Touching the Earth: Photographs from Vietnam
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"The practice of Touching the Earth, also known as bowing deeply, helps us return to the earth and to our roots, and to recognize that we are not alone but connected to a whole stream of spiritual and blood ancestors. We touch the earth to let go of the idea that we are separate and to remind us that we are the earth and part of life."
-Thich Nhat Hahn, Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist
I traveled to Vietnam in 2011. Though I grew up in Asia, I hand never before been. At some point in my young life, someone told me there were more colors of green in Vietnam than anywhere else in the world. I've always remembered that - and in the fall of 2011, I had the chance to go see for myself.
The images were taken in the beautiful, misty Halong Bay area - land of the descending dragon; in the cloud-draped mountains of far northwestern Vietnam; and on the jungle island of Phu Quoc, off the southwest coast.
The images are centered around a search for simple beauty and a deeper connection with our earth, this place we call home.
The Family Home
This is a story about my family, and the house my father grew up
in just outside of Philadelphia. His parents bought the house in 1961.
They raised five children there and lost one. My grandfather was in the
Merchant Marines - fixing engines in the steamy underbelly of the
liberty ships that sailed in WWII. Later, he worked for the Pennsylvania
steel companies. My grandmother curled her hair and cooked up great,
hearty meals for raucous family dinners around the dining room table. I
visited every summer with my parents, on home-leave from Asia, where we
lived. We moved around a lot - the Philly house was always there to come
home to.
I spent many summers splashing around in the creek out back of the house
- digging clay from the banks, finding bright, discarded fish tank
pebbles mixed in with the gray and brown ones, catching crayfish beneath
flat stones, chasing the millions of blinking fireflies around the yard
at dusk.
These are my good memories - my comfortable, safe memories of childhood
and home. But, there is a sadness, too. Up and down the street, in most
of the houses, people have stories of cancer. My family does too. My grandfather would tell stories
of all the people in all the houses who had struggled with cancer -
over and over, in far too many houses, the same sad stories. Something is wrong with the neighborhood - but nobody knows what.
Most of the pictures in the series were made on what I knew would be my
last stay at the house, in March of 2010. The house has been sold.
The work is an homage to our family and our history - our shared
memories, both good and bad. It is one last look at the house we called
home for so many years.