The xich lo (cyclo) is as ubiquitous in Vietnam as the tuk tuk is in Thailand, but completely man-powered: The driver peddles the vehicle behind the comfortably seated passenger. It is currently an important mode of transportation on Vietnam's streets, as well as a livelihood for countless drivers, and yet the Vietnamese government has begun an aggressive campaign to eliminate this pollutionless mode of transport. This will leave countless cyclo drivers without a means of making a living.

"Events in Between" by Jun Nguyen-Hatsushiba, installation at Kwangju Biennale 2000

To focus on this issue and suggest an alternative future for the cyclo and its drivers, Vietnamese artist Jun Nguyen-Hatsushiba has created a "Cyclo Showroom" installation titled "Xich Lo 2001 -- The Making of Alternative History" at Mizuma Art Gallery. A simulacra of a car showroom, Nguyen-Hatsushiba displays two new cyclo prototypes that he designed, complete with advertising copy and posters on the wall to promote the new "product," which, sadly, will never be manufactured as under the new restrictions the production of new cyclos has been prohibited.

As Vietnam's economy has developed car traffic has also increased, with the slower-moving cyclos being blamed for causing traffic jams. Some streets in the cities have signs banning the entry of cyclos, and once a cyclo's license has expired it cannot be renewed (no new licenses are being issued). Needless to say it is illegal to drive a cyclo without a license, so its days certainly appear to be numbered.

Nguyen-Hatsushiba posits an alternative reality for the cyclo industry in this exhibition, and in so doing exposes the structures and political ordinances that shape or ruin lives so arbitrarily in the name of development. This possible "alternate reality" Nguyen-Hatsushiba has made juxtaposes fake showroom ads and cyclo prototypes alongside actual interview quotes and the life stories of cyclo drivers. A series of photographic head shots of some older drivers, many of whose lives were destroyed by the Vietnam War and the subsequent unification of North and South, and had no other choice but to become cyclo drivers, brings a very real element to showroom charade.

"It is my desire to create an alternative situation in order to observe the possibilities of manipulated history and also to simultaneously observe real history," Nguyen-Hatsushiba explained at the opening.

"Seat for Sale" by Jun Nguyen-Hatsushiba, installation, cyclo seats beside a mirror, 1998

The two shiny new prototypes of the great cyclo and xe ba gac (a heavy-duty vehicle similar to the cyclo but used for transporting cargo) are unlike any bicycles I have ever seen before and are a curious blend of old and new. Chrome bars curve over the wheels, appearing like a cross between a Harley Davidson and an anomalous Victorian bicycle with futuristic Art Deco influences.

On the walls is the accompanying advertising poster campaign, glossy and red with cheesy advertising slogans boasting the advantages of the cyclo, the exciting new models and quotes from the drivers. These posters would have been more effective if they had been printed much larger and there were fewer of them, but nevertheless they convey the idea of a full-scale ad campaign.

The new cyclo prototypes are also a distortion of actual reality, as Nguyen-Hatsushiba points out that different cyclo designs actually develop organically.

"Cyclo variations do not progress in any way that can be pointed out as being specifically developed as a new style," he says, explaining that differences are based on geography and changes in the economy. The recent economic upturn has had an effect on the design: Older rusty models have been refurbished into "light-reflecting shiny cyclos."

"The new cyclo for this show can be compared to a new model of a car for the year 2001," notes Nguyen-Hatsushiba. "Automobile makers spend a great deal of time in research to develop their new line of cars and to produce a product that they hope will satisfy the consumers."

He projects a new commercial industry, with the cyclo elevated to the same commodity status as cars or motorcycles, which are redesigned every season (at great cost to the environment).

Nguyen-Hatsushiba adds that his intention in designing the new models is to attempt to break new ground in the history of cyclo making as well as to simulate a new alternative in the direction of the cyclo drivers lives.

It's not such a wildly unrealistic alternative either, if it is possible to imagine a Vietnam with a unique set of far-thinking politicians who take note of the inner-city transportation problems of neighboring Asian cities such as Bangkok. These politicians would value their history, their cities and their humble cyclo drivers. Instead of banning cyclos, this unique non-polluting transportation industry would be fostered, a viable supplement to a sophisticated rapid-rail system as all inner-city cars are phased out.

As anyone in Tokyo or London will tell you, bicycles are faster than cars in the inner city anyway, and as carless days in Rome and Paris attest, the citizens are much happier without them.

The only rub to this alternative is the possibility of that set of far-thinking politicians ever existing.