Welcome to the Cuar-zone, Dano tells me, or as he likes to say, his little slice of dankness. Pens. Markers. Canisters. Art on the walls. Sketches on the ground. Sticks of incense burning. Seven cats roaming around. A palette with a small reservoir of one-and-done, hand-mixed concoctions like his faded tangerine, lime green, and deep night ocean blue, reserved for his touch ups and his touch ups only. Whenever I get the chance to interview people, I’ve found it’s always best to meet them where they’re at — on their turf, be it their bar, their kitchen, or in this case, out on their patio on the top floor of an apartment building in Nhà Bè. There, in his art studio, surrounded by wood, paint cans, and bottles of glue, as well as enough essential oils to fill your imagination, it is clear this is Dano’s dojo.
“So these are ones that have already sold,” he says, showing me around the place, “but this is the huuuge one I’m working on,” he adds, pointing to what was at the time an incomplete piece. But now that piece is one of eighteen untitled artworks featured at his second solo exhibition Geopersonification. It is a collaboration with Commonplace and is currently on display at Oliuu Creative Bistro on Phạm Viết Chánh Street. The exhibition is all about Dano’s evolution as an artist, and in particular the evolution of his geometric characters that over the years have morphed into his own signature style. Dano’s exploration of humanity, geometry, and energy has resulted in a body of work that feels alive — abstract forms that move, feel, and vibe.
Dano says he got his rhythm from his roots in Costa Rica, where his parents used to work as missionaries. After Costa Rica his family spent a bit of time in the Dominican Republic before moving to California where he later attended Trabuco Hills High School in Mission Viejo. Roughly eight years later he ended up in Vietnam, first Hanoi for three years and now Saigon for the last five. However, it was that stretch of time post-high school, pre-Vietnam, that had a monumental impact on him. He had a lot to share about that period, but also could sum it up in one word: rough.
After high school, Dano moved up north to attend San Francisco State. First year was good and he had lots of fun. Second year was a little too good and he had a little too much fun. Ultimately, he made the decision to drop out and move back down south. From there he spent a few years at Saddleback Community College before transferring to Cal State Dominguez where he eventually graduated with a degree in audio recording. It was at Dominguez around 2016 that he experienced a breakthrough.
At the time, Dano’s attempt at being a jack-of-all-trades was fragmenting his focus and wearing on him, as it does with many people. He was making music, doing photography, skating, and, of course, still having a bit of fun, but he gained clarity around the fact that if he wanted to be really good at something he would have to direct his energy in a specific direction — he chose art. From that day forward he declared first himself and then to others who he was, “I am a fucking artist.”
Following his personal declaration, he approached the head of the art faculty with a simple request: “I don’t wanna do music anymore. I wanna do art.” He signed off on it all immediately and in Dano’s final year as he explains he got all the good stuff of art school without being an art student — taking classes on drawing, painting, mural making, photography, and graphic design. All the skills gained in that final year of college are all the skills that he still uses to this day in the very studio we were sitting in chatting.
Listening to Dano’s journey and how it led to the conversation with the head of art faculty makes me realize there’s a reason your journey meanders as it does, why all of your interests act as tributaries channeling back to your main thing, and why you meet certain people along the way. It makes me think of a classic quote from The Alchemist, “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” He wanted to do art and the universe has been conspiring in his favor ever since.
Six months after graduation he reached out to a friend to see if he happened to be going to a concert that year. His friend responded saying no and that he lived in Hanoi. Dano’s response: “Where’s Hanoi?” Before you know it, Dano got his answer. Living in Hanoi is where he says he got even more into art, drawing monkeys and leaning into geometric shapes MC Escher-style. Three years later he moved back to California during COVID before relocating again to Saigon after six months.
Moving to Saigon resulted in a string of happy accidents. First was doing an abstract piece for Collective Ambience. That was a huge boost of momentum needed at the onset of a big move back across the world. Second was meeting his friend Nghia who introduced him to CNC cutting (Computer Numerical Control cutting) allowing him to create complex shapes with laser precision. That was a huge boost too because meeting Nghia led to meeting Dano’s other friend Tuan (who helps cut the wood he uses to this day) which led to him drastically increasing his creative output to the point he was making a new piece every two to three weeks for a year straight. Third, however, is the other breakthrough moment in Dano’s story — the birth of his characters. He attended a live drawing session which opened the floodgates of his mind. It was as if a dam holding a reservoir of inspiration burst — his Mexican heritage, his emotional states, skating culture, breakdancing, music, sex, anything and everything related to moving, feeling, and vibing — all coalesced into him spending the last three years constructing his vision into what you see hanging on walls both at his studio and exhibition.
All of the pieces undergo the same creative process. It begins with a pencil and a notebook. Sharp angles are soon rounded to create softness. Inlays are soon placed to create depth. Then comes pen, later color, and soon the figure is moved to his computer. Inside Adobe Illustrator, he goes in with the bezier and pathfinder tool to construct a collection of shapes. Those shapes get sent to Tuan to get cut. After he gets them back he sands them down, adds primer, adds more primer, adds color, adds more color, puts all of the puzzle pieces together, and then glues them to the backpiece. Boom, finished. It’s a process that over the years he’s fallen in love with getting lost in the flow of.
Flow is an important concept to Dano. He gives a lot of credit to the father of flow, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, author of the famous book on the subject. The Hungarian psychologist likens the flow experience to ecstasy according to its philosophical definition. This comes from the Greek term “ekstasis” and means to stand to the side of something, stepping outside of yourself and into an alternative reality. In essence, your existence is temporarily suspended and you escape yourself. For a moment there in the studio, while his brother Steve’s DJ set plays on the speakers and Dano sat hunched over his laptop, immersed in the creation of one of his characters, he was no longer with me. He was outside of himself. I could tell he’s done this so many times by how quickly and effortlessly he dips into his own state of flow. This is what he does. This is who he is.
But the creative process is not the only flow he drops into every now and then. For many years it was skating or audio design or dancing the night away at a club or even DJing as Moose Man, his alter ego. But when you meet him you see how he easily gets lost in the flow of conversation too. I know this first hand given our different conversations, not to mention our interview which lasted hours. That’s another thing I’ve learned throughout my own creative process. The best interviews aren’t interviews. They are conversations. Natural and flowing and dancing to their own unique beat.
One of my favorite moments was seeing him at his show last week, in the flow of talking to guests, chatting, dancing, and having a great time. I asked, “What is that cheetah, leopard?” pointing to his collared shirt. He looked back at me with a grin, “Giraffe. But you wanna see a tiger?” He then ripped open his shirt to show the tiger tattoo in progress all across his chest. The artistic process is everywhere and never stops for him, I thought.
Case in point, after stopping by to say hi and congratulate him the District 0 crew wandered around the exhibition on the third floor, indulged in Oliuu’s special menu created for the night on the second floor, and were serenaded by the sweet melodies of Saigon’s evening construction crew present for a full performance out on the street. Like the art inside, the cityscape outside keeps evolving.
Reflecting on my chat with Dano and visiting the opening night of the exhibition, things started to click in my mind. It’s important to know where you get your rhythm from, know where your roots are, and know how where and when you grew up shapes you. It’s important to understand how powerful the concept of flow is, understand what puts you in a sense of flow, and understand how to get back to it when you lose it. Knowing rhythm and understanding flow are both essential, but ultimately I believe the sign of a true artist is one that does not shy away from evolution, but rather embraces it — through effort, over time, never resisting. One who embraces the challenge of evolving as an artist by first declaring they are one and then putting in the time and effort to become who they say they are.
It’s exactly like how Dano works back at his dojo, the Cuar-zone, his little slice of dankness. He first draws a geometric figure with paper and pencil. Then he declares the character’s identity with rough edges and sharp angles. Slowly but surely through his love for the process he smooths the edges, softens the angles, and adds his own distinct colors. That’s when the abstract awakens, remembering its rhythm, finding its flow, and evolving into something alive. In the end, the characters you see hanging on the wall are the geopersonification of Dano himself — someone who moves, feels, and vibes to his own evolving rhythm and flow.
