Phuc Van Dang (1972) was born in Vietnam 🇻🇳 and came to Denmark 🇩🇰 in 1981. He studied graphic design and has worked with design, concept- and product development. Today he utilizes this background in his diverse work as an artist, graphic designer, speaker and workshop-giver and in collaborations with i.a. clothing manufacturers and product designers, Phuc Van Dang explores themes such as identity, belonging, human nature and community engagement, and as a cultural facilitator he creates new connections between art, design and culture.
In the heart of Phnom Penh, the Independence Monument (Vimean Ekareach) marks the moment Cambodia reclaimed its sovereignty from France in 1953.
Designed by the visionary Cambodian architect Vann Molyvann and completed in 1958, its lotus-shaped tower rises in the style of a Khmer temple stupa, echoing the spires of Angkor.
By day it anchors one of the city’s busiest roundabouts. By night it glows red, blue, and gold, lit in the colors of the national flag. More than a landmark, it is a quiet reminder of a nation that chose to define itself on its own terms. 🇰🇭
Norodom Sihanouk Memorial
The Norodom Sihanouk Memorial (also called the Statue of King Father Norodom Sihanouk), honoring the man Cambodians call the “Father King.”
The statue is painted gold. This memorial cost about 1.2 million USD and it took about eight months to build.
Sihanouk is a towering figure in modern Cambodian history. He’s credited for his efforts in liberating the country from French colonization, and he reigned as the king under whom Cambodia gained independence from France in 1953.
Constitution Monument (also called the Monument to the Constitution) – completes the trifecta of monuments
Walking out of my homestay quite early, the sky was hanging low over Saigon, dark enough to promise rain sooner rather than later.
I knew immediately the weather would decide where I drank my first coffee.
Not me.
The first heavy drops fell just as I ducked beneath the umbrella of a tiny street stand. Twenty thousand đồng. Less than a dollar. A cup of cà phê sữa đá and another reminder that some of life’s best decisions are made by the weather.
“All I need is gratitude and coffee in my hand.”A hidden gem in a narrow hem
A woman abandoned her broom to serve me because everyone in the alley looks after one another’s customers. She laughed in disbelief when I ordered black coffee without sugar, repeating không đường over and over as though I couldn’t possibly mean it. But. I did.
Took the Metro 🚇 for the first time! From Ben Thanh to Thao Dien and had a coffee on Xuan Thuy Street
Before dawn on Thursday morning, my phone vibrated.
A message from my former stepmother.
They had been divorced for decades.
“Sorry to tell you like this…”
My father had died.
I stared at the screen without moving.
No racing heartbeat.
No tears.
Only the strange stillness that sometimes arrives before emotion catches up with fact.
I closed my eyes, hoping sleep might return.
Instead, memories arrived.
I remember his laugh.
The glint in his blue eyes.
The laugh I inherited.
He laughed easily. Loudly. Sometimes until tears formed in the corners of his eyes.
I know I was responsible for many of those laughs and I’ll gladly own that for the rest of my time on earth.
For all the complicated years that followed—for the distance, the absences, the estrangement—that is not how I’m going to remember him.
I’m going to remember the beautiful laughing boy he once was.
The seventeen-year-old who had no idea what life would ask of him. The father I adored.
The young soldier who would find himself stationed in Germany and Korea.
The father who loved olives enough that I ate them too, despite not liking them.
The young man who sat beside me with a jar of Marshmallow Fluff and we’d eat spoonfuls as we watched tv, while my mom was out.
Memory is generous that way.
It edits.
Not by deceiving, but by deciding which moments deserve to survive.
Mine chose his mischievous smile.
R. I. P. Dad
Sitting across from Ben Thanh Market with straight black iced coffee as I read “Once There Were Wolves” by Charlotte McConaghy
