This is a story about my grandmother’s perception, the objects that surrounded her with which I grew up, her garden, her house in Normandy, her taste for fashion, and beautiful things that she passed on to me, and Africa… always Africa. My grandfather was from Togo but he died very young, yet she kept very close contacts with this African family year after year, she’s our only link with this black side that we can see on our skin and which seems so far from our native Normandy, France. All the styling are items found in her closet, the fabrics used for the images have been brought back by her from Ghana and Togo (Wax et Keta). Her expressions are distinguished, proud, and independent. —by photographer Léa Bartet-Friburg
