Catherine Karnow's exhibition, "Vietnam - A Changing Country 1990 - 2015," held from November 21st to December 5th at 45 Trang Tien Street, Hanoi, not only tells the story of the country's transformation but also reveals how she encountered, felt, and came to love the people and land of Vietnam.

In 1990, on a Reunification Express train traveling across the country, National Geographic photojournalist Catherine Karnow encountered a woman sitting leaning against a window, her face serene and pensive. At that moment, Catherine simply thought: this is a beautiful face to photograph. That photograph became one of the most important works of her life and opened the door to a rare and meaningful relationship.

Twenty years later, the family of Tran Thi Diep was surprised to recognize their mother in a newspaper article. They contacted Catherine via Facebook. Catherine not only reunited with her old acquaintance but also formed a special relationship with her, enough for her to travel to Vietnam to attend Diep's daughter's wedding and take photos of Diep's granddaughter.

It's a story that can be summed up in the word "destiny," and it could only happen in Vietnam, as Catherine acknowledges.

I first came across the name of photographer Catherine Karnow in October 2013 through an interview. The passing of General Vo Nguyen Giap saddened millions of Vietnamese people, and as a Vietnamese expatriate living in Turkey at that time, I devoured any information I could find on social media and in newspapers as a way to learn more about his life, his great career, and the feelings of those left behind.

One such story is that of Catherine, the only foreign reporter to photograph General Vo Nguyen Giap when he returned to Dien Bien Phu in 1994. Upon hearing of the General's death, she flew halfway around the world to share her condolences with his family as a family friend. Reading the story of a foreigner shedding tears over the General's passing, and being surprised to witness the long lines of people from all over the country bidding farewell to "Brother Van"... prompted me to seek out more about her, and I was met with a surprising revelation.

The name Catherine Karnow might be unfamiliar to me, but her works about Vietnam are incredibly familiar. There's the portrait of General Giap, "The Snow-Covered Volcano," the image of the pensive woman by the window of the Reunification Express train, or the smiling young woman on the cover of Smithsonian magazine… These are all images I've encountered somewhere throughout my life: in a newspaper, on the internet, and in everyday life, because they are all so close, so familiar in a very Vietnamese way.

When I recounted those feelings to Catherine, she smiled and asked me in return:"You've probably come across a photo like this a million times in your life: A top-down shot showing a woman wearing a hat that completely covers her face. Sound familiar?"

"Of course.""Yes," I replied.

"So, have you seen a picture like that in this exhibition?""...," Catherine continued to ask.

Without waiting for my reply, she immediately explained:"No, because I've never taken photos like that. That's not my style. To me, a photo like that can't truly represent a person. You also won't find photos of vast natural landscapes here – even though I've witnessed countless such beautiful scenes in Vietnam. I want photos to have a story, a hidden meaning behind them."

The most vivid example is the photograph "Snow-Covered Volcano" depicting General Vo Nguyen Giap at his home. This portrait reveals two aspects of the General's personality:"If you look to the right, you'll see a husband, father, grandfather... full of compassion, truly caring for his soldiers. And if you look to the left, you'll see a general fighting at all costs to liberate Vietnam and bring peace to the country."Catherine explained.

A single one of her photographs always contains two opposing states – or “duality,” as she describes it in her native language. Peace and vibrancy. Softness and roughness. Past and future. It could be a spontaneous photograph taken at Truc Bach Lake, with one side showing the tranquil surface of the lake and the other showing children excitedly jumping in to swim.

Or a rickshaw driver stopping to rest by the Grand Theatre, while the world around him continues to move and revolve. In Catherine's eyes, she sees not just a tired man reclining on his means of livelihood. She sees history with a veteran passing by, bearing the physical wounds of war; a Grand Theatre that retains its French architecture; and the future with modern vehicles whizzing by, showing the constant movement of a country actively integrating into the global community.

Catherine sees these fascinating parallels precisely because they are a reflection of who she is. For Catherine, photography is also a form of self-portrait:“You don’t just take a blank canvas and start painting. It has to come from within you, as if you were the one creating it. I myself have two extremes: I practice meditation, yoga, mindfulness, and I’m very focused when taking photos. But at the same time, I also have a very ‘crazy’ energy inside me. But ‘crazy’ doesn’t seem like a very nice word, does it? (laughs).”

"Not exactly; I'd say it's more accurately described as 'positive energy'.""That wasn't just empty encouragement, because I sensed that energy from the very first moments I met Catherine. She moved from another meeting to the interview right at the gallery hosting the exhibition, and didn't waste a single second. When I stopped to take notes, she immediately looked around the exhibition and discussed with her colleagues whether the photos were arranged appropriately, or conferred with the photographer about the angles she wanted to capture."

The positive energy emanating from Catherine can be felt even when she sheds tears of emotion (another paradox).

Catherine's tears came as she spoke about the exhibition's goal. Her wish was simple yet profound:“I want people walking down the street, who happen to see the gallery and are curious enough to step inside, to feel something. Passersby, the elite, businesspeople, collectors, foreigners living in Vietnam, tourists, everyone. What I really want them to see isn't the transformation of Vietnam between 1990 and 2015 because that's too 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 soul of Vietnam. The beauty lies beneath the surface, within the people themselves. To see the Vietnamese people the way I see them. And to let that feeling resonate within them, authentically.”"She said, wiping away tears."

Catherine apologized to me for letting her emotions get the better of her, but I quickly waved my hand dismissively:"In the message arranging today's meeting, she promised to share wholeheartedly, and this is exactly what she did, so I should be thanking her."

She nodded in understanding and shared her experience:"Vietnamese people are very different from those I've visited elsewhere. You value emotions and even find them beautiful. You know, in many places, expressing emotions is seen as weakness and not at all attractive. An emotional person like me always wants to be accepted for who I am, not for who I am."

"And in my photographs, if you sense sadness in the portraits of the guitar teacher, or the woman on the train... I want to say: That emotion is beautiful, and don't hesitate to express it."

Being able to live with her true emotions is one of the reasons 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 spent taking photos instinctively, driven by emotion. It wasn't until she returned, opened the first rolls of film she had taken in Vietnam, and watched them gradually appear in the developing room, that Catherine realized the significance of those photographs."It touched the deepest and most powerful part of me - both as a photographer and as a person.".

At that time, Catherine was not a beginner in photography. With guidance from her famous father, Stanley Karnow, she had been taking photography seriously since she was 16 and knew what a "good" photograph was in a professional sense. However, her first photographs in Vietnam gave her a very different feeling:"These were my best photos up to that point, because they contained the deepest, most genuine emotions."

From that moment on, Vietnam was no longer just a geographical location in Catherine's eyes:“For me, Vietnam is not just a country I visit to take pictures. Photography is an expression of my emotions. And so, Vietnam, photography, and I – we are all one. We are all intertwined.”

But since 2015, Catherine's connection with Vietnam has changed. The allure of continuing to document "new things" in Vietnam is no longer as strong for her. Not because Vietnam is less interesting, but because the period she spent there for 25 years has naturally come to an end, like a book reaching its conclusion.

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

She admitted that Vietnam continued to change rapidly after 2015, and there were still countless subjects to photograph, but they no longer resonated with her as they did before."I wondered: what should I photograph? Traffic?"Catherine said this with a chuckle. Behind that half-joking, half-serious remark lay a very clear truth: what attracted her was never the superficial aspects that everyone could easily access, but the stories and layers of meaning behind them. For Catherine, the images of the years of opening up, the socio-cultural changes… that she pursued from 1990 to 2015 had become a complete whole.

And when one journey ends, her heart naturally yearns for a new one:"By 2015, I discovered that what I wanted to do—and did well—was teach photography."Catherine recounted.

She doesn't teach camera techniques or specifications that anyone can easily find in the digital age, but rather teaches how to see, how to "feel," how to tell stories through images, and how to experience life. The workshops Catherine organizes bring students from halfway around the world to Vietnam, not just trips to familiar locations to fill an album… but opportunities to meet people directly and visit places Catherine has been to and has memories of. These are real-life experiences that no travel company can arrange.

For Catherine, happiness now lies in guiding others to connect with the emotions she has found in photography, or "giving," as she acknowledges:"You know, the older you get, the more you want your life to have meaning. And besides family, the only thing that truly has meaning left is giving."

Catherine's vision is to create a workshop that combines photography, journalism, and philanthropy: where participants not only tell the stories of their subjects but also find ways to help them change their lives. She explains:“To photograph the victims of Agent Orange, I spent not just an hour, but 10 days living with them. I didn't just want to capture the moments, but also to help the victims' families. Questions constantly ran through my mind: What do they need? Do they need a new roof over their heads?”

Catherine proudly shared that not long ago, a participant in her workshop, after just a few days of interaction, decided to sponsor a boy's lifelong tuition in a rural Cambodian village. This is the perfect combination of photography and charity, of personal passion and social responsibility that Catherine strives for.

So, what will she do after the photo exhibition in Hanoi ends?I've always dreamed of living in Vietnam for a while. Truly 'living,' that's not measured by time. I want to spend time in Hanoi or Hoi An, relaxed and free from work worries, meeting friends, spending time with people I find interesting, reflecting on myself, and simply strolling around."Catherine answered without hesitation, as if she had been contemplating it for a long time.

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

"That kind of relaxation isn't for me. I'll just keep coming up with new ideas and projects anyway."Catherine admitted.

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