The guardian of the Vietnamese spirit in the land of Tra

There, the young man Pham Van Tuan sat silently, his entire focus concentrated on the hand holding a strange pen, its red-hot iron nib slowly gliding across the wooden surface.

Pham Van Tuan and some of his works painted with a burning pen.

There was no scraping sound of charcoal, no rustling of a paintbrush. Only a soft, almost whispering "hiss" as the flame from the brush tip "eats" into each grain of wood, leaving behind a dark brown burn mark. I watched the thin, fragrant wisps of smoke rise and dissipate into the air. Under that skillful hand, the five words "A peaceful mind brings peace to all" gradually appeared, their lines as soft as silken calligraphy, yet possessing the weight and depth of fire and wood.

He paused, gently raised his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, then took a deep breath—a gesture truly befitting an artist "breathing" with their work.

Looking at the young man with his scholarly appearance, his hands accustomed to holding scissors and clippers in noisy hair salons, few would guess that he could find himself in this tranquility. What led this young man to leave a stable job and embark on a niche artistic path, using fire to tell cultural stories in this land of Thai Nguyen ?

Born in 1994 in the port city, Tuan, like many other young men, graduated from high school and then sought a career path. He chose hairdressing, went south to learn the trade, and opened a small salon in Buon Ma Thuot city. Life in the highland city went on like that, amidst the clicking of scissors and the casual conversations of customers, until the day he visited a friend's house.

The flame of passion for art, which had smoldered since childhood, suddenly flared up intensely. Tuan borrowed tools and began experimenting on his own during the quiet hours at the salon.

His first work, a calligraphy piece titled "Parents," "written" with fire, was clumsy, the strokes shaky, but it contained all the eager anticipation of a new beginning.

He hung it in his shop, not to sell it, but to admire it himself. Then a neighbor saw it and begged him to sell it. “When I received the money, I wasn’t happy because I sold the painting, but because someone understood what I had created. That small moment ignited a strong belief in me.”

Belief is the starting point, but the path of self-learning is never a bed of roses. Pyrography is an art of relentless perseverance. On a wooden surface, every single mistake is incredibly difficult to correct. The artist must master the heat of the pen, making the flame obey their will.

"After finishing a complex painting, sometimes my hands turn bright red and blister from the heat," Tuan shared, his voice softening.

He still vividly remembers the feeling of helplessness, the urge to cry, when a cherished work, a portrait he had spent a whole week creating, suddenly cracked due to a sudden change in weather. “All my hard work went up in smoke. At that moment, I just wanted to throw it all away. But then, looking back at the finished paintings, looking back at why I started, I found another piece of wood and started over.”

A painting created using the pyrography technique by Pham Van Tuan.

But the difficulty of technique is not as daunting as the difficulty of "breathing life" into the work. By day, Tuan is the owner of a hair salon. At night, he is a diligent student, self-learning calligraphy to perfect his brushstrokes and oil painting to understand color and composition. Some nights, he paints continuously until dawn, so exhausted that his hands tremble and he can barely hold a brush. He believes that fire tests gold, and hardship tests strength. Painting is not only a passion but also a way to hone himself.

“This art taught me patience,” Tuan said. “Patience in the heat, perseverance with every small detail, and calmness in the face of failure. It forced me to slow down, to listen to myself, to listen to the wood grain, to the fire. All of that came from long days sitting in front of a piece of wood, holding a red-hot pen in my hand, drawing each stroke one by one.”

In 2021, at the Chrysanthemum Festival at Ba Vang Pagoda, amidst the crowds of festival-goers, fate brought Tuan together with a girl from Thai Nguyen. Their love blossomed simply, just like their personalities. A year later, they got married, and Tuan decided to leave everything behind to follow his wife back to her hometown, known for its "premium tea," to start a new life.

"For me, Thai Nguyen is a matter of fate," Tuan smiled, a gentle smile. "I didn't just follow my wife here; it seems this land chose me."

His wife, Dang Thi Ngoc Anh, is the one who understands and supports her husband's artistic path more than anyone else. Dang Thi Ngoc Anh shared: "At first, I just thought he was skillful with his hands. But the more I watched him work, the more I felt a passionate soul for art with remarkable perseverance. I not only love him as a person, but I also love the way he is so passionate about the culture of his homeland."

And Thai Nguyen gave Tuan inspiration he had never had before. No longer dealing with generic themes, Tuan's art began to be imbued with the spirit of the tea region. He could sit for hours admiring the lush green of the Tan Cuong tea hills in the early morning mist, and then return to recreate it on rustic walls.

One late June afternoon at Moc Store (Phan Dinh Phung Ward, Thai Nguyen), I sat next to Tuan as he used a brush to paint on the brim of a conical hat. The sight was magical: the delicate white hat and the gradually fading brushstrokes of color created white tea blossoms with lush green leaves. The brush glided lightly, and the colors spread evenly.

Tuan's gaze was serious, his hands steady, his soul seemingly immersed in each brushstroke. I sensed that he wasn't just painting; he was weaving a story about his homeland, transforming the simple conical hat into a small messenger, carrying the spirit of Thai Nguyen tea to all corners of the world.

Inside his small room, Tuan dedicates most of the space to displaying his artwork. It's not a flashy art gallery, but a private world where his soul is fully revealed. I was particularly drawn to the portrait of President Ho Chi Minh with a child, painted with a burning pen. Each smudge, varying in intensity, created an astonishing depth to the President's compassionate gaze. Nearby was a painting of President Ho Chi Minh sitting and reading a newspaper in the war zone, quiet and pensive, evoking an entire glorious period of history.

"For me, painting about Uncle Ho and the history of our nation is not just a passion for art, but also a way to awaken patriotism and pride in myself and in every viewer," Tuan confided.

Without formal training or major exhibitions, Pham Van Tuan is an unassuming artist who chooses to live and communicate through his brushstrokes. He doesn't consider himself an artist, humbly saying, "I am a lover of Vietnamese culture, and I am trying every way to preserve it in my own way."

From a barber, Pham Van Tuan has become a storyteller through fire and brushstrokes, born from a burning passion, nurtured by persistent hard work, and elevated by a deep love for his homeland. With wood, fire, color, and his whole heart, he connects the past and present, gradually establishing his reputation through each mural, calligraphy piece, wall hanging, and pyrography artwork.

If you've ever sat down and watched Tuan paint, as I once did, you'll understand that true art doesn't need a grand stage; it only needs a sincere heart. And on that small balcony, Pham Van Tuan's flame of passion continues to burn, persistently and with inspiration.