When Tobi was a young kid growing up in Da Lat, he was something of a small town celebrity. He could do what many people spend their whole lives believing they can’t—he could draw. In exchange for sweet treats and soft drinks, he would be invited to weddings and parties to draw sketches of people and places, putting smiles on their faces every time he did. Years later, after he finished architecture school here in Saigon, he decided the world does not need more architects. What the world needs is for more people to understand they can draw too. Since then, he has dedicated himself to helping make that become a reality.
I met Tobi at this year’s LÔCÔ Art Market where he set up a booth alongside Viet, the founder of the outdoor clothing brand, The Collectors. He gifted my girlfriend and I animal postcards to color on when we stopped by their booth. Unbeknownst to us, while we were coloring, he was sketching us doing so. A few moments later when we shared our cards with him, he shared his with us, one sketch a piece to take home. Along with that, he gave us another gift — a voucher to his sketch class called Ký Họa Sống Động which translates to “lively sketch.”
We met up with him and a small group the following week at La Rotonde Saigon, a French Indochina inspired cafe nestled inside of an abandoned warehouse from the 1950’s with high glass steel framed windows welcoming lots of natural light, unfinished carved walls throughout, and plenty of nostalgic artifacts from 20th century Saigon. In other words, the perfect place to escape the hustle and bustle of the city to sit, sketch, and get lost in the flow.
After a brief introduction by Tobi explaining concepts like structure, shading, and balance, he asked our small group to find something to draw. After perusing the place, I decided on the corner of the cafe next to our table. The subject intrigued me. It was a bust of what appeared to be the head of Michaelengelo’s David sitting on a stack of half a dozen books with a red scarf wrapped around its eyes and a yellowish round light glowing behind. As I got into the flow of my sketch and began to ponder the peculiarities of the subject in the frame at hand, slowly but surely a deeper meaning emerged.
Tobi has been teaching sketching classes for roughly three years and now has his own studio, Rừng Mơ Arts. Whether you are old or young, a beginner or expert, you can tell when you’re sitting at the table across from him teaching that he knows how to do this, he’s good at it, and he truly enjoys it. And that’s true no matter the setting — meeting students in different cafes around the city, having people come to his studio, or for a group of people to team up and go on art trips together in Da Lat for example. And during our chat after the class, he told me exactly why he is motivated to help people: everything begins with a sketch.
Whether you’re designing a building or making a movie or writing, being able to sketch out your ideas first is huge. That could be a floor plan. That could be a storyboard. That could be an outline. All require you to first put pen to paper and sketch your ideas in one way or another. Being able to do so is a powerful thing.“By the end of this class,” Tobi says, standing next to me as I attempt to sketch a blindfolded David, “you are going to learn that everyone can draw.”
Those are powerful words to hear from a teacher, especially considering my father's a successful architect, and I've grown accustomed to believing I can't draw. I am reminded of this belief on a regular basis when I’m teaching English, standing at the whiteboard, marker at the ready, realizing that beyond a stickman, a house, a tree, and a sun in the top right corner, Google remains my best friend in explaining new vocabulary to students.
That said, sitting at the table in La Rotonde Saigon, surrounded by other students, young and old, beginner and experienced, and equally encouraged by Tobi’s enthusiasm and presence, I felt that day was the day to believe I can. I was reminded of the proverb: when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. Or perhaps seen another way: when the teacher appears, the student will be ready to learn the lesson at hand. The one right in front of me.
From my perspective, it was not a coincidence the subject in frame in front of me was a bust of a blindfolded David seated on a stack of half a dozen books with a yellowish light glowing behind. Michelangelo’s statue is well known around the world. What is less known is the story behind it. Interestingly enough it seemed the story of David, Michelangelo’s mindset, my beliefs on drawing, and Tobi’s teachings all coincide. As Tobi tells me a big part of learning to draw is learning how to see. Sitting there, seeing, and sketching, the deeper meaning I mentioned earlier began to take shape.
For decades the large block of marble that would later become the statue of David was considered too flawed and difficult to work on, leaving it abandoned and deemed worthless. It wasn’t until a young Michelangelo decided to take a crack at it. He spent roughly three years of intense labor sculpting his vision. Later in 1504 in Florence, Italy, the statue of David was released to the world. From that day forward, Michelangelo’s masterpiece has been considered one of the greatest pieces of art ever made.
The statue represents David, the biblical hero who defeats Goliath with nothing more than a sling, some stones, and his faith. While most artwork up until then featured David standing tall and triumphant after victory, Michelangelo chose instead to depict David standing tall and courageous before battle. It captured a young shepherd as calm, clever, and confident in the face of a colossal giant. It became a symbol of Florence itself in the fight against more powerful rivals like the Medici’s. Michelangelo’s David is the human potential embodied in stone. While others saw a ruined block, Michelangelo famously said, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”
Michelangelo’s vision came to life and changed the world forever. Its symbolic power carved its way through art, religion, politics, advertising, and even psychology. In the late 1990’s, a group of psychologists studied how romantic partners sculpt each other and observed what they coined the “Michelangelo phenomenon.” Point blank: who you spend time with is either slowly chipping away at your potential or steadily carving away and setting free your ideal self. Although originally studied in relationship therapy, I believe the theory extends outward including family, friends and teachers.
Like Michelangelo, Tobi sees the angel in the marble – the potential in each student. He gets to work by chipping away at your fears, doubts, and limiting self-beliefs. Throughout the lesson he gives you space to create but knows the value of stepping in every now and then to remind you that everyone can draw. Like he said, a lot of drawing is the art of seeing and a lot of teaching is the art of helping people see the potential in themselves. Like David, Tobi stands tall and courageous next to his students, who in their own way, are facing colossal inner blocks. This is why again I believe it is not a coincidence that the subject in the frame at hand is a bust of David sitting on a stack of half a dozen books with a red scarf wrapped around its eyes and a yellowish round light glowing behind. The symbolism of it all made sense.
The bust of David in the corner of the cafe represents the student who believes they can’t draw. The bust sits on a stack of a half dozen books representing the stack of evidence or knowledge or the weight of what you limit yourself on. The red scarf represents how easily the student is blinded to its own heroism. The yellow light glowing behind represents the creative spark ever present, the glowing possibility. Being a student in Tobi’s class represents the act of removing that scarf and finally allowing yourself to see the shining potential that’s always been there.
This is what makes what Tobi is doing special. He is not just teaching people that they can draw. He is teaching people to see. To see what is right in front of them with new eyes. To see their own potential in a new light. To see what the world needs and how they may provide that. To see that the light is always there — and so is he, helping remove blindfolds and setting them free.
