continued. . . 

What’s most striking about Ly’s success is that all of this happened in the midst of the Vietnam War when the pacifist simply wanted to make porcelain. That meant keeping a low profile and firing the kilns whenever an opportunity arose despite daily bombing raids which made production a constant struggle.

By 1975, the war was at an end, but that didn’t mean an end to Ly’s struggles. In the aftermath of the war, it was difficult to run any business. Minh Long almost closed its doors many times over the ensuing years with Ly even returning to farming for his family to survive. Still, the factory endured, but the Minh Long partnership didn’t. In 1980, Ly and his partner parted ways. “We had different visions,” Ly merely states.

On his own, Ly took the time to explore new directions. He was stifled, eager to craft a product representative of Vietnamese culture, but with westernized sensibilities. Ly’s multi-year odyssey took him through Europe and Asia “on a path of historical research and creative discovery.” He began at home, researching the architecture of Vietnam, visiting hundreds of temples, pagodas, citadels, and tombs throughout the country. ”I didn’t find what I was looking for,” Ly informs. “I was looking for an authentic Vietnamese character, one with ancient roots which could be infused with modern art, one that would be recognized worldwide.”

Ly continued his travels to other parts of Asia and Europe hoping to stimulate his creative juices. But whatever he saw – ancient pottery in China, art carvings in Rome, ornate porcelain in Germany, or delicate Limoges in France – never quite satisfied his muse. Even he wasn’t certain what he was hoping to discover. Ly visited the world’s ceramic centers, observed techniques, marveled at their abilities and technologies, soaking it all in. In 1995, Ly took advantage of the government’s relaxing of economic controls and upgraded his manufacturing capability with the latest technology from Germany, Japan, and England, perfecting his highly translucent, pure white, high gloss product, reminiscent of Villeroy & Boch, one of the factories he visited and greatly admired.

Still Ly was in pursuit of his eureka moment. “I wondered if what I had been searching for could ever be found,” he accedes. “I had walked among ancient historical temples and buildings, seen world-famous architectural structures and artistic art creations, observed ceramic pieces made by 24,000-year old pottery-making techniques, and admired delicate and exquisite porcelain wares. I should have had enough material for my project, but I remained unenlightened. What I sought – an element that would blend modern art and culture into an authentic Vietnamese character - eluded me.”

Then, at the Louvre, admiring services used by kings of ancient times, Ly stumbled upon his aha moment. “I wondered if I should design two different types of patterns,” he reveals. “One with images that represent Vietnam’s folk style with scenes of the countryside and daily life activities, and the other that represents Vietnamese royal tradition and culture.“ So in 2000, after years of searching, Ly set the course that would take Minh Long Porcelain into a new millennium, literally and figuratively.

Minh Long was born of Ly’s struggles and today it’s a thriving enterprise. In the middle of a five-year renovation which will triple the size of the current factory, Ly reluctantly applauds his persistence. “This is my dream fulfilled,” he says, “contributing to the ceramic art and culture of Vietnam in a special and unique way.“