“MUTANT FLOW” AND THE RADICAL PIVOT OF TWO GENERATIONS OF ARTISTS

Written by Uyen Ly for Hanoi Grapevine, artist Dao Anh Khanh and Dao Anh Tho
Photos provided by the artists
Please credit Hanoi Grapevine when sharing.
No reproduction in part or whole without prior permission.

The art exhibition “Mutant Flow/Dòng chảy Đột biến” by father and daughter duo Dao Anh Khanh and Dao Anh Tho will open on March 13, 2026, and run until March 20, 2026, at the Vietnam Museum of Fine Arts (66 Nguyen Thai Hoc, Hanoi). Featuring nearly 200 works—including lacquers, paintings, and sketches on paper — the exhibition marks the first time these two formidable artistic personas appear together in a single space.

At the heart of the exhibition is the concept of “mutation”—that pivotal moment when deadlocks and crises become the catalyst for creation. For Dao Anh Khanh, this was his journey from the police force to becoming a pioneer of performance and installation art in Vietnam, gaining international acclaim for large-scale projects like the Dao Xuan series and the Gam Troi Art Valley. Meanwhile, his daughter, Dao Anh Tho, entered the art world over four years ago but has already displayed a ferocious creative spirit. She has produced over 2,000 sketches and 150 large lacquer paintings, expanding her practice into poetry, music, sculpture, and multimedia art.

Side-by-side, their works are both contrasting and deeply connected. Dao Anh Khanh’s art celebrates the primal energies of life—nature, fertility, and the cosmos—while Dao Anh Tho reflects intense inner experiences, from self-redefinition and healing to emotions of love, beauty, and peace.

To better understand the artistic transformation of this rare father-daughter collaboration, Uyen Ly spoke with the artists.

PART 1: The Fateful Pivot

What inspired this joint exhibition?

Đào Anh Thơ: This is a deeply meaningful moment for me. I never originally intended to exhibit with my father. I had just finished a series in early 2025, but then my father suffered through a grueling illness throughout the year, culminating in a life-or-death emergency in November. Miraculously, he recovered. A sudden thought struck me: “Dad, do you want to exhibit with me?”

Both of you chose different career paths before making a radical pivot to art. How did this happen?

Đào Anh Thơ: I had zero interest in art. I saw the life of an artist as one of hardship and instability. My “American Dream” was to become a billionaire, not an artist. My “metamorphosis” happened when I met an ex-lover—it was like a bomb detonating my world—and I saw a world within my imagination. It was so beautiful that I thought if I could live in that world just once, I could die content. On my birthday, August 18, 2021, I announced I would be an artist. My father thought I was crazy. But I’ve always had a touch of “madness”; I act on intuition—fast and strong. When I became an artist, it was for real. I believe God chose me. I am Catholic, but I hadn’t followed any religion until the moment I chose art.

Đào Anh Khánh: We both traveled long paths that seemed entirely unrelated to art. I joined the police force at 18 and spent 18 years there. My daughter was 32, having studied and worked in the US and all over the world, when she changed direction. Our career timelines before the pivot were almost identical.

For many, 17 or 18 years in a career defines you. But for me, when I realized I was on the wrong path, I returned to my true self and my childhood dreams. Even as a policeman, I craved art and studied at the University of Fine Arts. The moment I returned, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be. My daughter’s pivot was unexpected and forceful—a “life-or-death” state of being.

We share a common philosophy: once you pivot, you surrender yourself like a slave to art, willing to take risks with money, time, health, and life itself.

“Our exhibition isn’t about proving success to society; it’s a quintessential story of love—finding one’s true essence and the price one pays to find it.”.

Đào Anh Khánh

You mentioned “paying the price.” What do you gain from making art?

First, I am the master of my own creative narrative. For an artist, that is paramount. I create my own world where nothing can alter my identity. I am willing to pay for what I love, and that gives me the strength to endure a long journey, growing more energetic as I go.

My daughter went from wanting to be a businesswoman to being a relentless artist. Beyond painting, she plunged into music, sculpture, and complex multimedia. “Bong” (Tho’s family nickname) has explored herself thoroughly. Despite our family knowing many successful artists, she locked herself away, refusing to see anyone, dedicating every second to pouring herself into her work.

The second gain is the shift from stagnation to obsession. My daughter was successful in her previous work but felt deadlocked because there was no passion. In art, she has become an obsessive who forgets day and night. That is an immense reward.

You mentioned risking your life for art. Can you give an example?

During Dao Xuan 9 (March 2019), despite being ill, I was both the director and performer. I had performed five times that day, and for the finale, I had to climb to the top of a 36-meter sculpture to perform without a safety harness. Professional circus performers refused to perform with me because it was too risky. I felt the boundary between life and death, but I decided to perform. In that moment, a higher power gave me strength. I transformed into a being from another planet; I wasn’t Dao Anh Khanh anymore. That energy kept me alive.

PART 2: Artistic Portraits

How do your works connect in this joint exhibition?

Đào Anh Thơ: I have created a lot of work in the last four years. I compose by theme; each series is 22 large lacquer paintings. This exhibition isn’t arranged by theme; I chose the best pieces to display alongside my father. I selected 17 large lacquers from the series America Now, Healing Journey, and Summer of Love, along with sketches I consider complete works.

Regarding artistic language, I believe we share a harmony in visual form. Of course, if you place two paintings side-by-side, they look nothing alike, but you can see a shared fluidity—a connection in the brushstrokes. My father paints fertility and nature—primal energies from before humanity existed. My art moves from those primal energies toward human moments, and eventually beyond Earth into the cosmos.

How is your internal artistic evolution reflected here?

Đào Anh Khánh: We both think along a “long axis.” I usually spend five years or more on a core theme. That journey might be split into four concepts, like a tree trunk with different branches. For example, my current theme, Cosmic Inspiration, has four parts: the world of flora, the animal kingdom (including humans), mountains and rivers, and finally, the harmony of planets and the universe.

Technically, my vision is becoming more condensed. Publicly, I am seen as a surrealist, but nearly half the works here blend surrealism with abstraction. I’ve also included 32 small-scale works on paper. I usually love massive canvases, but these small pieces allowed me to master the “fluidity” of space and colors more intimately.

Đào Anh Thơ: Every series is a projection of my internal state at that stage. Re-birth was the first, followed by Healing Journey and Summer of Love. I’m an explorer; I travel the world to feel and change.

Not every experience is rosy. After Re-birth, I spent a long time healing old wounds. Some paintings in the Healing Journey required me to dig deep into my pain. Even though the art is beautiful, returning to it sometimes haunts me with “ghosts of the past.” I had to face them for years until they passed. Then came Summer of Love, which I created when I met my fiancé—it carries an entirely different energy.

“My daughter has drawn about 2,000 sketches with incredibly complex lines, never needing to erase or redraw a single stroke. I think her past experiences in organized, precise thinking process contributed to this mastery.”.

Đào Anh Khánh

Your works are covered in dense, continuous, and cyclical lines. What do they represent?

Those lines appeared the moment I first picked up a pen, like a flow of water coming from a never ceasing stream. I can draw in any state—happy, sad, sitting, or standing—it’s like breathing. I am like a lightning rod attracting energy; wherever I go, the energy of that land passes through me and becomes a painting. It is a reflection of the unconscious soul; I paint as a flow, without thinking.

My background in audit required absolute precision—looking at three screens of tiny numbers where a 1 cent error was unacceptable. That calibration is hardwired into my brain. Even with thousands of lines on a massive scale, I can control the color and composition comfortably.

My husband is a philosopher, so my thinking is becoming even more multi-dimensional. Everything—my past experiences, my love for languages, my travels—is all there in the work.

Thank you both for this conversation./