I've Never Seen My Father Cry

My project explores my father’s return to the Congo after a 46-year absence, examining the layers of memory that shape his identity and, through him, a broader collective history. 

This journey is a clash between the past and the present, between frozen memories and a constantly changing reality. His memory of the country is frozen in a child’s mind—a preserved, intact image of the past. But time has transformed the landscape, and this stark contrast has made his return nearly impossible. 

through a photographic approach that blends landscapes, portraits, and traces of everyday life, I seek to make the layers of time visible: how do memories become embedded in a body, in a territory, in a city that has changed in one’s absence? How is the experience of exile rewritten upon encountering one’s place of origin? 

This work is fully rooted in the theme of physical and mental geographies. The Congo is not merely a physical space; it is also a mental territory shaped by decades of isolation. Memory, like the earth, is in perpetual motion: it shifts, reshapes itself, and sometimes fades away to make room for other layers. By incorporating narrative elements and a sensitive approach to the flow of memories, this project reveals the malleability of memory—both individual (my father’s, and by extension, my own) and collective (that of diasporas, exiles, and impossible or delayed returns). Exile and return are universal experiences. This work is not limited to my father’s story; it resonates with the stories of all those who have had to leave their country and who, upon returning, discover a place that is both familiar and foreign.