Legacy 80: French-Vietnamese artist Clément Baloup and the paintings that re-draw the forgotten memories of overseas Vietnamese

Many Vietnamese readers are familiar with Japanese manga or American superhero comics. While some may know Astérix, most French comics remain largely unknown. French comics often differ in style and content, exploring serious and mature themes.

CB: Exactly. In many countries, comics were traditionally aimed at children. As audiences matured, the medium evolved. Artists began addressing more serious themes through comics, giving rise to the concept of the “graphic novel.”

In France, this transformation over recent decades has fostered a rich tradition of adult comics. I believe it is vital for Vietnamese readers and artists to have access to these works—not only for enjoyment, but also as tools for education and social reflection.

One creative theme you have pursued for the past 20 years is the story of Vietnamese expatriates around the world. What inspired you to start creating comics about their migration journey?

CB: In 2004, I had just graduated from art school and was looking for an opportunity to become a comic artist. At that time, the publishing industry in France was open to new and unexplored topics. Around the same time, someone told me: “Only what you know well can you tell clearly.” For my first comic book, I chose to tell the story of my father leaving Vietnam for France.

I was in my twenties then, the same age as my father when he left Saigon in the 1960s. For a long time, I did not fully understand why he had to leave his homeland. Through personal conversations and studying Vietnamese history, I gradually discovered the broader context: colonialism, war, political conflict and large waves of migration. To this day, I have spent 20 years continuing to explore this theme.

Unlike other forms, such as novels, comics allow us to recreate the human mindset and psychology within historical narratives. In my view, this is essential for understanding past events. Showing the perspective of those involved helps us appreciate their choices, while allowing us to avoid judging them by today’s standards.

See more: Cao Hoang Long: an ‘illogical’ approach to bringing Vietnamese art to the world

It is clear that you invest great care in your work. For instance, the book Chan Dang, part of the series Memories of Overseas Vietnamese recently released in Vietnam, intersperses archival documents between chapters. How did you approach these materials?

CB: I found them in the archives of Nouméa, the capital of New Caledonia, where thousands of Vietnamese were brought by the French to work as miners in the 19th and 20th centuries. The archivists were extremely helpful. I discovered and included many historical documents, a racist report by a colonial official, a letter from a European communist defending the Vietnamese, and letters written by the Vietnamese themselves. These materials enrich the story with depth and authenticity, reviving memories that had been forgotten.

Through your work, you are highlighting historical episodes that have remained little known—perhaps to both Vietnamese and French audiences. How have French readers responded to these discoveries?

CB: The response has been remarkable. Initially, many French readers were surprised, even shocked. These were stories that had been forgotten or deliberately excluded from mainstream history. Some were sceptical, but many were eager to learn more and to acknowledge the contributions and losses of Vietnamese people on French soil.

My work is part of a wider movement. Filmmakers, journalists and other artists have begun exploring these stories, and I see myself as contributing to a collective effort to recover lost memories.

When I began these comics, I thought I would write them mainly for myself, unsure if readers would be interested. The public reception has, however, been unexpected. In France, many readers said: “These stories are interesting, because everyone in France has a Vietnamese friend or a favourite Vietnamese restaurant.” Yet they often know little about the Vietnamese experience during historical upheavals in France. I am pleased that my work can help them understand more about both the past and the present.

It seems that the 20 years of writing the book series was also a journey for you to explore your Vietnamese identity and answer very personal questions. During that process, how did your perception of your dual Vietnamese-French identities change?

CB: I have learned a great deal, though the process of discovery is far from over. Creating the books has given me the chance to connect more deeply with Vietnamese culture and history. The emotions I experienced, love, anger, grief and healing, were all intensely felt, and the graphic novel format is the perfect medium to express them. I find it profoundly rewarding to explore how my French and Vietnamese identities intersect.

Although the stories I tell are often tinged with suffering, they also convey resilience and hope. I have met many overseas Vietnamese who have endured sacrifice, yet rebuilt their lives with strength and optimism. Witnessing that spirit of perseverance, I recognise a very distinctive Vietnamese trait.

I was truly moved reading your work. Do you plan to continue the Viet Kieu series in the future? Are there other topics you are exploring?

CB: Yes, I will definitely continue. At present, I am particularly interested in the Vietnamese community in Australia, especially in Melbourne and Sydney. However, this is a very emotional topic, so at times I need to pause and focus on other subjects to maintain balance.

For instance, I recently collaborated with a Korean artist on a book about a refugee camp in southern France in the 20th century, which housed Spanish Republicans fleeing Franco, Jews and Roma escaping Nazi Germany, and Algerians after independence. It is also a story of displacement, though in a different cultural context.

I have also just released a more upbeat book—I Chose Wanderer Over Millionaire—about the American ecologist John Muir, who prioritised conservation over the American Dream of wealth and inspired the national park movement in the United States. Working with such figures allows me a reprieve from more personal and reflective projects.

How do you perceive your responsibility in preserving and transmitting Vietnamese memories?

CB: At first, I simply wanted to tell a good story. Yet as readers, particularly Vietnamese in France, responded so strongly, I began to see the wider significance of my work.

Why do I continue? Because many stories remain untold. The history of the diaspora is often hidden, forgotten, or suppressed. Through art forms, such as graphic novels, films, journalism, the diaspora is gradually piecing these stories together. The relationship between Vietnam, France, and the United States in the 19th and 20th centuries was complex. As a creator, I feel a responsibility to memory, because memory is a living entity. If neglected, it will slowly vanish.

Some people say my work functions not only as art but also as a social archive. If it can achieve both, I am truly content.

Artist Clément Baloup was born in 1978 to a French mother and a French-Vietnamese father. He grew up in France, Europe, Polynesia, and South America. After studying design in Marseille, he pursued fine arts at the Angoulême School of Fine Arts (France) and the Hanoi University of Fine Arts (Vietnam).

Clément is a gifted artist of adventure and historical comics. His work has been translated into numerous languages. In addition to comics, he is also a newspaper illustrator. Clément Baloup’s work has received multiple prestigious awards, including the Jury Prize at the Angoulême International Comics Festival in 2011 and the Doctors Without Borders Award in Clermont-Ferrand.

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