JERRY TRUONG

Charcoal and incense ash on panel
80” x 60”
2022

On April 15, 2008, while traveling from Miami to Grand Cayman, the crew of the Disney Wonder cruise ship encountered a drifting raft at sea. This makeshift vessel was carrying Cuban migrants stranded in the Florida Straits, the body of water between Cuba and Florida. Responding swiftly, the crew initiated a rescue operation, providing these individuals with essential necessities like food, water, and medical aid.

This work is comprised of two panels: Wondrous Wanderings and Perplexing Peregrination. The first panel depicts the luxurious experience of passengers aboard the Disney cruise, in stark contrast to the second panel, which illustrates the Cuban refugees' treacherous situation on their fragile raft. This juxtaposition highlights the profound disparity between opulence and adversity. The artwork encourages viewers to explore the intersections of wealth and poverty, illuminating unsettling truths within our collective human narrative—where joy and suffering, as well as privilege and vulnerability, coexist.

Also drawing inspiration from Homer's epic, the Odyssey, this piece parallels the Disney Wonder's humanitarian efforts with Odysseus' perilous journey, emphasizing heroism, ingenuity, and the contrasts between privilege and adversity. It celebrates the Cuban refugees' courage and resilience alongside Odysseus' trials, spotlighting their mutual themes of enduring against formidable odds and striving for a place to call home. This rescue operation created an intersection of these narratives, emerging as a poignant symbol of hope that resonates with the compassionate acts and serendipitous encounters defining both age-old myths and contemporary human stories. This artwork aims to highlight the enduring nature of struggle, chance encounters, and the intertwined destinies of disparate worlds.

Vinyl on acrylic sheets, steel signposts
Dimensions variable
2021

My project, Where is Your Allegiance? (Can Language Express a Doubt So Deep?) was specially commissioned for the esteemed Arts in Foggy Bottom Outdoor Sculpture Biennial in 2021, centered around the thought-provoking theme 'Human/Nature'. The genesis of this work sprang from reflections on the string of natural disasters that have besieged us at the onset of this new decade, including the global pandemic, the relentless impacts of climate change, and the social and political turmoil stemming from dwindling natural resources. Concurrently, we grapple with pressing domestic issues like institutional racism, police violence, and extremism.

In light of these multifaceted challenges, a series of vital questions emerged: How can we align ourselves amidst such adversity? What core values guide our actions? Are we equipped to confront the present and shape a more resilient future?

Where is Your Allegiance? comprises five compelling signs, each prominently displaying words excerpted from the American Pledge of Allegiance. However, there's a poignant twist—every word or phrase concludes with a question mark. This deliberate choice seeks to shed light on the authenticity of our commitment to these fundamental principles, which are routinely recited but not always genuinely upheld. Through this work, I explore the profound questions that arise from the gaps between words and actions.

The installation prompts us to critically assess where we currently stand as a unified nation, grappling with the complexities of religion, divisions, liberty, and equal justice for all its citizens. It lays bare the persisting chasm between privilege and deprivation, which continues to widen. To chart a course forward, we must first take a candid look at our present reality. Now, where do you stand?

Inkjet prints
Each 12.6 x 12.6 in.
2014/2019

This project began with a serendipitous encounter with a former youth basketball coach, a resident of the Barry Farm Projects in Southeast Washington, D.C. His guidance led me to the Goodman League, an annual summer basketball event that draws some of the finest local players.

In 2014, I fully immersed myself in the league, meticulously photographing every game and establishing connections with players, coaches, spectators, workers, and officials. These efforts culminated in a collection of images, now presented as the project titled Inside the Gates - The Hook.

Returning to the neighborhood in 2019, I was confronted with a profound transformation. The once-thriving community, comprised of public housing units, lay deserted or demolished to make way for redevelopment. Only the basketball court, once the heart of this vibrant community, remained a poignant symbol of its past. It was this evocative void that I sought to capture.

What had begun five years earlier as an intimate exploration of community life had now evolved into a compelling record of gentrification, eloquently narrating a tale of loss and displacement. Through my lens, I aim to offer viewers a dynamic visual journey, revealing the impact of larger societal forces on a microcosm of human existence.

All pictures on the left are from 2014; images on the right are from 2019.

Graphite on panel
12 x 12 in.
2019

Created for the exhibition, Alchemical Vessels 2019, in response to the quote: "I saw that I no longer had the choice not to care and that was more astonishing than all of this radiant spring."

A glut of choices can lead to apathy; a person cornered has no choice but to act. The people of Tunisia rose up in 2010 as a reaction to political and social oppression. Their defiance sparked a movement that would come to be called the “Arab Spring.” The term was partly an allusion to the Prague Spring of 1968—the same year the Beatles released their self-titled double album. Rendered in the style of Richard Hamilton’s iconic cover for “The White Album,” my Alchemical Vessel distills the Beatles’ song “Revolution,” an expression of John Lennon’s uncertainty about the tactics and consequences of radical political action. Lennon eventually saw the potential for drastic positive change. Like him, we must wade through a season of doubt to arrive at a place of agency.

2018

Growing up in California, I was blissfully unaware of the tremendous sacrifices my parents made to come to this country. Their escape from war-torn Vietnam in 1979 remains a haunting memory they rarely spoke about. Now, as an artist, I draw inspiration from the incomplete and informal archive of images and memories passed down from my parents.

My recent series comprises large-scale drawings meticulously crafted from charcoal and incense ash sourced from a Vietnamese ancestral altar. These drawings depict scenes of land, water, and sky, envisioning the very terrain that served as both an escape route and a perilous threat for those fleeing their homeland. Within this installation, I pay tribute to two beloved extended family members – my uncle and aunt – who were unable to complete their journey.

The act of blending charcoal with incense ash holds deep personal significance, serving as a profound act of commemoration that oscillates between mourning and hope. Through my art, I seek to invoke the memories of those who have endured untold hardships in their pursuit of a better life. It is my way of connecting with the past, exploring the nuances of history, and contemplating the complexities of human resilience and aspiration.

I would like to acknowledge the contribution of Trangđài Glassey-Trầnguyễn for her help in crafting the titles for the artwork.

Vinyl on polyester film
Each 24 x 36 in.
2016

I wanted to address some key questions surrounding power. What is it? Where does it come from? Who wields it? What did they seek to achieve? I began my research by looking at the writings, speeches, and interviews of notable past leaders, such as Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, and even examining Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf. I specifically chose figures that took up the mantel of leading states, revolutions, or social movements. These are people whose influence and historical impact are undeniable.

An End in Itself is an installation comprised of nine panels, each is as a kind of portrait, a poetic distillation of the motivations, strategies, and goals of a particular leader. Together, they form an ideological catalogue of power. Rendered in white vinyl lettering on clear polyester film, the piece hovers somewhere between subtle elegance, invisibility, and propagandistic assertiveness. By placing them in order visually, the result is a radical juxtaposition of a diverse set of figures whose aims and politics are sometimes diametrically opposed.

The title for this piece came from one consistent idea that I noticed between all these leaders: the assertion that their causes were necessary, and the fundamental belief that they and their followers stood on the right side of history. A part of the title refers to Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of the will to power, which describes what he believed was the driving force for all humans – achievement and the striving to reach the highest possible position in life. What does it mean to balance the pursuit of a righteous cause with one’s own ambitions of status? Taken together, the collection of panels reveals a concurrent inquiry, one of power as both a means and an end.

2015

As an artist, I have embarked on a creative journey that pays homage to the resilience and fortitude of refugees worldwide, including my parents. In response to the challenging global political climate that often hinders refugees' access to their rights, I felt compelled to use my artistic voice to foster recognition and support.

My charcoal drawings, created with meticulous attention using my fingertips as the blending device, aim to celebrate resilience. I want to evoke a sense of urgency in viewers, encouraging them to acknowledge our collective responsibility in protecting and advocating for those in need. Each portrait I create serves as a testament to the strength and determination of those who have faced significant challenges in pursuit of safety and a better life.

The incorporation of incense smoke into my artwork symbolizes the duality of the refugee experience - a reminder of what has been lost and a call to address current challenges. My intention is to foster empathy and understanding, bridging the gaps that may exist between viewers and those experiencing displacement and vulnerability.

Inkjet prints
Each 12.6 x 12.6 in.
2014

This project was sparked by an unexpected encounter with a former high school basketball coach and trainer from the DC area, who shared insights from his upbringing in the Barry Farm Projects of Southeast Washington, D.C. At the core of this community lies a basketball court, hosting the annual Goodman League, which draws both local amateur and professional players. Our conversation shed light on the divergent paths of playground legends who pursued NBA careers and talented youth constrained by poverty, unable to fulfill their potential.

In 2014, I set out to document this unique basketball playground and the people who bring it to life—players, coaches, spectators, workers, and officials. Over the course of three months, from June to August, I attended and photographed every game, creating a visual record of this dynamic and ever-changing community. Through this project, I aimed to use sports as a lens to examine larger themes of race, class, community, and opportunity in America.

The title of the project, "The Hook," is inspired by its musical meaning—a phrase that captures attention and leaves a lasting impression. Similarly, my work aims to resonate with viewers, offering a window into the lives and stories connected to this basketball culture. By showcasing these narratives, I hope to spark meaningful conversations that go beyond the court, addressing the broader social forces that shape individual potential and opportunity.

Inkjet prints
Each 11 x 16.5 in.
2014

This project, captured over five consecutive days in December 2013, serves as a continuation of my previous works, Một Ngày Nào Đó (One of These Days) and Cha Và Con (Father and Son), both originally photographed in 2003. It aims to offer a visual insight into the lives of the same subjects exactly ten years later. Through this artistic exploration, I hope to provoke contemplation on the passage of time and the profound impact it has on our lives and relationships.

Embracing a documentary approach, I fully immersed myself in the lives of my immediate family members, dedicating twelve hours to each of them. The resulting series, titled "Rối" (Tangled), beautifully reveals the intricacies of their individual yet interconnected journeys. Through this collection of images and reflections, I capture intimate glimpses of human emotions, aspirations, and challenges, acting as a testament to the enduring bonds and complexities within a family.

During candid interviews, I invited each subject to reflect on the past decade. My father, Hung, expressed regret over his two failed restaurant ventures while puffing on his cigarette. My mother, Mai, on the other hand, found little time to dwell on the past, her focus firmly set on the family's future. My brother, Daniel, lost in the world of video games, saw each day blend seamlessly into the next. A poignant moment unfolded as my sister, April, confronted her boyfriend about his inappropriate behavior at a party, fighting back tears. Meanwhile, my other sister, Angie, amidst organizing her possessions, contemplated her next steps after moving back home following her recent break-up with her fiancée. Their stories are “to be continued.”

2013-14

If teaching students things like critical thinking, awareness, responsibility, and agency have the potential to lead to a more equal and just world, then why is there resistance to their implementation? As I looked into arguments against what has become labeled as “progressive education,” I began to see that mischaracterization and fear mongering were tactics carried over from the 1920’s and 1950’s into the present day. During the Red Scare, being labeled “progressive” was deliberately associated with radicalism. Today, “progressive” has become a synonym for “Socialist” and a stand-in for Communism/anti-capitalism/anti-democracy/anti-Americanism. As a dirty word, “progressive” represents the fear of foreign invaders infiltrating the very fabric of the American way of life; “progressive” is a threat to our traditional methods and values.

This body of work draws from that paranoia. Within the space of the gallery, elements that reference the traditional American classroom such as blackboards, plastic chairs, overhead projectors and even the iconic dunce hat have been recreated but modified. Each piece possesses two titles, pointing to its operation as a dual signifier. On one hand, the work functions as a critique by pointing out the contradictions embedded in education with its overemphasis of competition, reliance on obedience, and suspicion of dissension. Simultaneously, the work references philosophical, social, and political ideas and art movements that challenge traditional modes of thinking. The goal for this project is to call for a reassessment of the position of education in American society and its role in our democracy. This exhibition strives to embody all we hope for out of school, a space that encourages learning and independence, but also the very thing that we fear it could become: a site of conflict as a political tool.

Vinyl on polyester film
Each 24 x 36 in.
2013

Each sign is a distillation of an important, creative figure's philosophy about teaching.

The recent direction of my work emerged out of a process of reflecting on my role as an educator: how I teach in the classroom and the values I want to instill in my students. I began my research by looking at artists and writers who made teaching central to their various creative practices. After pouring over writings and interviews in which these scholars expressed their individual approaches to education, I came to realize that as educators we are all driven by the same idealistic belief: that with the right methodology, we can direct a new generation of free thinkers to grow into positive and active contributors to our civil society.

Carving and graphite on antique school desk
24 x 23 x 20 in.
2013

Created specifically for an exhibition in Washington D.C., which sought artists' responses to the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, my artwork aimed to serve as a powerful catalyst for a change in the ongoing gun law debate. It was essential for the piece to avoid being perceived as mere propaganda and instead strike a balanced and dynamic tone.

Using a pencil, I meticulously wrote the words "please no more" repeatedly on the exact same spot, leaving a permanent indentation in the desk. This simple yet impactful message evokes multiple interpretations within the artwork. On one hand, it conveys urgent pleading from the perspective of children facing a disturbed young man. On the other, it subtly prods us to take decisive action to prevent such tragedies from recurring.

By creating an artwork that stimulates nuanced thoughts and emotions, I aimed to foster meaningful dialogue surrounding the complex issue of gun laws. The work serves as a call to action and a poignant reminder of the consequences of inaction. My intent was to engage viewers in thoughtful contemplation, urging us all to collectively work towards a safer and more compassionate society.

2012

In this series, I delve into the profound symbolism of ancestral altars, seen through the lens of a lost soul - my deceased uncle, who tragically disappeared in the vast ocean while attempting to escape Vietnam by boat. Using white pastel on translucent Dura-Lar and drafting film, I craft these negative images to evoke an ethereal quality, delicately suspended between realms of existence.

The Moment We Separated or Together Again are renderings of my parents during their initial arrival at a refugee camp in Thailand. Inspired by the ancestral portraits traditionally displayed on family altars, these drawings encapsulate both the moment of their arrival and the departure from this world, intertwining their stories with ancestral reverence.

A Puff for the Weary Soul or My Opiate presents a powerful dual imagery reminiscent of incense smoke rising from an altar and smoke signals, evoking emotions that oscillate between mourning and hope.

To Those Not Here or The Siren’s Song takes the form of a poignant banner and a poetic declaration, representing the dreams and aspirations of the Vietnamese boat people who, regrettably, never reached their destination. Their bodies now rest in the depths of the sea, yet their souls continue to yearn for a place called home.

By reimagining the ancestral altar, I seek to honor the past, shed light on the complexities of human experiences, and invite a profound dialogue about displacement, dreams, and the enduring search for belonging.

Dirt, wood, clothing (Lacoste tennis shirt, Levi's 501 jean, Converse Chuck Taylor canvas sneakers)
84 x 28 x 48 in.
2011

Driven by a profound fascination with the indomitable presence of history, I sought to summon the specter of those who disappeared while undertaking the perilous journey across the ocean, mirroring the path once taken by my parents. My latest project, Lớp/Vỏ (Layer/Shell or Crust), delves into the enigmatic depths of the past, where remnants of lost souls emerge from beneath layers of earth.

As the viewer approaches, they are met with a compelling sight - a profound excavation of memory, meticulously packed in strata of soil. These are the haunting remains of those who once vanished, swallowed by the relentless sea, only to resurface through the sands of time.

This work serves as a poignant memorial, preserving the echoes of those who embarked on an unforgettable journey, forever etched in the collective consciousness. Through this evocative installation, I invite viewers to confront the inexorable ties between the past and the present and to contemplate the enduring resilience of human stories that refuse to remain buried.

Wood, blue tarps, aluminized mylar, closed-loop video projection
Dimensions variable
2011

The essence of this piece lies in the profound duality of the Vietnamese language—where "biến" means transformation and "mất" could be translated as loss or disappearance. "Biến mất" means to vanish.

At its core, this project delves into the captivating enigma of the ocean, an alluring expanse for those seeking both freedom and transcendence. I present a thought-provoking interactive element within this artistic exploration—the viewer is invited to step onto a structure reminiscent of a coffin or overturned boat. As they approach the reflective, translucent material, a faint projection of themselves gradually fades away.

Biến/Mất encapsulates the paradoxical allure of the vast ocean, one that has witnessed countless journeys of hope and aspiration and heart-wrenching disappearances. The artwork beckons viewers to contemplate the mysteries beyond the horizon, where dreams merge with uncertainty.

By engaging with the translucent representation of themselves, visitors are prompted to introspect on their transient existence, resonating with the evanescent nature of life's journey. Through this captivating installation, I aim to invoke a deep sense of introspection and evoke an emotional connection to the stories of those who have ventured into the vast unknown, where transformation and vanishing coalesce.

Acrylic paint on panel, fiberglass
Dimensions variable
2010

The title of my installation, Untitled (Bien Girl), holds a profound linguistic significance, as "bien" translates to "good" in Spanish and French, while in Vietnamese, a tonal language, it signifies "ocean."

As the viewer steps into the softly illuminated gallery, they are met with a captivating sight—an arrangement featuring a female mannequin positioned between two striped paintings facing each other from opposing walls.

This work emerged from my research into the experiences of the Vietnamese boat people and the harrowing accounts of women abducted by Thai pirates. The mannequin figures, placed as if "floating" in a symbolic ocean, evoke the notion of the "good (Vietnamese) girl" who tragically fell prey to sex slavery after being abducted and sold. The artwork carefully occupies the space between two paintings that symbolically reference the flags of the former Republic of South Vietnam and the United States.

A striking red line cuts across the figure, symbolizing the deeply affecting divide between violence and commerce, a poignant intersection unveiled yet cleverly concealed, seemingly formal and unassuming.

Untitled (Bien Girl) embodies the resilience and struggle of those whose lives were forever altered by the cruelties of human trafficking, a haunting exploration of the dichotomy between appearances and the profound stories that lie beneath. The artwork invites viewers to reflect on the harsh realities faced by these women, while also recognizing their strength and spirit in the face of adversity.

HD video
Duration of performance: 4.5 hours
2010

Drawing inspiration from the avant-garde performance art of the 1970s and 80s, my project delves into the captivating notion of disassociation from the present. Seeking to create an immersive space for introspection, I employed repetitive writing as a powerful tool to anchor myself in the "moment" and heighten my awareness of the physical, emotional, and mental sensations coursing through me.

Central to this endeavor was the convergence of physical exertion and psychoanalysis, enabling a profound exploration of the intricate relationship between my environment, body, and identity. By transcending the confines of current reality, I was able to carve out a unique realm, one that allowed for a reflective examination of past experiences and the boundless potential of new possibilities.

2009

Within the confines of the installation, viewers actively engaged in an exploration of interactions facilitated by gloryholes—discreet openings often found in public restrooms or adult entertainment venues, enabling anonymous sexual encounters between individuals on opposite sides of a partition. This unique arrangement fosters an environment of liberated exploration, allowing participants to delve into physical pleasure while maintaining anonymity.

Conversely, the same structure that facilitates intimate interactions also functions as a separator that restricts engagement to mere observation. On one side, an individual may seek voyeuristic gratification by discreetly witnessing the other person's activities. This intriguing aspect of the gloryhole transforms it into a conduit for secretive observations devoid of direct physical contact. In essence, the gloryhole embodies a compelling duality—simultaneously acting as a portal to private physical encounters and as a means for discreetly observing the actions of others.

The title, Curiouser & Curiouser, is a reference to Alice in Wonderland, symbolizing the journey of curious exploration within this enigmatic environment. Moreover, the gloryhole transforms the viewer's perspective in terms of scale and position, invoking a sense of curiosity and wonder as they traverse the installation.

Throughout this artistic journey, I embarked on a profound quest to explore how individuals seek and adapt spaces to manifest their deepest desires and fantasies. The project sheds light on the intricacies of human behavior, offering insight into the profound interplay between our innermost urges and the world we inhabit.

Silver gelatin prints
11 x 14 in.
2003

In Cha Và Con (Father and Son), I capture a tender, yet somewhat uneasy, moment between my father and my younger brother. The emotional distance that has emerged as a result of my younger sibling being raised primarily by our other sibling, is palpable. However, despite this complexity, the unmistakable expressions of care and love, often conveyed through labor, are present in my father's gaze.

This artwork unveils the intricacies of the father-son relationship, shaped by unique family dynamics. It reflects both the intimacy and the challenges we have faced. The emotions in my father's expression mirror the love and concern he holds for my brother, a love that is demonstrated through nurturing gestures and dedicated care.

Through this series of photographs, I invite viewers to witness this deeply personal moment of human connection, one that goes beyond words and highlights the complexities of family bonds.

Silver gelatin prints
11 x 14 in.
2003

Một Ngày Nào Đó (One of These Days) is an evocative series of portraits, meticulously captured on 50mm film, that offers an intimate peek into the lives of two members of my family. In the first portrait, my mother is depicted sitting and resting, finding a moment of reprieve after dedicating long hours of hard work at a phở restaurant in Portland, Oregon. Another portrayal captures her adorned with a look of pride and love while carrying out her daily duties. The third photograph presents my 18-year-old sister, who selflessly cares for our younger siblings at home.

Within these candid and documentary-style images, a narrative unfolds, unveiling the resilience and fortitude of the females in my family. Each portrait is a testament to their unwavering commitment in handling the diverse forms of labor required from them on a daily basis. Through this visual exploration, I aim to celebrate the remarkable women in my family and offer a glimpse into the shared journey of women who face multifaceted responsibilities.