Vietnamese Dang Duong Bang is both a Senior Researcher of microbiology at DTU and professional artist. Expertly balancing two seeming opposites, he asserts that the two worlds have more in common than one might think.
64-year-old Dang Duong Bang has painted and sold more than 3000 works, and the price of a square metre of his art is currently the same as a square meter of apartment space in the new Nordhavn—i.e. around DKK 40,000.
That his talent is indisputable is emphasized by a visit to his cramped home in Copenhagen’s ‘Potato Rows’ in Østerbro. Here, Southeast Asia-inspired motifs adorn virtually every inch of space from floor to ceiling, almost in layers. As with the house itself, the soulful paintings bear testimony to a long, full life. The many floors are neither neatly nor meticulously furnished, but rather filled with art, coloured furniture, silk cushions and Vietnamese cultural heritage. Here we find stacks of books, a piano, guitar and sitar—while small tea tables with finely carved oriental ornaments occupy the corners.
This is clearly an artist’s home. Less obvious is the fact that the artist is also a scientist, a rather accomplished one. A biochemistry graduate from Vietnam National University, Hanoi, in 1972 and the holder of a PhD in molecular biology, in 2000 he was appointed senior researcher at DTU Vet, where he researched bacteria in poultry, fur-bearing animals and fish. He is currently senior researcher at the Division of Food Microbiology, DTU Food, where he is engaged in developing new diagnostic technologies to find bacteria in food.
Beauty in little things
It seems only fitting that in his professional life he has devoted himself to studying tiny organisms, as he has always found beauty in even the smallest intricate detail. As a child of the Vietnam War, he learned to appreciate beauty despite his surroundings, inspecting flower petals, facial features and contours in the bunkers where he often sought refuge.
Painting was a skill he acquired at the age of six from his uncle—the artist Nguyen Tien Chung—who each summer gave him painting lessons in a small village north of Hanoi. Silk painting, Impressionism and water colours were therefore an official part of the syllabus long before biochemistry, but Dang Duong Bang’s mother had been told by a fortune teller that he would die young if he became an artist.
So with thoughts of his engineer father in the back of his mind and a burning desire to become a doctor, he ended up at university. He never neglected his art, however, and it never neglected him. Today, he has blended his two professions, as he explains in the small kitchen overlooking the garden:
“There is as much to gain from studying tiny organisms through a microscope as there is from examining the smallest details in a painting,” he says.
Research is art
In fact, he is not convinced that art and science are as far removed from one another as proponents of theories about the left and right-hand sides of the brain would have us believe.
“It may be that there are more truths in science than in art , but science isn’t simple just because there is a set of ‘right’ answers. The path to finding scientific answers is actually sophisticated and unpredictable. Just like an artistic process,” he says, gesticulating enthusiastically.
“Because how can you become a good researcher if you have no imagination?” The rhetorical question is not allowed to hang in the air for long before he answers it himself, highlighting creativity as the key:
“Researching is an abstract process that sometimes depends on luck and your willingness to take chances. If you aren’t creative, you’ll never notice the way things interact,” he adds.
“Research is complex —just like art. Both demand an equal amount of soul.”
A long day
Being a full-time artist and researcher requires a particular circadian rhythm. During the day, microbiology demands Dang Duong Bang’s full attention, while painting is reserved for the moonlight hours. Usually, he only sleeps between four and five hours.
“Growing up in a war-torn country teaches you not to waste time,” he says.
In September, he exhibited his works in Amsterdam and New York while managing to fit in a conference in Dallas. It makes sense to have more waking hours in the day than average when you both have to use the logical and creative part of the brain travelling between your home, the studio in Østerbro and the lab at DTU—and the rest of the world.
Today, he also managed to bake a mini apple pie, which he serves in a hand-painted Vietnamese bowl normally reserved for noddle soup. On the top of the pie he has placed a carved apple resembling a lotus flower. It is the small things that are the most beautiful.
Portrait in DTUavisen no. 8, October 2014.