In June 2024, a German collector named Max bought two watercolor nudes of mine through my representing gallery in Vietnam. Usually, I don’t find out who collects my work. My gallery prefers to maintain a certain distance between the artist and the buyer, probably to protect their network, which I understand. And maybe, if I ever reach a point where I receive too much attention, I’ll want some distance too.

The first time I met a collector of mine was at a contemporary art conference. A well-known Vietnamese artist had bought the first painting I ever exhibited, and it was such a big deal that the purchase became public knowledge. I recognized his name immediately. I saw him across the room and introduced myself. The encounter was delightful. We met again on other occasions. And eventually, one day, we had tea at his massive lakeside studio, where I learned a lot from his wisdom and knowledge.

The second time was during one of my solo show tours, where I was presenting my work alongside the curator. A French man came up to me; he had been buying my work for years. It turned out he was the former French ambassador to Vietnam. I had no idea that someone of such high governmental caliber had been collecting my art. We had a private dinner at his home with my curator. It was, again, delightful. I learned from the experience that the man was humble and loved art just like any ordinary art lover. That evening taught me that art has no boundaries: it can transcend intellectual barriers and class divides, because it speaks to the heart.

And then there was Max. He asked the gallery if I could come in to meet him and sign the authentication papers in person. This was the third time I met a collector, the only time one has actively reached out.

When I saw him, I felt I knew this person instantly: kind, well-spoken, and genuinely interested in art. Tall, handsome, and soft-featured, Max looked at me with warm, gentle eyes. His eyebrows sloped downward at the edges, giving him an open, unintimidating expression despite his towering frame. But what struck me wasn’t attraction. It was connection. Immediate, sincere.

The paintings he bought were of male figures, charged with a quiet eroticism. I had painted them from live models in my home studio, daring and unapologetic in their intimacy. As a trans woman, I feel free to explore gendered and sexual subject matter in ways I never could before. My transness gives me both the distance and closeness needed to see things clearly, to challenge the gaze, to reframe it. My self-portraits are often provocative, and my portraits of men are filtered through a female gaze—sexual, confident, and deliberate. I’m not interested in replicating the male gaze, but in holding it accountable by reversing its direction and reclaiming the lens.

Before coming out, I identified as a gay man. That experience gave me access to a broad spectrum of gender and sexual expressions. I’ve learned to sense when people exist beyond the cisnormative binary. And with Max, I felt something quietly aligned.

We talked like old friends about art, life, our thoughts. We laughed. He asked about the pieces; I answered. Then I asked if I could ask something personal. Based on the works he chose, and my own instincts, I asked if he had a boyfriend. He said yes, and something shifted. The conversation softened even further. He shared a little about his relationship.

Thanks to Max and his partner, Philipp, who also happen to be collectors of Galerie Biesenbach, I’m now exhibiting in Cologne, alongside eight other queer artists from across Germany and Europe. At the time of writing this, the show LIFE SEX LOVE is live. I’m the only artist from Asia, from across an entire continent and ocean. It’s wild to think about. But that’s how life moves: we meet people, and everything shifts. We shape one another without always knowing how.

I met Philipp, in the company of Max, for the first time when I handed over the artworks for the show in person. Max and Philipp wanted to help with shipping, since they were traveling back and forth, and it was a huge help. Philipp showed me the paintings of mine they’d bought, hung on the wall. I stood still for a second (maybe five), realizing how, within the two paintings, the two nude figures standing side by side, I saw Max and Philipp.

Philipp is just as lovely as Max, yet different in ways that made it instantly clear why they make such a great couple. The meeting was not only delightful. It was familiar. The queer experience of finding one’s own self and seeking out like-minded minorities in a sea of cisnormative doctrines is universal. Sometimes, queer people can connect on such a deep level despite not knowing each other prior. And in that instance, I felt like I’d been quietly folded into a queer family on the other side of the world.

In Max and Philipp’s support, and now in the embrace of my fellow queer artists at LIFE SEX LOVE, and Stéphane’s welcome at his namesake Galerie Biesenbach, I feel less alone. I feel empowered. I feel seen.

My sketchbook piece for LIFE SEX LOVE at Galerie Biesenbach in Cologne. Beside it—my Letter to Cologne sketchbook and a small sculpture of a human nose. In courtesy of Galerie Biesenbach

It means everything to me to be queer in this moment: a blessing to be alive, a responsibility to create, a celebration of hope, a moment of grief. When LGBTQ+ rights are being erased in the U.S., when funding for Pride events and queer support groups in Asia is drying up, when conservative politics in Europe are gaining traction, when across continents, queer and trans people are being silenced, threatened, beaten, and even killed… It matters that we stand together. This year’s Pride Month, and every month, we must fight back not with violence, but with fierce kindness. With unshakable love, with curiosity, with art, with refusal. We must push for a world where difference isn’t just accepted. It’s honored.

That’s what this show is about.

Art that performs, that protests, that sings, that gathers, that builds.

Letter to Cologne Sketchbook

If you're on mobile, please rotate your phone horizontally for the best reading experience. If the reader doesn't load, you can view the book directly on Heyzine.

Art that carries love letters across oceans.

A closer look at the artworks I createde specially for the show