Danny Luong’s first solo exhibition takes visitors to the edges of society, into a world unfamiliar to most. trap (disambiguation), on view at The Bows from August 1 to October 11, transforms the gallery into a trap house.

Vacuum-sealed bags of weed, USBs, lighters, Yu-Gi-Oh! cards, and a 2005 Batman TV looping Luong’s interviews with two ex-gang members are just a few of the details that immerse visitors in the space. The exhibition brings together Luong’s personal photographs, objects, and stories, shedding light on lived experiences that are often misrepresented or unseen.

In the following conversation with Matthew Liske, Luong discusses his time working in a trap house, the photographs he made during that period, and what this project means to him.

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Matthew Liske (ML): What inspired you to do this project?

Danny Luong (DL): This project is a culmination of a path I’ve been heading down for a while. Specific inspiration would be the empowerment I received from friends and family who encouraged me that the photographs I was taking of my family, of my cousins, of my friends, of the people close to me, were important.

For a long time, I was taking these photos and I didn't share them, because I didn’t think anyone was interested in seeing the weird shit my family gets up to. I was scared of repercussions from law enforcement; I didn’t want to be seen as a snitch or something.

Oftentimes, talking about this kind of culture can get you in trouble. However, I felt that the discourse surrounding these lifestyles were never not exploitative. It was always some kind of exposition on gang life or whatever. There are soft, tender edges to these lives that are really, really important to me, because these are the lives I see.

ML: What does this project mean to you?

DL: There is something about the slow turn or twist of revealing something hidden that I am attracted to. I think the project is deeply focused on that, the idea of revealing something, of coming to a revelation instead of exposing something.

I think revealing something has a softness and tenderness to it that lets people approach with empathy, with real feeling.

I think that is why I tried so hard to try to keep the human voices in the project, they were always screaming at me in my head. I really want to illuminate lifestyles on the edges of society, and I want that done in a way where people are no longer getting harmed or exploited for the things that they’ve chosen to do with their lives, and often out of necessity. It means a lot to be able to have a platform to showcase that.

ML: What do you think the impact of your project is?

DL: My hope is that it starts to dissolve a bit of the fear of the unknown by making it known.
Fear is always based from an irrational place of I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what these guys are doing in my neighbourhood, I don’t know why they keep coming into the house at odd hours.

I think if you dissolve the mystery and show this mundane factory style work, where everyone's doing it to make a living, take care of their moms, to take care of their family. The fear starts to erode because these are just people. I hope that the impact of my work is that the people are seen and heard through it even though they don't exist in it, and that's kinda the point.

They’re all ephemeral and exist as ephemera. There's no people in the gallery, but it's all about the people who worked there, including myself.

In one of the interviews, one of the ex-gang members talks about it, there is a subsection of gang people, maybe five percent, probably less, who want to be gang bangers, who want to flex, who want to do the crazy shit on the streets. Most of them don't want to do that. Most of them are pushed to the edges, need to make money, have vices to take care of, whether that's gambling or addictions and can’t get help anywhere else.

I hope that the impact is that it dissolves a bit of the fear of the unknown of gang life, of the culture and that people can kind of understand and empathize with the people who are in that life a little bit more because they deserve it.

ML: What is your connection to that world?

DL: I think part of being Vietnamese, part of being a minority, part of being an oppressed minority is having uncles that do things. Having uncles that didn’t go to high school, don’t have any extra education, don’t have any extra training, but understand that weed sells, understand drugs sell, understand that they still have to make money.

My connection has always kind of tenuously been there. My father went to jail for five years, for tax evasion. My uncles have always been on and off with different gangs in Calgary, whether that's like the FOB or the FK. I have known people from both sides, one of my uncles was shot and killed by gang members. It's just always been present. It never felt like I had to approach and or immerse myself in it. It was just there, and I think at first that life and me were resistant because I think that life is very terrified of what a camera represents.

I've been told my work is very empathetic. Through a very empathetic lens. I think forming that and creating that, people were finally able to see my work, see the things that I was doing, see what I’m interested in. And also feel safe in front of my lens to be captured in a way, especially when they were vulnerable. I also think the most human thing to show is vulnerability. So many people are obsessed with never showing weakness. What I think true strength is showing your weakness and being like, ‘this is me’. This is where I am weak. You can choose to attack me here if you’d like, but then you’re the one that’s awful.

ML: Why did you choose to include nostalgic elements to the gallery?

DL: I think the most obvious reason is that nostalgia in itself is its own little trap. It's also a head nod to most of the time in the trap house, the thing that we all agreed on that we could watch together while we were bagging bags and product, was Yu-Gi-Oh. If you were doing your shift solo, it didn’t matter what you watched. But together it was really difficult to all find something that we wanted to watch together. We ended up on Yu-Gi-Oh because everyone was like, ‘this shows fucking stupid, it’s funny, it’s hilarious, let’s just watch Yu-Gi-Oh.’ That was a big, big element to the cards being present.

I like the idea of the title: trap (disambiguation). Understanding that there are so many different meanings to the word, but the feeling is always evocative of the same kind of thing, like you can’t escape. It's hard to escape and run from what is nostalgic to you. You feel cornered by it. It's hard to escape from so many different elements of capitalistic ideology. It's hard to escape work. The alternative Vietnamese title is, because we couldn’t find a proper way to translate it, but it roughly translates to trapped in life. Because you are stuck in these cycles.

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Danny Luong is an emerging photographer based in Moh’kinsstsis on traditional Treaty 7 land (Calgary, Alberta.) Luong holds a BA in journalism from Mount Royal University and works to represent landed East-Asian migrants and refugees through personal documentary.

Luong is interested in ancestral lineages and the effects of history on generations of migrants. With an emphasis on duality, Luong’s graphic style recalls both snapshots and gritty photojournalism from a mix of medium format, 35mm, and digital stills. Luong’s subjects emphasize the tribulations of generations, shared cultural values and the effects of displacement on first and second generation Canadian lives.

Luong won an emerging photographer award at the Exposure Photo Festival in 2023 which was exhibited at Contemporary Calgary for his work ‘we were growers’. Luong has shown work with Art Toronto, Alberta Society of Artists, Arts Commons, Asian Heritage Foundation Calgary and was selected to be part of the Exposure Studio Collective.

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Image Credit Stefan Legisa