The exhibition “Vietnam - A Changing Country 1990 - 2015” taking place from November 21 to December 5 at 45 Trang Tien, Hanoi by Catherine Karnow not only tells about the changes of the country, but also reveals how she met, felt and loved the people and country of Vietnam.

In 1990, on the Reunification train across the country, National Geographic photographer Catherine Karnow saw a woman leaning against the window, her face quiet and full of worries. At that moment, Catherine simply thought: this is a beautiful face to take. That photo became one of the most important works of her life and opened up a rare relationship.

20 years later, the family of Tran Thi Diep, who had known her mother for a long time, was surprised to see her mother in the newspaper. They tried to contact Catherine via Facebook. Catherine not only met her old friend, but also formed a special relationship that allowed her to come to Vietnam to attend her daughter's wedding and take photos of Diep's granddaughter.

It is a story encapsulated in the word "fate" and can only happen in Vietnam, as Catherine admitted.

I first learned about the name of photographer Catherine Karnow in October 2013 through an interview. The passing of General Vo Nguyen Giap made millions of Vietnamese people mourn and as a child living far away from home in Turkey at that time, I devoured any information on social networks and newspapers as a way to understand more about his life, his great career and the feelings of those who remained.

One of them is the story of Catherine - the only foreign reporter who was allowed to take pictures of the General when he returned to Dien Bien in 1994. When she heard about the General's death, she flew halfway around the world to share with the General's relatives as a family friend. Reading the story of a foreigner shedding tears over the General's passing, and being surprised to see lines of people from all over the country lining up to say goodbye to "Mr. Van"... made me proactively learn more about her and then receive a surprise.

The name Catherine Karnow may be unfamiliar to me, but her works about Vietnam are very familiar. That is the portrait of General Giap “The Snow-Covered Volcano”, the photo of a thoughtful woman on the window of the Thong Nhat train or the smiling young girl on the cover of the Smithsonian… Those are all photos that I have encountered somewhere throughout my adult life: on a newspaper page, on the Internet. And in everyday life, because they are all very close, very familiar in a very Vietnamese way.

When I told Catherine the above feeling, she smiled and asked me back:“You’ve probably seen this photo a million times in your life: Shot from above, showing a woman with a hat covering her face. Sounds familiar.”

“Of course”, I replied.

“So do you see such a picture in this exhibition?”, Catherine asked again.

Without waiting for me to answer, she explained immediately:“No, because I have never taken such a photo. That is not my style. To me, such a photo cannot truly represent a person. You will also not see photos of vast natural landscapes here - although I have witnessed countless such beautiful scenes in Vietnam. I want the photos to have a story, a hidden meaning behind them.”

The most vivid example is the photo “Snow-covered volcano” taken of General Vo Nguyen Giap at his private home. The portrait shows two parts of the General:"If we look to the right, we will see a husband, a father, a grandfather… full of compassion, truly caring for his soldiers. And when we look to the left, we will see a general fighting at all costs to liberate Vietnam and bring peace to the country.", Catherine explained.

One of her photos always exists in parallel with two opposing states - or "duality" as she describes it in her native language. Peaceful and vibrant. Soft and rough. Past and future. It could be an impromptu photo taken at Truc Bach Lake with one side being the calm lake surface, the other half being a group of children jumping in to bathe in innocent excitement.

Or a cyclo driver stopping to rest by the Opera House, while the world around him continues to move and revolve. In Catherine's eyes, she sees more than just a tired man resting on the vehicle he uses for his livelihood. She sees history with a veteran passing by with physical injuries from the war, a Opera House that still retains its French architecture, and the future with modern vehicles whizzing by, showing the constant movement of a country actively integrating.

Catherine sees such interesting parallels because they are who she is. For Catherine, photography is also a self-portrait:“You don’t just take a blank canvas and start painting. It has to come from you, as if you are creating it yourself. I myself have two extremes: I meditate, I do yoga, I practice mindfulness, and I am very focused when I take photos. But at the same time, I have this crazy energy inside me. But ‘crazy’ doesn’t seem like a good word, does it? (laughs).”

“Not really, I think it's more appropriate to call it 'positive energy'.”, I replied. It was not an empty word of encouragement, because I felt that energy from the first seconds of meeting Catherine. She moved from another meeting to the interview right at the gallery where the exhibition was held, and did not waste a second. When I stopped to take notes, she immediately looked around the exhibition, discussing with her colleagues whether the photos were properly arranged, or talking to the photographer about the angles she wanted to capture.

The positive energy coming from Catherine can be felt even when she is in tears of emotion (another duality).

Catherine's tears came when she spoke about the exhibition's goals. What she wished for was simple yet profound:“I want people who pass by the street, just happen to see the gallery and come in out of curiosity, to be able to feel something. Passersby, the upper class, businessmen, collectors, foreigners living in Vietnam, tourists, everyone. What I really want them to see is not the transformation of Vietnam in the period 1990-2015 because it is so obvious, everyone can see it.”

“I want them to feel the way I see and feel about the Vietnamese people. Not Vietnam in the geographical sense, but the Vietnamese soul. The beauty lies beneath the surface, in the people themselves. To see the Vietnamese people the way I see them. And to let that feeling resonate in them, truly.”, she said, wiping away tears.

Catherine apologized to me for letting her emotions get the better of her, but I quickly waved her off:“In your text message asking us to meet today, you promised to share with all your heart and this is exactly what you did, so I should be thanking you.”

She nodded in understanding, and shared her experience:“Vietnamese people are very different from other places I have been to. You appreciate emotions and even find them beautiful. You know, in many places, expressing emotions is considered weak and not beautiful. An emotional person like me always wants to be accepted for who I am and not for anyone else.”

“And in my photos, if you feel sadness in the portraits of the guitar teacher, or the woman on the train... I want to say: That emotion is beautiful and you should not hesitate to express it.”

Living with her own true feelings is one of the reasons why Catherine is so attached to Vietnam - something she never imagined when she first set foot on the S-shaped land in 1990. That trip was a series of days of taking photos by instinct and emotion. It was not until she returned, opened the first slides taken in Vietnam and watched them gradually appear in the photo lab that Catherine realized those photos“touched the deepest and most powerful part of me – both as a photographer and as a person”.

At that time, Catherine was not a newbie to photography. With the guidance of her famous father Stanley Karnow, she had been taking the camera seriously since she was 16 and knew what a “good” photo was in terms of professionalism. However, the first photos in Vietnam brought a very different feeling:“They were my best pictures up to that point, because they contained the deepest, most genuine emotion.”

Vietnam was no longer just a place in Catherine's eyes from that moment:“For me, Vietnam is not a country that I just come to take pictures. Photography is an expression of my emotions. And so, Vietnam, photography and I - are all one. All intertwined”.

But since 2015, Catherine has been attached to Vietnam in a different way. The attraction of continuing to record “new things” in Vietnam is no longer strong for her. Not because Vietnam is less interesting, but because the period she has been attached to for 25 years has come to a natural end, like a book reaching its end.

“I don't want to keep chasing after new things anymore. The door that was half-closed years ago is now wide open to the world and the mysteries are becoming less and less, to me."

She admits that Vietnam after 2015 continues to change rapidly, there are still countless subjects to photograph, but they no longer touch her intuition like before.“I asked myself: what should I shoot? Traffic?”,Catherine said with a laugh. Behind that half-joking, half-serious remark was a very clear truth: what attracted her was never the surface that everyone could easily access, but the stories and layers of meaning behind it. For Catherine, the images of the opening years, the cultural and social changes... that she pursued from 1990 to 2015 were complete as a whole.

And when one journey ends, her heart naturally turns to a new one:“By 2015, I discovered that what I wanted to do – and do well – was teach photography,”Catherine said.

She does not teach techniques or camera parameters that anyone can easily find information about in the digital age, but teaches how to see, how to “feel”, how to tell stories with images, and how to experience life. The workshops organized by Catherine bring students from half way around the world to Vietnam, not to travel to a few familiar places and take pictures to fill an album… but to directly meet people, set foot in places that Catherine has been in contact with and has memories of. These are real experiences that no travel company can arrange.

Happiness for Catherine now is leading others to the emotions she found in photography, or “giving back” as she admits:“You know, the older you get, the more you want your life to have meaning. And besides family, the only thing that really matters is giving back.”

What Catherine is dreaming of is to create a workshop that combines photography, journalism and charity: where participants not only tell their subjects' stories, but also find ways to help them change their lives. She explains:“To take pictures of Agent Orange victims, I spent not one hour, but 10 days living with them. I not only wanted to capture the moments, but also wanted to help the victims’ families. Questions were always on my mind: What do they need? Do they need a new roof?”

Catherine proudly shared that not long ago, a member of her workshop decided to sponsor a boy in a Cambodian village for life after a few days of contact. That is the combination of photography and charity, between personal interest and social responsibility that Catherine aims for.

So after the photo exhibition in Hanoi ends, what will you do?I have always had a dream of living in Vietnam for a while. Really 'living', not measured by time. I want to spend time in Hanoi or Hoi An without having to worry about work, meeting friends, spending time with people I find interesting, reflecting on myself and walking around here and there.Catherine answered without hesitation as if it had been on her mind for a long time.

“So why don't you do that after this exhibition?”, I asked even though I already knew the answer after just over an hour of talking with this woman.

“That relaxation is not for me. I will just come up with new ideas and projects.”, Catherine admitted.

There will come a time when Catherine can relax and spend time for herself as she wants, but not now, when she still has so many cherished plans and values ​​to give.