Patrick Pépin, the soul of a journey through Vietnam 1/2

Vincent Beauchamp: Patrick, after your time in Thailand, what drew you to Vietnam rather than somewhere else this time?

Patrick Pépin: I had already visited Vietnam 25 years ago, but it has been so long that it feels like a fresh discovery. The country is currently going through an incredible period of growth and development. As a backpacker, what I am always looking for is the more authentic, less touristy side. I told myself: I think it is time to come before it gets too developed, because there are still beautiful hidden gems to find. The Vietnamese are so kind and welcoming, they want so much to please us, and nowadays, you’ll often arrive at tourist beaches where there is no Vietnamese cuisine left, no Vietnamese music, and unfortunately everything has been shaped around what tourists want. So before it is too late, I said to myself: there is still time to discover the true gems of Vietnam.  

Vincent Beauchamp: When you arrive in a new country, what exactly are you looking for: do you already know what you want to find, or do you let yourself be completely surprised?

Patrick Pépin: Not exactly. I love being surprised. It’s so easy today to plan everything in advance: you can go on Google Maps, preview your hotel, know which restaurants are nearby, see every tourist activity available. I make a conscious effort not to do any of that before I leave. I look at general things: safety, the economic situation, the weather. I travel very minimally: my gym bag, a pair of sneakers, two or three t-shirts. For this six-week trip, I had only booked the first six nights. After that, the planning takes shape on its own, through the people you meet and how you feel in the moment. It is a trip that builds itself the way my paintings do: organically, through instinct and the happy accidents of beautiful encounters.

Vincent Beauchamp: What was the first colour or texture you encountered there that immediately made your artist’s eye come alive?

Patrick Pépin: After my second day in Hanoi, I set out to explore on foot everything I could cover around my hotel, north, south, east and west. Those first days, dealing with jet lag, I would wake up around 3 in the morning and head out to walk the streets when they were empty, before sunrise. I would walk until 6 or 7 in the evening, around 12 hours a day. At one point I came across a magnificent urban art mural made from recycled materials that immediately drew me in, both for the textures and the colours. It looked like it had been made from small pieces of recycled electrical wire, yet it had an incredible sense of perspective. I spent a long time just standing in front of it. It left a very strong impression on me. There is something about inspiration I have come to understand over the years: you cannot put it in a can and open it whenever it suits you. Inspiration is often immediate. Photographs let you hold onto those sparks. You can pull them out six months or a year later, back in Quebec, and let them ignite the work.

Vincent Beauchamp: How do you experience “the street” in Vietnam: are you in the flow with the locals, or do you step back to observe?

Patrick Pépin: I had incredible encounters from the moment I arrived. Without even looking for it, I immediately found the local artists’ hangout. I met a guitarist from Taiwan, people who make paintings, and expats who have been living here for three years. Those people know where the food is good, where there is atmosphere, where the prices are fair. It allowed me to build real connections with people. After barely four days, people were offering me meals, beers, and I was inviting them out to karaoke. All of that happens because I try to integrate with the locals. I cannot stand tourist-heavy places because I do not understand the point of flying 30 hours to eat the same food you have at home. When I come here, I like to take a vacation from myself, from everything I do back home and even from everything I am. I am not “Patrick the artist” for a few weeks: I live in the present moment. Travel reconnects me enormously to that present moment.

Vincent Beauchamp: Your paintings often start from a precise instant or detail: is it something you see, something you feel, or both at once?

Patrick Pépin: Sometimes a painting begins with a precise vision, sometimes not at all. It is a lot like travel, actually. I have done very planned trips and very improvised ones. Paintings are the same way. I love continuing collections I have already started. It is like returning to familiar ground, a place you love. But it is also genuinely exciting to set off on a new adventure. Sometimes you are wrong, sometimes it is disappointing, but it is okay to take the risk of making a painting that does not turn out beautiful. That is part of the artistic process. I had a hard time accepting that early on. A bit like in life, sometimes you have to set something aside. It sits in the studio, and then one day you find the solution through other work. It is the same in life: you solve problems, but sometimes it takes longer than you expected. And sometimes those are the paintings that turn out to be the most beautiful.

Vincent Beauchamp: Was there a precise moment, between the chaos of the markets and the serenity of the temples, when you felt you had found what you came for?

Patrick Pépin: Honestly, no. I think we search for something that has already found us, in the sense that life often brings us what we need. When I was young, I believed that travelling the world would give me all the answers, resolve my existential questions, help me know myself better and understand the world. Unfortunately, it brought me far more questions than answers. In my case, it is more of an infinite quest that is never truly satisfied.

Vincent Beauchamp: Has Vietnam shaken your certainties, or has it rather confirmed an intuition you already carried within you?

Patrick Pépin: I think it is too early to say. I have barely arrived. I have been here for about ten days out of a total trip of a month and a half. So far, the balance sheet of my first week is incredibly positive. I have travelled through about thirty countries over the past thirty years. Countries I loved deeply, like Thailand, I have returned to about ten times. But honestly, in barely ten days, it feels like my heart is changing countries. I have truly fallen hard for Vietnam. The warmth of the people, the quality of life... The cost of living matters a great deal when you travel. Right now, in Vietnam I am staying in a room that costs nine dollars per person for double occupancy, breakfast included. The quality of life and the beautiful experiences you can afford at that price are simply incredible.

Vincent Beauchamp: Is there an image, a light or even a scent that you already know we will find in your next paintings?

Patrick Pépin: While wandering through the neighbourhoods, I stumbled onto a memorial park dedicated to the deep wounds and scars of the war. Pieces of aircraft, broken and in ruins. I have always worked in paint up until now, but when I looked at all those twisted pieces of plane, scorched by flames and explosions, that had crashed to the ground, I felt there was already something there like works of art. What they carry as a message is painful, but it is also important to remember so that these things never happen again. It has been working on my mind: I would love to sculpt abstract shapes made from ruined engine fragments, then painted over. My mind has been turning that over a great deal over the past few days.

Vincent Beauchamp: You have this unique signature of attaching a physical witness from your travels to the back of your works. What object or fragment will you definitely bring back from Vietnam to play that role of keeper of your memories?

Patrick Pépin: I normally never talk about my inspirations while they are still taking shape or before they have been born, because I have been discouraged so many times when I share a new idea. I mention metal sculptures and someone says: “That will be too heavy, it will not sell.” Paper maché: “Too fragile, it will break in transport.” Works on paper: “That is tricky, you have to frame them.” Collages: “People have a hard time with those.” Wood pieces: “You cannot roll those.” So I often keep my ideas to myself. Because otherwise you always end up making the same things that worked before, and nothing new ever moves forward. I protect my new ideas.

Note: Questions about returning to the studio, about travel as recharging versus triggering a new creative cycle, and about the dominant emotion of the future Vietnamese collection were not yet answered. Patrick was heading out to explore Cat Ba Island by electric bike when the interview came to a close. More to come!  

Patrick Pépin, from Vietnam, April 9, 2026