As the sun sat on top of the Indian-almond tree, sunbeam flickered through the branches leaving golden spots on the ground, the neighborhood started its day. In a narrow 2m alley, 98 Mai Hac De, located in the center of the capital city, everything you saw, smelled, and every person you interacted was a piece of the Vietnamese culture, and it will be apart of you.
When my eyelids were slowly getting ready to see the day, my ears were already picking up the sound of my father’s classical music on the record player. Separated with a thin wall full of cracks and holds, wooden doors were opening and closing; people were talking loudly to wake each other up; the neighbors were quickly starting their day. Sudden as a lightning bolt, the loud creaking metal sounds of the green rusty gate made me jumped even though I have heard that sound for my entire life. It became an alarm clock for me to get out of the pile of blankets and pillows on the ground and ran down the old moldy stair to hug my parents’ goodbye.
Sat behind that iron gate looking out as my parents slowly vanished into the flow of the people, I noticed how Hanoi became a vivid picture in my mind. Wires hung from light pole to another interlaced like spider web. Under it was people quickly pacing to get home before the rush hour. All of the passing strangers and nature mixed together to create a united color of beautiful chaos. The bright emerald green and the pale chartreuse green color of the trees, the azure blue of the sky, the silver-white of the cloud, the rich red and bright yellow of the national flags flapping in the wind, the deep dark black of the hair on every one that passed by, and thousands of other colors, Hanoi have it all. There were always people talking and chatting, music playing and blasting on the radio, sounds of cars and motor engine; it all harmonized together to create the song of Hanoi.
I was a happy child in an alley full of culture and color. I came from a family of honorable artists, my dad is a pianist, my mom is a traditional musician, my uncle is a painter, and my aunt is a sculptor. I grew up in a place that art is present in everything around you. I was taught to nurture the soul with art, but all of the beauty was slowly dying through the years in front of my own two eyes. The sounds of people talking started to fade as they look at the smartphones and walked soullessly. The tree outside is now gone, so a new road could be built. Hanoi’s color was fading like the sun setting at the west, slowing dimming for the moon to take over. The growth of society causes the change in culture, and beautiful things were left behind in the past. It is undeniable that the new was replacing the old, but we can still capture the culture, the beauty of the people, and the environment with a paintbrush or a song and make it for the new generation. I believe that every piece of art tells a story, it goes beyond time and space. I was learned not to only see the beauty in the simple things around me but also learned to create with my imagination. I want to connect the past to the present, for every generation to see the simple art in its purest present. Everywhere I go, I always bring three things an open-mind to learn the new, a part of that small girl at the iron gate, that alley with that classical music on the radio to remind me of the past, and a brush to capture and create.
Out of that alley, it made me see the world differently. Every factor of 98 Mai Hac De enrich my mind — the culture, the color, the people, and the beauty in the simple. It became a base for my identity to grow, and it shaped me to the path of becoming an artist.
My's Life 