**”The Ballad of the Bomb” by Tuan Andrew Nguyen: An Exploration of War and Memory**
# The Impact of War Through Art: Tuan Andrew Nguyen’s *The Sounds of Cannons, Familiar Like Sad Refrains*
War leaves behind more than just the visible scars on landscapes and people—it also creates remnants that linger, shaping history, memory, and identity. In his thought-provoking video installation, *The Sounds of Cannons, Familiar Like Sad Refrains / Đại Bác Nghe Quen Như Câu Dạo Buồn* (2021), artist Tuan Andrew Nguyen explores these themes by giving voice to an unlikely protagonist: an unexploded bomb left from the Vietnam War. Through the interplay of archival footage, contemporary documentary visuals, and a surprisingly humanized perspective, Nguyen forces viewers to confront the ongoing legacy of warfare.
## A Tale of Two Perspectives
The two-channel video installation plays simultaneously on split screens, offering a juxtaposition between historical glorification and present-day reality. The left screen presents archival footage with an authoritative Transatlantic-accented narration and triumphant military music that celebrate American military power, particularly highlighting the USS Bainbridge, the world’s first nuclear-powered guided missile frigate. This imagery reinforces the ideologies that fuel war, particularly the notion of technological supremacy and national strength.
Meanwhile, the right screen presents a stark contrast, depicting contemporary footage of a bomb disposal team working carefully in Quảng Trị, Vietnam. The crisp, lingering shots follow the team as they unearthed an unexploded bomb buried in the rich, green earth. This side of the screen offers a quiet yet powerful statement on the lasting physical dangers of war—the ordnance, long forgotten by those who dropped it, still poses a real threat to the people living in these areas.
## Giving Voice to an Unexploded Bomb
Nguyen takes an unexpected creative risk in this film: he gives the unexploded bomb a voice. The bomb, speaking in a deep, almost melancholic tone, reflects on its existence, abandonment, and even its intended purpose. It struggles with its “failure” to explode upon impact, raising questions about fate, duty, and identity. Was its failure to detonate an act of defiance by those who created and deployed it? Or was it simply bad engineering?
The bomb’s monologue resonates with the themes of human memory and trauma. By personifying this war relic, Nguyen invites viewers to consider the destructive potential that remains both physically embedded in landscapes and psychologically embedded in collective memory. The bomb’s existential musings are simultaneously absurd and deeply moving—how can something designed solely for destruction experience imposter syndrome?
## Found Objects Transformed into Art
The exhibition at James Cohan Gallery extends beyond the video installation. In adjoining rooms, Nguyen displays sculptures created from metal bomb casings and artillery shells. These seemingly innocuous pieces—some suspended from the ceiling, others grounded—carry the weight of their histories. Once used in warfare, they now function as art pieces, evoking the absurd transformation from objects of destruction to objects of contemplation.
These sculptures draw inspiration from artists like Alexander Calder, known for his mobiles and kinetic art, yet their material history gives them a haunting duality. They prompt viewers to consider the fate of war artifacts: are they remnants of past violence, relics of resilience, or simply commodities repurposed for gallery spaces?
## War’s Lingering Ghosts
Nguyen’s work serves as a potent reminder that war is never truly over. While treaties are signed and battles cease, the remnants of conflict remain in both tangible and intangible forms. The unexploded ordnance buried across Vietnam is a physical reminder of past violence, just as societal perceptions of war, power, and loss continue to shape contemporary dialogues.
By blending documentary filmmaking, archival footage, and conceptual storytelling, Nguyen fosters a nuanced conversation about war, memory, and art’s role in confronting historical trauma. His work not only highlights the past but also challenges us to reckon with its ongoing presence in the world today.
## Exhibition Details
*Tuan Andrew Nguyen: Lullaby of Cannons for the Night* runs at James Cohan Gallery (291 Grand Street, Lower East Side, Manhattan) until March 22. The exhibition prompts viewers to reflect on war’s impact through Nguyen’s use of film, sculpture, and conceptual art, offering a powerful commentary on survival, memory, and the transformation of destruction into dialogue.
Whether experienced through the meditative voice of an unexploded bomb or in the tactile presence of repurposed artillery shells, Nguyen’s work reminds us that war’s echoes never fully fade—if anything, they evolve, waiting to be uncovered once again.