Bill Bensley On His Latest Collection Of Paintings, Inspired By The Majestic Red-Shanked Doucs

Even for those outside the sphere of design and architecture, the name Bill Bensley evokes snapshots of hotels with vibrant, maximalist architecture, enveloped in raw, tropical verdure. Since opening his first studio in Bangkok in 1989, the American-born architect has centred his work around sustainability, with each of his projects being given the utmost care and precision to leave its surroundings as undisturbed as possible. It has led to architecture built around trees and adapted to the pre-existing terrain.

Case in point: The InterContinental Danang Sun Peninsula Resort. In 2012, Bensley’s team were given carte blanche by the hotel’s owner, Vietnamese real estate developer Sun Group. It was Bensley’s biggest at the time, and led to his studio directing the entire design narrative of one of Central Vietnam’s biggest hotels, from signage to uniforms, culminating in a nature-led destination inspired by the themes of heaven, sky, sand, and sea.

Fourteen years later, Bensley returns to the hotel as part of the hotel’s inaugural Artisan Stories, a week-long event where Art Meets Gastronomy, bringing together acclaimed chefs and guest mixologists who themed new creations around Bensley’s latest collection of paintings, which were auctioned at the event.

Tell us about your exhibition here at the resort. 

The exhibition is called “We Are Still Here. Behave Accordingly.” It is about the animals of Son Tra, especially the red-shanked doucs, but it is not a polite little wildlife show. I wanted the animals to have presence, attitude, and a certain level of moral superiority, which, frankly, they deserve. These creatures are exquisite. They are absurdly beautiful, like they were dressed by a committee of French couturiers, Buddhist monks, and drag queens. But they are also vulnerable. Their forest is shrinking, their world is pressured, and, yet, they are still here, looking at us as if to say, “Well? What are you going to do about it?” My paintings are joyful, but they are not innocent. They use beauty as bait. You come close because the colours are delicious, and then, one hopes, you leave with a slightly larger conscience. That is always my intention: seduce first, lecture later, preferably not too much later.

How does your work and art tie into the world of gastronomy? 

For me, gastronomy is not just about what lands on the plate. It is about where you are sitting, what you are smelling, what the light is doing, whether the chair is comfortable, whether the room has soul, whether the story has begun before the first mouthful. A great restaurant is theatre, but it must never feel staged. The food, the landscape, the interiors, the uniforms, the garden, the music, the fire, the produce, the people; all of it should be pulling in the same direction. And if it is not delicious, of course, all the philosophy in the world can go directly into the compost heap.

What’s your most memorable project? 

If I must choose, I would say Shinta Mani Wild in Cambodia. It is not simply a hotel. It is a way of defending a valley. We built it in the Cardamom Rainforest on land that could very easily have become logging, mining or nonsense. Instead, it became a small, profitable, beautiful argument for conservation. Guests zipline into camp, sleep beside waterfalls, eat beautifully, and help fund real protection of the forest. That, to me, is the future of hospitality. Not just beds and breakfasts, but guardianship.

What’s the first thing you do in the morning? 

I open my eyes and try to remember which country I am in. Then, I usually look at the garden, check on the dogs, drink something sensible, and begin plotting. Morning is when the brain is least contaminated by other people’s emergencies. I love that hour before the world starts making demands. It is when the best ideas sneak in, usually badly dressed, but full of promise.

How do you find calm? 

I draw. Drawing is meditation for people who cannot sit still and hum politely. When I draw, the world becomes lines, shadows, proportions, and small decisions. It is wonderfully absorbing. Gardening does the same thing. So does walking through a forest. Nature has no interest in my inbox, which is one of its greatest qualities.

What is always worth paying for? 

Craftsmanship. A beautiful handmade thing carries time inside it. You can feel the hand, the patience, the small imperfections, the intelligence of the maker. That is worth paying for. Also: good shoes, proper lighting, excellent trees, and people who know what they are doing. Cheap is often very expensive in the end.

What is luxury to you? 

Luxury is space, silence, privacy, nature, and time. It is not marble by the acre or chandeliers behaving badly. Real luxury is waking up to birdsong, swimming in a clean river, eating food grown nearby, sleeping in a room with fresh air, and knowing that your pleasure has not damaged the place that gave it to you. Luxury should make you feel more alive, not merely more important.

What does success look like to you? 

Success is when beauty does some good. A hotel that protects a forest. A school that changes a young person’s life. A garden that brings back birds. A painting that makes someone care. A business that makes profit without becoming a pig. I am not interested in beauty as vanity. I am interested in beauty as a tool; a seductive, dangerous, useful tool, for making the world behave a little better. That, to me, is success.

Bill Bensley