In the mind of Vũ Khánh Tùng, a memory remains ever vivid. It is the sight of his home, much less burdened by frequenting workmen and visitors. Gone was their restlessness, and in its place was the sound of his parents, laughing and chattering as they were redyeing one another’s hair.
The ancient village of Bát Tràng, where Tùng was born and raised, is famed for many a thing. Some know the village for its renowned dried squid soup ( canh măng mực), others know the village for its antiquated gourd-shaped kilns (lò bầu), others still even know it for its longstanding tradition of studiousness. However, above all else, one simply cannot talk about Bát Tràng without mentions of pottery-making – a craft that has always been an integral part of the village’s 700-year-long history. In order to show off the fruits of their labour, the average ceramist of Bát Tràng usually build their house the old-fashioned way, with three spaces typically accompanied by a small garden. It can be said that this style of house building is practically a basic requirement for all artisans here, as “it is part of the village’s way of life, the space of an olden home and the work of the ceramist simply can’t be separated” – Tùng commented.
When his father – the late People’s Artisan Vũ Thắng completed the building of their family home was also when he fulfilled his role as the head of the reconstruction of Bát Tràng’s Communal House, a nationally recognized cultural heritage. By that time, Tùng had departed to work in a faraway city. Ever since then, he mostly only came back home on Lunar New Year’s Eve, but in every one of his returns, the house always seemed to have a whole year worth of new stories to tell. His father, as Tùng recalls, did not have any specialty in construction design, but every time Tùng came home, changes were consistently done to the house. “Dad was like a tour guide – every now and then, there was this or that done to the house for him to brag about.” This, to both his parents, was much like a hobby, or perhaps even a duty. There was always something to be done, as Mr. Vũ Thắng tended to go around the house looking for things to add to the residence, be it a houseplant, some new furnitures, a new clock, or some couplets, all antique decorations to liven up the house.
As Tùng puts it, “I simply can’t build a house like my father did”, for no one could possibly match the renowned craftsman in terms of meticulousness, experience, and affection for the beauty of traditions. All those who visit his family home, which is also the Bat Trang Museum, will get the chance to behold the unique legacy that the People’s Artisan left behind. A piece of him is in every nook and cranny of the abode, from the ceramic tiles that he himself handmade, to the very carvings on the ceiling and ancestral altor with sculptures in place of portraits. “Occasionally, as I strolled around the house, there would be something new to admire, but the man who would have been eager to tell their stories isn’t here to talk about them anymore” – Tùng confessed.
As for the works of Vũ Khánh Tùng, the successor of the late Vũ Thắng, they are humbly placed in the garden. Namely, they are the Dragon Monobloc and the Dragon Stool of “Rồng Phố” that he, alongside Designer Diệu Anh and associates at Bát Tràng Museum Atelier created. In addition, there are also the ceramic totems that he collaborated with Trần Nữ Yên Khê to produce. It could certainly be said that these are the most modern pieces in the museum, and that they discernibly, yet harmonically contrast with their surroundings. Regarding the rest of the residence, Tùng said that he wanted to keep the house and the garden intact. In future planning, he would only expand on the front area to optimise the exhibition space. In the meantime, the museum needs rigorous maintenance, which by itself already is an incredibly taxing job. Regardless, preserving and renovating is Vũ Khánh Tùng’s way of paying tribute to the museum’s founder and the loving memories of his family home.
When the late People’s Artisan was still alive, the house only really stopped being hectic at the end of the year. If it was not houseworks that kept the family busy, it would have been relatives gathering for to prepare the classic cuisines like Bánh Chưng for the celebration of the new year. But as the house gradually received less visitors, once more would the patron and matron of house be on the front yard, blackening each other’s hair – a sight that happens only once every year, and a memory that would always be held close to the heart of Vũ Khánh Tùng.
For the longest time, Tùng has been a direct witness to the changes of the house, and it has always been a place he can return to. Never has there been a New Year’s Eve without his presence, and the hobby of his parent was also a mean to enact their sense of responsibility to the house, and to their only son’s well being. “When I first build a house of my own, I was much the same. I kept wandering around the place looking to readjust the tiniest of details until there was nothing left to do”, Tùng jollily retold. “Mom and Dad didn’t just build a house, but they also look after and improve upon it. They just love their home that much.”
