Kwinnie Lê

artistic research - community - language - performance - decolonization

I am an artist, researcher, poet and shapeshifter working on the intersection of body and language. Through examining their abilities to simultaneously admit and exclude, I hope to uncover counternarratives while still acknowledging these exclusions as inseparable from violence. Yet, a story of survival can still be told. They reveal themselves in performances, installations and poetry, though morphing into many more forms. By departing from mythology, folklore and oral histories, I situate ancestral traditions in contemporary urban life. My work desires to question the power of perception and re-suture narratives of classification. Currently, I'm investigating the revival, reclamation and (re)inscription of traditional tattoo practices and engage in semi-fictional narratives as a mode of critical speculation.


cạo gió - "Cạo gió" (Scrape the wind) incorporates an ancient Vietnamese practice where the skin is scraped with a coin or spoon with in medicinal oil. This ritual is based on the old belief that unexplained illnesses are caused by the touch of 'bad wind.' Even today, post-traumatic stress disorders among Vietnamese refugees is interpreted as conditions of wind. This video contains fragments of a conversation between the artist and their parents in the background.
The land of the tattooed [textile + performance] - "The Land of the Tattooed" is a semi-fictional state that derives its name from the historical ancient state of Vietnam: Văn Lang, which roughly translates to "the land of the tattooed." As the name suggests, everyone was covered from head to toe in tattoos. The origin of this practice was mainly attributed to those who worked on the water, tattooing their entire bodies to resemble sea monsters. This form of tattooing was an attempt to be safe at sea, a form of sacred protection, and to live in harmony with all creatures in the water and the natural world. The mythologies, folk tales, and oral histories of this ancient state are (re)inscribed in this semi-fictional state.
We can still build a home while floating - In the summer of 2021, I started venturing into the city with a total of 15 flags encountering countless of people. Some were activistic, some were philosophical and some were personal. With the flag as a vehicle to collect stories, I walked until I physically and mentally couldn't walk any further. Using a tracker, new borders were built out of exhaustion.The project is supported with an Research and Development grant from CBK Rotterdam.
A father’s passport - The poem cycles the stories my father used to tell me about his experiences during the Vietnamese-American war. Written from the perspective of a child who perceived the aftermath, it untangles generational trauma in which war and politics work in tandem with the personal.
Of Myriad Origins - "A myriad of Origins" makes a dual anology to the origins of the Vietnamese tattoo traditions and the criminalisation of these traditions. Its origins were mainly attributed to the people who worked in the water who tattooed their entire body to resemble the scales and eyes of water monsters as a wish to assume its form and in order to be safe while at sea. While uncovering this history of its erasure, I found a similar experience within queerness – from being villainized to the hidden parts of my identities. A body so familiar. A body to be reclaimed. So, I am marked as a monster. A way of reimagining ancestral legacy. A way of sacred protection.
I wish you knew me by my name - ‘I wish you knew me by my name’ is a research in which I question the representation of the individual versus the collective and the ownership of space. For this act, I walk on the border between Afrikaanderwijk and Bloemhof in Feijenoord, the place where I work and live. I collect stories from people I meet on a piece of fabric. They receive full autonomy, from the language they would like to express in to the shape and size of the fabric. I sew these stories together on a flagpole, creating a flag that is ever growing. Not a generic symbol, but personal stories form the basis of this flag.
In the Arms of a River (2020) - In "the arms of a river", my stream of consciousness spilled onto the walls as I was blindfolded for four hours. in a quest to explore vulnerability and censorship, it unraveled various ideas, thoughts, feelings and conversations I picked up from the visitors. The same hands that manifested the words into the space, also brushed the words out of existence. Just like the stream of consciousness, quickly they disappear.
you heart on my skin (2020) - "your heart on my skin" explores the temporality and permanency of our words. During a residency at Witte Rook Breda, the measurements surrounding Covid-19 were implemented at a fast rate. Though an Instagram livestream, the visitors were still able to participate from the couch at home. With a black marker, I slowly turned digital poetics, experimental chat usage and casual conversations into temporary tattoos.