Photography and text: Courtesy of the artist.

"Prisca is the first name that my mother gave me, Munkeni is my father’s name and Lafurie is the name I chose. The country that saw me born is not mine, the state that saw me grow up has disappeared and the nation in my passport hardly exists. Remaining my culture, to the memory weakened by the upheavals of history, and whose survival rests only on a handful people, an oral tradition whose breath is waning. Is this the breeding ground for my art?

This propensity want to frozen moments and dialogues. To prolong their existence ad infinitum, to force them to speak in an environment saturated with elements and lights. Over time, objects, places or characters through which our identity is forged dissipate, turning into memories with diaphanous shapes. The weight of their meaning,
frustrations or pride engender slowly in our daily newspapers, on the verge of oblivion. And the memory, stuck in this daily newspaper loses the thread: why we cry, why we love, why we live?

My photos want to extend these moments, to memorize in one scene
the story of these storytellers, touching up their universes to restore their otherness. A fight against time, space, and all their elements. A final tribute before the flood of years."