi Minh City Museum and the Ho Chi Minh Art Association. There's even a 160-page glossy art book devoted to him, with reproduced images of his oeuvre accompanied by text in Vietnamese, Chinese and English.

Much of his work is classical Chinese ink painting, in dreamy pale yellows, greens and blush pinks. Using acrylics, oil and watercolors, he mostly does figure painting with cats, monkeys and birds as his models. Often, he uses a mao-bi, a Chinese calligraphy brush, in combination with Western-style brushes. The theme in his works -- even before he got to America -- centers on memory, nostalgia and returning journeys.

His studio is a dark-paneled room on the second floor of his tidy rowhome, where he lays his canvases flat on a worn cyan tablecloth to paint. On his days off from a part-time job at a nail salon in the Northeast, he paints morning, noon and night, producing an average of 20 paintings a month. "It's more important to keep producing than to sell," Lu says, in Mandarin Chinese.

His masterpiece is a long scroll of monochrome ink brushstrokes that are delicate and vigorous, like twigs or lightning flashes. When he looks at it, he feels "hen sifu," or very comforted. That's the feeling the work evokes for him and what he wants his viewers to see. It measures 19 feet by 18 inches and it's not for sale. He keeps it safely tucked away in a canister. In four hours of intense inspiration in a studio in China, he created his proudest work, but he has no place to display it since none of the small rooms in his Philly home are big enough to accommodate the length.

One of the first paintings he did when he arrived in America is an oil portrait of his younger son, wearing an "I Love Head Start 2002" sweatshirt, symbolic of the quintessential optimism of the immigrant family.

Through word-of-mouth, he sells his paintings to Chinese Americans and visitors to First Friday. In fact, First Friday is where he gets his artistic affirmation from the community. "Lots of people come and take a look at my work," says Lu. "It's there that people really understand and appreciate my art." Typically, he sells three to four paintings on a First Friday.

He can hardly communicate in English to his potential clients as they compliment and admire his works, which range from abstract postmodern to classical Chinese style. When a would-be buyer inquires about the price, he pulls out an 8-by-11 piece of paper, a computerized printout of the prices as determined by the dimensions of his work, from the inside pocket of his jacket. His 25-year-old son, Phong, typed up the English words for him. Phong is studying computer science at Drexel University, after having transferred there from community college, where he got up to speed in English. Today his English does not contain a trace of his native Vietnamese accent.

The Lu family -- Dao Tong, his wife, Anh, Phong and 7-year-old Tan -- moved to Philly from Saigon nearly four years ago, after making several attempts to get to the United States. His mother and sisters were already in America, including an older sister in Northeast Philly who helped Lu buy his South Philly rowhome. Lu's parents moved to Vietnam from Taishan in the Canton province and Dao speaks Chinese in three dialects -- Cantonese, Mandarin and Taishanese -- along with Vietnamese. Though the artist was born and raised in Vietnam, he considers himself Chinese, and most of his paintings include Chinese characters; he signs them in the red traditional Chinese seal form with characters positioned in a square motif.

"I really like America," says Lu. "Here, what you want to do, it's possible to do." He's optimistic that he'll someday open his own art gallery in America. For now, his living room and stairwell act as his exhibit space and the walls are lined with his work from floor to ceiling.

Phong also works to help support the family, doing co-ops as part of Drexel's undergrad program. He dreams of being a software engineer, though he grew up appreciating art. "My dad lost everything so I can start something," he says. Phong may help his father more with his art career one day; for now, he gives Lu a ride to Old City on First Fridays. Dao Tong Lu is determined not to be a street artist forever, but to achieve the recognition he once held in his native country is a long, uphill journey.

Dao Tong Lu’s works are available for purchase at www.lutongdao.com and www.bn.com.