LE NGUYEN PHUONG: SUNSHINE
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On January 15th 2022, I moved to Sunshine, an inner-western suburb of Melbourne, where I rented out a bedroom in Mrs. Hoang Anh’s home. Sunshine is known for its vibrant Vietnamese community, the best bang-for-buck Banh Mi in Melbourne and, based on the criminal activity here, nicknames like “Scumshine” or “Stabshine”.
More often than not, Vietnamese diasporas in Australia live under a state of loss. After the American War ended, the Vietnamese Community Party won against the South and reunified the nation. In opposition to this regime, millions of Vietnameses fled the country to America, Canada or Australia most commonly through boats, who now have aptly named themselves “boat people”. With the influx of Vietnamese immigrants to Sunshine in the late 1970s, the suburb is now superimposed by the Vietnamese community to resemble a faux representation of their homenation, one they could not return to. Their lives on this foreign land are re-lived through scenic photographs of Vietnam hung in dimly lit restaurants and burning incense as they pray to their ancestors for a better fortune.
Through browsing the local news, internet archives and word-of-mouth, I discovered deconstructed stories without a beginning nor an end. Unlike its name, Sunshine slowly unravels its issues: The intergenerational division of cultures, races and religions. I use photography not only as a method to document Sunshine, but also how I confront my outsider status in Australia. I am constantly reminded that I am 7000 km away from my home in Vietnam, in a suburb that disguises itself as home.
To see more work by Nguyên Phương Lê, visit - Website / Instagram
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On January 15th 2022, I moved to Sunshine, an inner-western suburb of Melbourne, where I rented out a bedroom in Mrs. Hoang Anh’s home. Sunshine is known for its vibrant Vietnamese community, the best bang-for-buck Banh Mi in Melbourne and, based on the criminal activity here, nicknames like “Scumshine” or “Stabshine”.
More often than not, Vietnamese diasporas in Australia live under a state of loss. After the American War ended, the Vietnamese Community Party won against the South and reunified the nation. In opposition to this regime, millions of Vietnameses fled the country to America, Canada or Australia most commonly through boats, who now have aptly named themselves “boat people”. With the influx of Vietnamese immigrants to Sunshine in the late 1970s, the suburb is now superimposed by the Vietnamese community to resemble a faux representation of their homenation, one they could not return to. Their lives on this foreign land are re-lived through scenic photographs of Vietnam hung in dimly lit restaurants and burning incense as they pray to their ancestors for a better fortune.
Through browsing the local news, internet archives and word-of-mouth, I discovered deconstructed stories without a beginning nor an end. Unlike its name, Sunshine slowly unravels its issues: The intergenerational division of cultures, races and religions. I use photography not only as a method to document Sunshine, but also how I confront my outsider status in Australia. I am constantly reminded that I am 7000 km away from my home in Vietnam, in a suburb that disguises itself as home.
To see more work by Nguyên Phương Lê, visit - Website / Instagram
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