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Contextual Statement and Critical Reflection on Beneath the Membrane

Contextual Statement and Critical Reflection on Beneath the Membrane

Contextual Statement

Beneath the Membrane is a project by I and my wife, whose name is Nguyen Viet Trinh, developed through an exhibition at the Ho Chi Minh City University of Fine Arts and a short documentary. The project asks: How can mixed media installation practice explore intergenerational and cultural gender norms in Vietnam? And how can collaborative processes between husband and wife subvert such norms? Our processes of collaboration, reflection, and dialogue form the core of the project, while also opening a space for audiences to experience and thereby reflect on the invisible structures that shape intimacy and collaboration.


The project begins from the recognition that gender norms are both standards and pressures, and their boundaries are fragile (Linh, 2021). Judith Butler argues that not only gender, but even the concept of sex is not immutable; rather, it is produced through multiple discourses of power, including science, politics, medicine, and social regulation (Butler, 1999: 10). Sociological research has similarly shown that the dominant values of socialisation shape expressions of femininity and masculinity (Bilton et al., 1983: 148), and that gender roles are closely tied to the biological sex assigned to each individual (Akdemir, 2017: 12). Moreover, while the cultural and creative industries are often praised as open, diverse, and egalitarian, persistent inequalities in gender, race, class, and disability remain (Conor, Gill & Taylor, 2015). These contradictions provide the wider social context for the project.


In practice, we employed methods, such as filming the process of collaboration and working with our everyday materials. Acts of care, personal memories, and intimate emotions were transformed into artworks, serving as visual data to critically reflect on gender norms. Additionally, we wanted to explore gender through materiality and minimalist forms that transform over time, similar to Nguyen Phuong Linh’s Boat, a simple salt sculpture shaped like a boat that slowly dissolves throughout the exhibition (MSU Museum 2012), reflecting her ongoing interest in femininity, transformation, and ephemerality (Post Vidai 2015). Furthermore, we wanted to use domestic objects to speak about gender, similar to the way Mona Hatoum explores the metaphorical potential of household items. Hatoum seeks to draw viewers into a physical and emotional encounter, opening up associations and journeys of meaning (Demertzi 2021).


In terms of public outcomes, the project includes both an exhibition and a documentary film. The exhibition is conceived as a discursive form, a political event, and an aesthetic space that activates conversations about gender. Walter Benjamin noted that “exhibition-value” is not only about visibility, but also a political practice that brings art into the public sphere, creating debate and collective meaning (Steeds, 2014: 15). Steeds further emphasises the exhibition as an expanded aesthetic space where display, layout, and audience experience co-produce meaning (Steeds, 2014: 13). Alongside this, documentary film is used as an accessible, popular, and truthful medium that can transcend spatial and cultural barriers. Benjamin argued that mechanical reproduction technologies expand the accessibility and experience of art on a large scale (Benjamin, 2008: 12). Hito Steyerl also highlight that documentary is both a tool for presenting truths and a site where humans, machines, images, and sounds connect (Stallabrass & Whitechapel Art Gallery 2013: 145), opening up possibilities for imagining alternative social structures.


Critical Reflection

The process of making Beneath the Membrane has helped us understand ourselves, each other, and our families more deeply.


Our idea stemmed from the division of domestic labour, tasks we both had to perform daily. We wanted to reconcile our artistic practice with this shared responsibility, echoing Ukeles’ call to bring maintenance work into artistic consciousness (Ukeles 1969: 3). Through this project, we hoped to reflect on and resist gender performativity, as described by Butler as a stylized repetition of acts (Butler 1999: 43).


During this process, we often spoke with our parents. My family rarely shares personal feelings, as everyone tends to focus on their own work. Through the project, however, my wife and I began to ask our mothers about their experiences of marriage and domestic life. Talking with our parents helped us understand the gendered expectations inherited from Confucian values and how these persist in family life. The project created unexpected channels of communication and connection between us and our families. As Guin writes, communication is a way in which we exchange the spiritual parts of ourselves with another (Guin 2004: 88).


Throughout the making process, my wife and I had many intense discussions, and sometimes arguments, about materials and production. For example, in Breadwinners, I once proposed compressing steel swords into a column, but my wife felt it was too costly and impractical. In Shame, she wanted to make ceramic curtains, while I worried it would be fragile and dangerous. These disagreements became integral to our practice, encouraging us to listen more closely. As Cox notes, listening is a form of interpretation and therefore political, involving continuous negotiation between entities (Cox 2016: 22). Gradually, we discovered materials that were familiar and intimate within our own home. We decided to use beads to create the curtain for Shame, as beads have long been associated with beliefs surrounding cosmic and social order, and resistance against rigid gender roles and sexual control (Sciama 1998: 1). When working on Breadwinners, I realized that pumice stones could act as a dialogic material. Though it appears solid, it is in fact made of glass, a fragile structure. This quality mirrored the invisible ways that everyday practices sustain patriarchal norms. The repetitive, meticulous act of threading beads and gluing stones made me acutely aware of emotional labour. We came to value care and patience as artistic gestures, acts that are both gendered and resistant.


As the exhibition deadline approached, another conflict arose: my wife had not finished the curtains, a crucial element of the show. She was exhausted from balancing household duties, caring for our fur childs, and making the work. I felt guilty for underestimating the weight of the domestic work she carried. This moment made me realize that artistic creation is inseparable from the structures of gendered power in daily life. Gender norms not only exist in society but also infiltrate how we organize our creative labour. Becoming aware of this pushed me to reconsider my own role. When we realised the curtain could not be finished in time, my wife proposed weaving it during the exhibition as a performance. Weaving within an academic setting evokes feminist concerns as both artistic expression and political practice (Stourna 2023). By transforming the university space into a laboratory, studio, and home, the performance could reveal the shifting position of women in Vietnamese society and open conversations about identity, gender, family, and individual existence.


During the exhibition, artist Huu Thanh Tung offered me a new perspective on my own work. With Breadwinners, he inserted his head into the circular hole to listen and walked barefoot on the stones, describing this as an essential form of connection between viewer and artwork. A PhD candidate named Tuan also commented that incorporating elements of feng shui could make the exhibition space feel more like a Vietnamese home. These responses revealed the work’s capacity to invite unexpected readings. I realised that embracing uncertainty is part of artistic practice, allowing viewers to complete the work through their own bodily and emotional engagement. Midway through the exhibition, one projector showing Sterile suddenly burned out after running for several days. We had to quickly replace it with a screen. Although the work was not presented in its intended form, we accepted the imperfection and adapted calmly. This incident reminded me that flexibility and composure are also forms of artistic practice, where absolute control is never possible.


After this project, we reflected deeply and felt grateful for how it allowed us to confront our personal patterns, accept risks, and develop greater empathy toward each other. We see our practice continuing to explore intimacy and gendered power relations through collaboration and everyday gestures. In future projects, we aim to expand into spatial and architectural forms that foster intimate dialogue and rethink the boundaries between living, working, loving, and creating.


References

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  • 2. BARLOW, Anne (ed.). 2016. What Now? : The Politics of Listening. London: Black Dog Publishing.

  • 3. BENJAMIN, Walter. 2008. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. London: Penguin.

  • 4. Bilton, T. and K. Bonett, P. Jones, M. Stanworth, K. Sheard, A. Webster. 1983. Introductory Sociology. London: MacKays of ChathamPIC.

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  • 13. POST VIDAI. 2015. ‘Flowers’. Post Vidai [online]. Available at: https://www.postvidai.com/flowers-3/  [accessed 28 April 2025]

  • 14. RANCIÈRE, Jacques. 2004. ‘THE EMANCIPATED SPECTATOR’. Artforum [online]. Available at: https://www.artforum.com/features/the-emancipated-spectator-175248/ [accessed 16 June 2025]

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  • 18. Stourna, Athena. 2023. ‘The Domestic Kitchen as Performance Space: The Female Artist vs the Housewife’. Critical Stages [online]. Available at: https://www.critical-stages.org/28/the-domestic-kitchen-as-performance-space-the-female-artists-vs-the-housewife/ [accessed 2 December 2025]

  • 19. UKELES, Mierle Laderman. 1969. ‘Maniesto: Maintenance Art - Proposal for an exhibition “Care”’. Queens Museum [online]. Available at: https://queensmuseum.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Ukeles-Manifesto-for-Maintenance-Art-1969.pdf [accessed 11 November 2025]

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