A Thousand Dots of Saigon
One day during a conversation, my creative director Kumkum Fernando said to me:
“Why don’t you start capturing things you see on the streets, the little details you notice, and turn them into your own archive?”
So I did.
I started collecting moments. A pack of incense with its colorful label. An old magazine I found at a scrap shop. A La Hán fish once popular to keep at home. A pair of plastic slippers. Things that feel ordinary now but carry so much of where I grew up. I snapped photos, kept notes, and turned them into illustrations using pen and dots in two colors: black and red. The same technique I used in Saigon2000.
“Why don’t you start capturing things you see on the streets, the little details you notice, and turn them into your own archive?”
So I did.
I started collecting moments. A pack of incense with its colorful label. An old magazine I found at a scrap shop. A La Hán fish once popular to keep at home. A pair of plastic slippers. Things that feel ordinary now but carry so much of where I grew up. I snapped photos, kept notes, and turned them into illustrations using pen and dots in two colors: black and red. The same technique I used in Saigon2000.
Red feels vibrant, but also like a warning.
Black feels grounded, quiet.
Together they mirror how I see this city — alive, changing, and sometimes fading.
We first called this project “Found in Saigon”, but over time, it felt more like a collection of traces. A thousand tiny dots, holding on to what might be forgotten.
So I renamed it: A Thousand Dots of Saigon.
So I renamed it: A Thousand Dots of Saigon.
