If You Were to Ask Me, I Wouldn’t Know. LGBT culture in Los Angeles. An ongoing series.
Photography: Hon Hoang In a packed theater in Downtown Los Angeles, the sounds of the audience echo into the locker room. The distant chatter and shuffling of fold out chairs fill the room as the luchadores (masked wrestlers) prepare for their match.
Photography & Writing: Hon Hoang Finding the right words buried under two and a half decades of assimilation proved to be difficult. Perhaps it was my accent, my child-like vocabulary, or maybe everything about me was foreign to this place I thought of as home. Being in Ho Chi Minh city after 11 years since my […]
Photographer: Hon Hoang Not much happens here. It’s just the everyday and the day to day. There’s just the mundane and the dull. The stale air gives way to a spring breeze. Upon inspection, there’s beauty in what was thought to be colorless. It’s just the everyday and the day to day.
With a stop in Macau Hong Kong Express is a series that explores the everyday life of the people that call Hong Kong their home. In this fast moving and densely populated city, I sought to showcase daily activities and portray beauty in that exists between moments of routine life. Photographer: Hon Hoang
Photographer: Hon Hoang Four cities, five rallies, and one (ex) President. I came to South Korea at an interesting time in it’s history. Randomly walking into impeachment rallies, for then South Korean President Park Geun Hye, it felt as if you could not take a stroll in any given city without being swept into the fervor […]
Photography and text by Hon Hoang I found myself in good fortune as I attended a photo meetup hosted by National Geographic. During this time, I met some great photographers and gained insightful knowledge about photography. The purpose of the meet up was to capture the dichotomy of Seoul. How centuries old palaces and are […]
Spent 24 hours in Tokyo. There was little time for sleep. It’s easy to disappear here, in Tokyo. In a city like this, no one knows who you are. Fade and disappear into a sea of anonymity. Like a grain of sand flowing through the bottleneck, collecting at the bottom of the chronograph. Time moves […]