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Having been involved with the mountains and forests of the far North for nearly a decade, Nguyen Sy Duc often travels along the roads, searching for things hidden among the villages, landscapes, and people of the mountainous region. And on one such trip, he discovered cultural nuances hidden behind the houses, behind the kitchen fires, and even behind the rhythmic hammering echoing from the small slope in Lao Xa. Recalling a conversation with Mr. Mua Se Sinh – an artisan with over 50 years of experience in silver engraving in the village – he realized that in that seemingly quiet place existed a unique, vibrant, and profound artistic world.
Lao Xa is a small village located in the Sung La valley in Sa Phin commune, Tuyen Quang province (formerly Sung La commune, Dong Van district, Ha Giang province).
The delicate stone carvings and the warmth of silver amidst the mountain landscape.
There's an interesting fact about Lao Xa that few people notice: the village has two traditional crafts that coexist: stone carving and silversmithing. The two crafts seem unrelated, but upon closer inspection, they present a beautiful contrast.
Silversmithing is a journey of meticulousness and precision. From raw silver ingots, artisans must melt, mold, and then use hammers, anvils, chisels, files, and carving tools to create traditional Hmong jewelry. Every detail requires patience, finesse, and masterful technique. Mr. Mua Se Sinh said: "Silversmithing requires a deeper understanding than just the surface. You see within a piece of silver a lifetime of wear, a wedding, a festival season. Therefore, you can't be careless."
Silversmithing is a traditional craft of the Mua family in Lao Xa, creating distinctive jewelry for the Mong ethnic group.
In contrast, stone carving in Lao Xa is as gentle as an art form living amidst nature. The seemingly lifeless slabs of stone are carved by Hmong hands with traditional patterns—sometimes waves, sometimes the moon, sometimes ancient motifs that have become ingrained in the community's consciousness. Some say that stone carving here is like writing a wordless story, while silver carving is like engraving the ancient voices of ancestors.
Alongside silversmithing, stone carving is also a traditional craft here.
It is this very contrast between stone and silver, between heavy and light, between soft and hard, that creates a strangely harmonious beauty in Lao Xa. Every time I return, I bring my friends to show them this quiet yet vibrant life of the Hmong people on the rocky plateau.
Secrets are only passed on in the flames.
Not everyone gets to learn the craft of silversmithing in Lao Xa. According to Mr. Mua Se Sinh, this is a craft passed down only within families and clans. And rightly so, not only because the technique is difficult, but also because the soul of the craft needs to be nurtured in a special environment.
The traditional silversmithing craft of the Hmong people in Lao Xa does not use modern machinery. Every step is done by hand. Silver is melted in a charcoal furnace, poured into wooden molds, and then carved by hand. A piece of jewelry such as a necklace, bracelet, or chain often takes many days to complete. Mr. Sinh can spend dozens of hours just carving a small flower or bird motif onto a silver surface.
The Mua family has been involved in silversmithing in Lao Xa for nine generations.
“The Hmong people consider silver precious not only for its material value but also because it is associated with their spirit and customs. Newborn children are given silver bracelets for good luck. Brides wear silver on their wedding day to carry blessings. Elderly people also wear silver when they die so they won't be alone in the afterlife,” he recounted.
Almost all of Mr. Sinh's house is dedicated to his craft. On one side is a hearth with constantly burning charcoal for melting silver. On the other side is a workbench piled high with carving tools, files, and chisels. On the walls hang finished jewelry pieces: necklaces, earrings, brooches, silver rings... their cold metallic gleam gleaming against the brown earthen walls.
In the dimly lit wooden house, the flickering firelight illuminated his face. In one hand he held a hammer, in the other a piece of jewelry gradually taking shape. I sat watching, my eyes fixed on him, feeling as if I were witnessing a performance that only the very fortunate get to see.
There were times when he would just sit and stare at the silver ingot without touching it. When I asked him about it, he would just smile and say, "Beauty must be conceived before it is created. Silver isn't something you can just hammer and be done with."
It's hard to imagine how arduous the work of a jeweler can be. Sitting for hours by the fire, ears accustomed to the sound of hammers, eyes accustomed to the light of the furnace. But in return, when the characteristic patterns like swirling circles, serrated edges, and petals gradually appear, the whole space seems to fall silent to listen to the sound of the silver breathing.
The Hmong people consider silver to be a precious commodity, associated with their spirit, customs, and traditions.
When art is in the fingerprints of the Hmong people
Whether it's silver or stone, what the Hmong people of Lao Xa imbue into their works is not just technique, but also spirit. The essence of the mountainous region is evident in every detail. Not overly ornate like city designs, not gilded or adorned with jewels, yet they make people pause for a long time to admire them.
I once asked Mr. Sinh why he still practiced this craft, while many of his children and grandchildren had moved down to the lowlands to work in factories. He simply said, "It's not that I'm preserving the craft, but the craft is preserving me. It's so sad if my hands don't work with silver, like being lost in the fog." It's an art form that doesn't need an exhibition hall or glamour. It resides right in the hands, in the gaze, and in the rhythm of life of the people in the highlands.
Mr. Mua Se Sinh is an artisan who has been involved in the silversmithing craft for over 50 years.
Lao Xa is no longer as isolated as it once was. The roads have improved, there are more guesthouses, and a few small shops serving tourists. Even so, Lao Xa retains its inherent tranquility. The low stone houses peeking out from behind fences, the terraced rice fields, the sound of wind blowing through the mountain crevices, and the occasional sound of chiseling on silver, all blend together to create a simple yet profound picture.
Leaving Lao Xa at dusk, the setting sun cast its light upon the yin-yang roofs like a copper-colored cloak. The village was as quiet as the first time I arrived. But within that quiet lay a vibrant world, filled with the rhythmic clacking of chisels and the unextinguishing red flames in every house.
