Sighing Through The Breeze – A,B (Saigon, Vietnam, 2022)

Part of a series taken in Ho Chi Minh city’s historic, revolution-filled Chinatown (Cho Lon), this photograph features a beverage vendor who has sold her wares in the same spot for the last eighteen years: refusing to budge through the years of gentrification, commercial pressure, and community change that has altered the neighbourhood, displacing hundreds of the city’s vendors in the area. I wanted to frame this shot in a manner that celebrates her tenacity, positioning her almost regally against the street that she so proudly claims as her own. For this, I drew inspiration from the colorful magnanimity David Bolen grants a group of retirees in Lance Oppenheimer’s ‘Some Kind of Heaven’. 

Double Ikat With a Side of Chutney – A, B ,C (Candidesa, Indonesia, 2022)

The ‘Bali Aga’ tribe in Indonesia were one of the first indigenous settlers in the archipelago, with lineage directly tracing back to the Gupta Kingdom in South India. Their conservative village comprises only 600-700 people, each of whom believes they are 6-7th generation reincarnates and can vividly recall their past lives. The community is fiercely protective of its own, and despite pressures to integrate with other Balinese indigenous tribes to aid their dwindling tribe, the village is still ‘closed’ – with inter-village marriages permitted only in very extreme cases.  ‘Double Ikat’ is a complicated practice of tie-dye-weaving going back centuries, and trading Double ikat textiles forms the backbone of the Bali Aga commerce. This practice of ‘Double Ikat’ is directly linked to, and has influenced tie-dye-weaving in the trading port of Gujarat, India. While exploring the village, an ikat weaver warmed up to my curiosity and keenly invited me to her house for a meal. After sharing stories of her community, she gladly offered herself as a subject to be photographed. Seen here is Mba Ira – one of the oldest ‘Double ikat’ weavers alive in the community today. I was inspired by Lol Crawley’s signature use of chiaroscuro to try and hauntingly draw out her character while spotlighting her heirloom practice, as I composed this low-light photograph. 

Hot Wheels (Saigon, Vietnam, 2023)

Despite ~7% of the country’s population (aged 2 and above) living with some physical disability (most of which are linked to inter-generational after effects of the decade long war years), Vietnam isn’t the most disability friendly country to live in. That doesn’t throw a dent in the suffering populace’s general attitude to life – usually incredibly optimistic and resilient. I didn’t get a chance to meet the subject I photographed here, but was struck by how cool and comfortable he looked, cigarette in hand, as took in his flustered, stress-filled wheeled-counterparts across the street. 

A Fist Full of Paddy – A, B, C, D (Mai Châu, Vietnam, 2022)

Having survived (and brutally fought) against decades of local industrial and governmental sponsored pressure to adopt GMOs, the remaining organic farmers in North Vietnam’s Mai Châu valley are notorious for their hardy, brash demeanour toward expats and tourists. I didn’t find this the case at all, and was quite eagerly welcomed during my solo travels through the fields. After offering me a cup of tea, Ðuc and his wife allowed me to follow them around as they harvested fresh paddy – amused by my clumsy squelching about the field. He was incredibly proud of his bright pink garden hat, a cherished gift hand-sewn by his beloved wife (who was resoiling a neighbourhood field), without which he refuses to step into the farm everyday. I found this quirk quite special and a beautiful contrast to his otherwise stoic resolve.

Two Queens And a Throne (Saigon, Vietnam, 2021)

In the face of COVID, Saigon’s strict four-month lockdown restricted citizens from any movement outside one’s residence. Even groceries and basic supplies were delivered monthly by the country’s army, deployed across the city specifically to ensure the citywide delivery of necessities. More than the disruption caused to her coffee-vending business, sixty-eight-year-old Mrs. Hoang’s biggest grouse with the lockdown was the distance it dictated from her eight-month old-granddaughter, who lives several kilometres away. Captured just a few minutes after Mrs. Hoang discovered her granddaughter could now walk, I feel this portrait beautifully captures her excitement but restrained sadness at having missed her granddaughter’s first steps.

About the Artist:

Tushar Gidwani is an Indian photographer & filmmaker whose hunger to story-tell stems from a deep fascination with instances that authentically celebrate our quirks and flaws as human animals. When he’s not working with his experimental studio in Southeast Asia, you’ll find him babbling about coffee, couscous, or trying to befriend the occasional wandering cattle. He currently lives in Boston, Massachusetts, and shuttles between Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam or Mumbai, India as a creative on-call for VICE Media.