Get To Know… Truc Truong
A deep dive into all things ‘arts and ents’.
Words Indigo James // Image supplied
Truc Truong transforms pre-loved toys, counterfeit products and organic materials into installations that poke at power, class and exclusion. Humour and childlike play lure audiences in, yet beneath them, a quiet reckoning with the status quo unfolds. Guided by her Vietnamese heritage, her work honours ritual while upending outdated ways of thinking. Soon, she’ll extend this practice to Smoking Fish Studio – part studio, gallery, café, and creative playground for making work on her own terms… and coffee.
What do you do? Tell us about your practice.
I’m a hoarder and collector of things, and make work people would assume a child made. In formal terms, I’m considered a visual artist, and my practice is often personal and grounded in everyday rituals, using found objects and stories. I’m interested in how we function as humans, how we build and break relationships, and how the smallest daily habits tie into bigger histories and systems.
You came to art later on. What did it provide for you at that time?
I was in retail and hospitality for years before studying teaching in my thirties (because it sounded like an easy life with holidays, I quickly learnt it isn’t easy). I took a ceramics elective during the course, and everything shifted very fast. Life got hard, but being in the studio made things easier. It gave me something to hold, something that helped me breathe. I switched to contemporary art with no plan other than making it through another day. It became my way of thinking, learning, and making sense of what’s happening around me.
Your work blends play and heritage – from toys to pig intestines. How do you navigate humour in your practice, and what draws you to your materials?
Humour keeps me grounded and protects me. There’s plenty of aesthetically beautiful work out there, so I’m not rushing to create that. I use old toys or discarded materials to talk about class, exclusion and power, because they carry their own meaning. Kids see the world before it teaches them right and wrong. Second-hand toys carry other people’s stories, different childhoods, different lessons. I became obsessed with Sesame Street after learning it was created to teach under-resourced kids about real-life racism, death, and parents in prison. I use toys to talk about hard topics through play and humour, often hiding secret experiences and messages throughout work for myself. People can either have a laugh, be uncomfortable, or hate the work, I don’t really mind.
How does spirituality influence your work?
I grew up in a mix of Christianity (Protestant) and Buddhism, and went to Catholic school. It was a fun, but often tense environment to be in. My work might look like it’s critiquing faith, but it’s more about how power moves through organised religion. I’ve seen the good and the harm it can cause. Spirituality is part of who I am, even when I fight it, it lingers. My work sits in that tension between faith, doubt, and forgiveness.
You’re in the process of opening Smoking Fish Studio! What inspired you?
I just needed a bigger space to work. I don’t sell my sculptures; nobody wants a 3m chopped-up stuffed toy crucifix fountain in their lounge room. I wanted a space where people could be part of the process. Smoking Fish is an extension of my art practice, it is part studio, part gallery, part café, part retail, and open a few days a week. It’s a place to show weird work without worrying about donors, collectors, or industry politics. People often ask how they can support my practice, and I can now say “with a coffee.”
Does returning to Vietnam inspire your creative process, and do you have plans to return soon?
Always. My dad’s side of the family is still there, so I’ve made it a point for Vietnam to be a big part of me. Every trip is different because Vietnam is growing ridiculously fast. I learn something new about who I am and where I come from every time I go. When my grandfather passed in 2024, I attended a ritual that has become a huge part of my recent work. Vietnam reminds [me] that not everything has to make sense or make money. I plan to return end of 2025 or early 2026.
What advice would you give to emerging artists?
If you’re in it to make money, I have no advice because I don’t make money from it, haha. But if you just want to make, get a part-time job that gives you freedom. Build genuine relationships, not networking ones. The art world can be exhausting and political, but the best thing you can do is be kind and keep making the work you believe in.
Stay up to date with Truc @smokingfishstudio and @truc.fakeit.
