Cecil Ka was born in the 70s. She divides her time living and working between Arles and Seville.

“What I see isn’t in front of me,

it’s in me.” C.K.

Is it because of the uncertainty of our being in the world that photographers work to bestow faces on what we can see?
Is it to calm the turmoil of existence that Ka places women (and men, occasionally) in front of the camera?

Women dressed in their luminous simplicity or in their most sumptuous festive attire.

The pictures have always been there. Bodies, faces, gazes have always revolved around her.

Ka’s need to record photographically was tragically triggered by the untimely death of her mother, a woman as brilliant
as she was loving.
From then on, Ka dived into photography, striving to capture the strength and presence of women, constructing a superb, universal work on matriarchy

- from Brooklyn to the streets of Seville, from Sundays in Arles to the barrios of Mexico City - where death and celebration seem to evolve hand in hand.

Ka sets up just before the party, when bodies are available and determined, their eyes looking into ours. The images come in pairs, speak to us in pairs, but are in fact threefold.


An interstitial image is formed in the gap, in the viewer’s head.


As a photographer of the visible and invisible
– of the in-between – Ka forsakes the question of the instant, in favor of the relationship between us, the viewers, and them, the pictures. Relocating the issues of the portrait
in the field of contemporary art, Cecil Ka connects the link between them and us, between the tradition of the genre and its posterity.


Impossible images, and yet within us. Portraits of the living and the departed. Presences in absence. Maternal ashes shining with tutelary constellations that will, maybe,
give us a new direction