Between Seed and Tree: Hiền Hoàng in Conversation with Taco Hidde Bakker

THB:

You've told me that you're currently engaged in collaborations with scientists. I'm curious as to how artistic-scientific collaborations take shape and how they might mutually inform two practices that are different in many respects. How do your collaborations inform your artistic research and practice. And what do scientists learn in return?

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HH:

My collaborations with scientists initially happened organically, as I came across several scientific papers during my research, such as studies on tree scanning, vibration measurement, and environmental data collection. With my project Garden of Entanglement from last year, I began working more intensively with researchers from the University of Florence and the University of Stuttgart. I believe that both scientists and artists share a deep, almost obsessive curiosity for their respective niches. This creates a common ground despite our different approaches. For me, working with scientific methods leads to questions about subjectivity and digital perception. For example, what does it mean to translate a living subject, like a tree, into data? How do we observe things with our own eyes versus how a computer perceives them? These questions push me to think about the limits of representation and the gap between reality and its possible digital reconstruction. In return, I think in art-science collaborations scientists could gain different perspectives—shifts in how they approach their own research. In my latest project Garden of Entanglement, for example, our work inspired the researcher from the University of Florence to experiment with different frequencies and activities to study the natural vibrations of trees in novel ways. We are also writing a research paper together based on this collaboration and we're looking into further developments in this area.

THB:

I see that for you're current research you've collected multiple books and articles on botany and colonialism. You've also been visiting several museums and archives during your brief stay in the Netherlands, besides locating several special trees in the city and beyond. How does your visiting of museums and archives and doing bibliographical research entwine with your artistic process?

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HH:

In my earlier work, I incorporated personal archival materials, such as photos, letters and objects which I had found in my aunt’s house. I placed them in installations and photo sets alongside other elements, so that I could question their meaning and symbolism. Currently, I approach archives from a more critical perspective: Who created them? For what purpose were they created? Who was their intended audience? Is there anything missing in these collections? I’ve encountered challenges in my research during my time in Amsterdam, partly due to time constraints, but also because information about the Japanese Pagoda tree is inherently incomplete. However, I find these gaps compelling. As an artist, I’m not just looking for what’s there, but also for what is absent—what has been erased or left out. It could leave space for questions and speculation, allowing for imagined scenarios and new narratives. Sometimes, the most interesting aspects of things lie in what cannot be seen.

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THB:

A final question about your final steps in the artistic process, before you publicize your work. I already witnessed a transformation from your 'wild' studio setting on the afternoon of my visit to an 'open studio' setting the evening after, where you arranged things a little different. Because your work consists of such diverse thematic strands besides various techniques and media, I wonder how you decide how to weave them together for public presentations.

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HH: 

About the installation for the open studio: usually I work with quite a clear concept in mind. I would, for example, sketch things out or create a 3D mockup of the installation. But this time, during the residency, I chose to embrace the ongoing nature of my research. Rather than fixating on a fixed concept, I gathered all the materials I had been working with – prints, objects, fragments and texts – and let them speak to each other. It also helped that I was living with the works. After waking up, I would walk straight into the studio, kind of immersing myself in the atmosphere of the space and all the elements it contained. I guess that allowed me to trace the threads between the various media and ideas. When I began arranging the installation, I focused on building a composition through contrast, paying attention to heights, textures, and rhythms between the materials. In the end, I wanted the audience not only to look at my work, but to step into it and the process itself.

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