Unfurling Charlotte Artist Kenny Nguyen’s Complex Silk Paintings
There’s a certain magic unfolding in artist Kenny Nguyen’s North Carolina studio, ensconced in a 94-year-old former textile mill in Concord— a small town about 25 miles from Charlotte. Morning sun streams through its tall steel windows, illuminating exposed-brick walls and paint-splattered floors. The building’s former purpose is fitting for Nguyen’s creative output: vast, colorful paintings that employ silk as their basis.
Following a childhood spent along the fertile plains of the Mekong Delta in Vietnam, Nguyen moved to the country’s bustling Ho Chi Minh City to study fashion, ultimately immigrating to the United States as a young adult. In Charlotte, he studied fine art at the University of North Carolina, graduating in 2015.
“Coming to a new country made me look back at what I remembered most about Vietnam,” Nguyen recalls. His chosen medium—long associated with wealth and status—has been produced in the nation’s famed “silk villages” for millennia. Considering its ubiquity in the East, “I realized if I hadn’t moved, I wouldn’t see silk for the cultural symbolism I do now,” adds Nguyen, who recognized an opportunity to explore themes of heritage and identity. Many Vietnamese artists paint on this precious textile, but Nguyen wanted to push the practice even further.
Though they resemble tapestries at first glance, the artist’s complex, textural artworks defy categorization. “I call them ‘deconstructed paintings,’ ” Nguyen says. He begins by cutting colorless, transparent swaths of raw silk into strips before dipping them into marbleized pools of acrylic paint. Working on the floor of his studio, he reassembles the still-wet ribbons into weave-like patterns, letting the paint’s glue-like nature bind the strands together. It’s a meticulous process, and large works, which can reach 40 feet in length, often take up to a month to complete.
Once they are dry, Nguyen mounts the creations to his studio walls and begins pinning them—much in the way he once draped dress forms in fashion school. This process transforms the work into a sculpture of sorts; its fluid volume undulating like river currents or monsoon breezes. In other instances, he leaves the piece hanging flat, although the final configuration is often spontaneous, sometimes decided on-site. “I like to give collectors and interior designers a voice in the hanging process,” the artist shares. “Do they want something calming or something more sculptural? It becomes a collaboration.”
The artist is currently immersed in his “Eruption” series, with several of those works set to be featured in his upcoming September show at Charlotte’s Mint Museum Uptown. “They’re my most complex pieces to date,” Nguyen says of the new compositions—some of which feature color-blocked components or multiple layers that overlap, creating greater dimensionality. “They’re an invitation for the viewer to look more closely,” he continues. These pieces contain multitudes, much like the artist himself. “I call them paintings because I use a lot of painting techniques, but my works are really hybrids—like me. I am Vietnamese, but I am also American.”