As Close As I Can Get To You

My practice centers around delving into my identity as a first-generation immigrant. Within this realm, countless intersections and narratives unfold. Over the past few years, my creative focus has revolved around recounting my journey of arriving here at the age of 9: the family and memories I left behind, the gradual distortion of my native languages as English asserted its dominance in my speech. I now find myself  being an observer within my indigenous culture. As part of my thesis, I have created moving images and stills reinterpreting the memories that remained with me. Taking small items and objects like an oil lamp, a water jug, a bag of rice and recontextualizing how much weight they now hold. Through this thesis, I grieve, I mourn, I acknowledge the space I now take up within my Congolese identity. But you must also remember, this is not a burial, this is a restoration.


How many shaved heads am I from Congo?

I hate and love the water, it

moving image still.

What if I am not the same Mathi you raised?

Me, Yaye, Jovani, Ya Davina

sodas came in glass bottles where I'm from

the thing we swept the ground with

I have become an accumulation of shame, remembrance, and pride

A Ma Mere Qui Me Regarde Avec Des Fleurs Dans Ses Yeux 

Le passé est désormais la seule chose que nous partageons en dehors du sang. J'espère que je suis le même Mathi que tu as élevé
The past is now the only thing we share outside of blood...

this is not a burial

this is not a burial

this is a restoration 

this is a restoration 

Je me souviens d'être allé au puits pour prendre de l'eau, je me souviens de la façon dont elle dégoulinait sur notre dos si nous marchions trop vite

...I remember how the water would drip on our backs if we walked too fast

L'eau est devenue un rappel constant de la proximité et de la distance qui me séparent de toi.

water has now become a constant reminder of how close and far I am from you

As Close As I Can Get To You

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