The visual approach centres on placing something bold, polished and deliberately chic within the most ordinary of environments—the corridors, stairwells, passageways and transitional spaces that are usually crossed without a second glance. These settings are functional, familiar and almost invisible in their mundanity, yet that very ordinariness creates the perfect backdrop for contrast.
By introducing a strong visual presence into these overlooked spaces, the mundane is transformed into something cinematic. The simplicity of the architecture allows styling, silhouette, posture, texture and expression to take precedence, creating a tension between the unremarkable setting and the heightened presence within it. Rather than competing for attention, the environment recedes, becoming a quiet frame for something far more commanding.
There is particular interest in liminal spaces, places that exist between destinations, associated with movement rather than permanence. Corridors, stairwells, lifts, waiting areas and empty passageways are rarely considered worthy of attention in themselves. Reframing them as settings for fashion and image-making interrupts their usual function and gives them a new visual significance.
Ultimately, the intention is to make the contrast feel almost arresting: something refined, striking and self-assured emerging from a setting that would otherwise go unnoticed. The surrounding space remains recognisable in its ordinariness but everything else is visually subdued until the central subject becomes impossible to look away from.
I’m Chi, an aspiring Creative Director based in Hanoi, Vietnam.
For as long as I can remember, I have been drawn to making worlds of my own. It began with inventing characters for the cartoons I loved, sketching them into existence and building stories around lives that existed nowhere but in my imagination. There was something quietly thrilling about taking an idea that lived only in my head and giving it a form I could see and hold. Later came seven years in Melbourne where that instinct was fed by a world far larger than the one I had known—different cultures, perspectives and forms of art unfolding around me at every turn. It was there that I came to understand the peculiar intimacy of encountering someone else’s work: that sense of awe in standing before something made by a person whose history, culture and way of seeing the world may be entirely different from my own, yet somehow being invited, for a fleeting moment, to see through their eyes.
Art was always the direction I instinctively leaned towards, yet for years I found ways not to follow it. Opportunities appeared and I let them pass. Practicality came first. Certainty came first. The “sensible” path came first. That has remained one of my greatest regrets—not because I believe there was a single moment I missed but because I spent too long ignoring the part of myself that already knew what it wanted.
This is my attempt to change that. To make something of that regret rather than allowing myself to quietly grow around it.
Why Creative Directing?
Because creativity has never been the only thing I love.
I also love order.
I like taking something scattered and finding the structure inside it. I like planning the trip, arranging the schedule, keeping track of the details, anticipating what might go wrong and making sure everything eventually falls into place. There is something deeply satisfying to me about smoothing out the creases, about taking an idea that exists loosely in someone’s mind and giving it enough structure to become real.
For a long time, that instinct naturally pushed me towards corporate work. On paper, it made sense. Organisation, coordination, deadlines, systems—these were all things I was good at. But the longer I stayed within that world, the clearer it became that structure without creativity felt restrictive rather than satisfying. I did not simply want to manage things. I wanted to make them.
Then a close friend introduced me to the idea of photoshoots.
At first, it was casual. Personal shoots, small ideas, something fun to do together. But gradually, I began taking ownership of every detail. I built mood boards, thought about colour palettes and references, styled outfits, considered locations, experimented with framing and composition, and tried to understand what made one image feel intentional while another simply looked beautiful.
What began as taking photographs became something much more interesting: building a world around an idea.
For the first time in a long while, I felt completely absorbed by what I was doing. There was an almost immediate sense of recognition in seeing something that had existed only in my head begin to take physical form. The clothes, the location, the posture, the light, the image… all gradually aligning around the same idea. After the numbness I had come to associate with a conventional nine-to-five, that feeling was like air.
And eventually, one thought became difficult to ignore:
Why should I stop at bringing only my own visions to life?
That is what draws me to creative directing—the intersection between imagination and execution. It allows me to combine the parts of myself that once seemed contradictory: the person who wants to dream freely and the person who needs to know how everything is going to come together.
I am interested in the entire process: shaping an initial idea, building its visual language, finding references, planning the details, coordinating the moving pieces and ultimately creating something that feels cohesive and intentional.
I am still at the beginning of that journey and I do not pretend otherwise. But there is something exciting about beginning deliberately, about learning through making, experimenting, collaborating and slowly developing a visual language that feels recognisably my own.
If there is something in your head that you can almost see but cannot quite translate into the world, I would love to help give it shape. And if the idea is simpler—if you simply want to step in front of a camera and feel a little more confident, considered or like a version of yourself you have not quite seen before—I would love to help with that too.
