At night, the streetlight embraces its surroundings, touches the walls, then slowly evaporates into the void, leaving you with nothing to hold on to. A mundane alley during daylight hours becomes unrecognisable, though strangely familiar. The streetlight becomes a spot of hope in the middle of the night.
Hanoi has been just that for me. At a time where I could not stand to be where I was anymore, I came to Hanoi, where everything was unknown, foreign but strangely familiar. Hanoi made sense to me, I needed to be here.
These images might create angst and uneasiness, because it might feel like the darkness is getting to you. They are a representation of the Freudian uncanny, something familiar yet strange, incongruous, creating a conflict with your experience. I strive for the uncanny; to me, they are peaceful and serene. It’s like a hypnotic eternity that time seems to have abandoned into a heavy silence.
When I am asked about why I fell in love with this Hanoi, my answer is always the same; for its light. It’s a photographer’s love story. Light in Hanoi moves me. Foggy mornings, dawn in summer time, or deep in the night, when I see these types of lights, I know I am where I belong.
Driving at night in Hanoi is when I feel the most free, the happiest. Nobody is on the road. I own it, and in the darkness, I see so many possibilities.