I LOVE YOU, HANOI
Consider this my official love letter to Vietnam's Hanoi, a place that wears a hundred faces each one carrying its own remarkable expression and, admittedly, some I like more than others. But with preferences set to one side, each face contributes to creating a truly magic place to visit and, of course, photograph.
I arrived into Hanoi via plane from Ho Chi Minh and was immediately faced with a long, congested journey to Old Town, a place I was not expecting to be quite as it was. My vision of Hanoi and the images I had seen had painted Hanoi's Old Town to be a busy, but gentle, district. What I was met with was a true spectacle: a hive of activity, of tourists and locals and a never-ending single file line snaking through the crowds. It exuded energy and passion and excitement but it was so totally different to the Hanoi I was expecting.
Until morning.
Hanoi wakes with a gentle yawn and stretch with an alarm of traffic soon following and it's between those two moments, that moment in bed when your eyes begin to adjust to the light, where I felt the the spirit of Hanoi most prominently. As traders begin their days work, locals meet for breakfast and commuters head to their place of work, all surrounded by a cacophony of noise, scents of spices and scenes of both serenity and chaos. The juxtaposition is truly exceptional, and it was this fleeting window of time I was most interested in capturing, because it felt the most real and true. The harshness of the day had yet to come and the city exists in this softer state of its own being. This softness is mirrored by not only the environment but also the visuals. The light is hazy, the shadows stretch longer, the hue is like a warm hug. I think the same can be said for a lot of cities around the world; if the afternoon is the city shouting, the morning it gently whispering its intentions.
None of that, though, is to suggest Hanoi ceases to be authentic once morning passes. More that it simply changes to be a louder version in and of itself. Once awake, the city becomes an unpredictable force of nature, with every turn of every corner presenting a new photographic opportunity and enveloping story. Street vendors grappling for attention, families enjoying meal time, traffic weaving in and out of one another like a dance routine. It's a city that challenges awareness, in the best possible way. I have spoken before about the way street photographer's see the World in a different way to those who do not practise it and I felt this in realtime during my visit to Hanoi. There was an exhausting hypervigilance but as a photographer, it was welcome. I would have not had it any other way.
On reflection, Hanoi felt both an easy and hard place to photograph. Easy due to its beauty, vibrancy, colours and uniqueness. But difficult because every scene feels like it could be a photograph. There is almost too much to witness, too much to photograph. It's not a place that gives you photographs, even though it seems like it would. There is an element of working for it. Cutting through the chaos to unpack the stories. The end result, though, is truly gratifying and rewarding. The images feel earned.
In many ways, Hanoi reawakened how I think about photography. It reminded me that it’s not always about chasing the most striking subject or the most dramatic scene, but about patience and quietness and letting the world around you breathe. It's about allowing the story to reveal itself in its own time instead of hunting it down. There of course is an element of reactivity and alertness. But there doesn't necessarily need to be. There is a validity to being present enough to notice the small things, even when everything around you is demanding your attention.
I left Hanoi with a camera full of images, but more importantly, with a new perspective. The last two years of my six year photography journey have been awkward and confusing. It's lacked clarity and inspiration and as a result has quite often felt demotivating. My visit to Vietnam, and specifically Hanoi, helped unlock a renewed perspective on the process of the photography, and appreciating the balance between chaos and calm.
And perhaps that’s why it lingers. Not just as a place I visited, but as a place that quietly changed the way I look at the world.
