Art photographer . film Director . Visual Artist


“La Sublimation”

    / L’ART DE  /

Tous les matins, je me réveille en colère et je ne sais pas pourquoi...

"Au fil du temps, objets, lieux ou personnages à travers lesquels
se forgent notre identité se dissipent, muant en souvenirs aux formes diaphanes. Le poids de leur sens, les frustrations ou fiertés engendrées s’enterrent lentement dans nos quotidiens,
aux portes de l’oubli.

Et la mémoire, engoncée dans ce quotidien perd le fil
si bien qu’on ne sait plus pourquoi on pleure, pourquoi on aime ou même pourquoi on vit. 

Mes photos veulent sublimer ces traumas qui font partie de nous
pour leur rendre toute leur altérité.
Prolonger ces instants cruels et bruts, les mémoriser en une scène, leur donner une place, les faire exister.
C’est un combat contre le temps, l’espace, et tous leurs éléments. 

Un dernier hommage avant le déluge des ans, avant l’oubli.
Je crée parce que j’essaie de me rappeler... De me rappeler pourquoi je suis en colère"
________________________________Prisca [LaFurie]

                  Moi à 7 ans avant le rituel capilaire qui a changé ma vie...


        photomontage & collage,
        pigment printing process. baryta paper

        photos-numbered (Limited Edition)

            « Mwana Mundele Suki Lala »

                    - The little white boy’s hair sleeps -
                       {in lingala, my mother tongue}  


french version︎

For many years, back in Kinshasa, I have said this same sentence while looking at the hair of my fellow European friends at school. «The little white boy’s hair sleeps» Smooth, malleable, when mine had to be tamed…

Straightening, plaiting, relaxing… :
The typical routine of most African women around the world. A habit so common and widespread, that I’ve always considered normal myself. Just as we had different clothes for different occasions, it was usual to change hairstyles for funerals, baptisms, weddings, births, birthdays or parties was usual. And it was so natural that it was going as far as changing the texture of the hair, its colour and nature on a regular basis. So was seeing my grandmother put on her wedding or funeral wig and hiding her beautiful hair under a synthetic apparel to assert even more her beauty.
All that to be « presentable » and comply with beauty standards that Africa has inherited from the occidental world. This ancient habit had appeared in the African continent under slavery and went on after colonialism. With hairpieces and wigs as their prerogatives, white people determined social rank and beauty standards. And as time passed, those aesthetic codes ended up crushing our own leaving room for an unattainable ideal. Long and smooth, coloured blond, brown, auburn or ginger… Anything but the curly, fuzzy, uncontrollable hair consciously or unconsciously rejected by African women.

And I was no exception.

It all began when I was 10. The age when feminine ideal requires all Congolese girls to relax their hair, like a rite of passage, the entry to the adult world. Despite the constraints and risk of loosing hair, this ceremonial came into my life, only to be questioned 20 years later. Giving up into laziness and tiredness,
I thought to myself: Why should I be a replica of white standards?
This psychological introspection, materialized through the banishment of the relaxer from my beauty routine and soon after, began a long struggle against my own perceptions.



From the «Your hair is untidy!» of anxious parents to the aggressive «Monkey!», an African waitress has once thrown at me…
I soon started to face the first judgments, the first remarks that were finally just the mirror of my own perception of beauty.
For I, was never even able to find beauty in my own fuzzy hair.

The path I was walking on did not seem peaceful.
On this very long, slow and hard path of self-acceptation, a strong desire to own my hair back arose. But history was and is still present, very much part of my life and my beauty routine.
Denying the existence of these habits is vain.

SUKI illustrates the struggles and the conflicts of this journey. By confronting each beauty standard with their origins, showing the techniques created to enslave Africa through hair, the photographic series reveal a new and emancipated Africa. That same Africa torn between today’s imposed culture, reappropriation of its own
and firm determination to build a future 

SUKI, like hair in lingala, SUKI because I am from Congo, SUKI as an antidote, an escape. My escape.

_ all rights reserved © 2018 paris - France _




Every morning I wake up with such fury! I don’t even know why...-“Can rage lead to salvation?”-

"Over time, Places or people who had an impact in our identity dissapear.
Buried in our everyday lives. Our memories, things, traditions we were once tought
to be proud of are forgotten.
However, certain traumas remain. Leading room for unexplained fustrations or anger.
Day after day, we forget... why we cry, why we love or even what we live for.

My depictions want to express the traumas that we inherited
that became part of our identities over the years and that we are continuously
brushing off. I want to bring them to life, give them a space,
respecting all forms of otherness. It’s a battle against time, space
and everything fading away.
One last tribute before it all falls into oblivion.
One last attempt to keep a memory of, a trace of -
I create because I am trying to remember... May be I will know why I am angry.
May be I’ll be free”  

- pardon my french -

________________________________Prisca [LaFurie]