I was introduced to Cary while working on my project ¡No hay más na’! , which I began in 2022. My portrait of this 65-year-old woman, her goose Axiuli and her cat Haytoo was taken at her home where Cary now lives with her animals. When I first met the cat, I asked why he was covered in dark patches. “Oh, he likes to sleep on the stove,” Cary replied, “and sometimes his fur catches fire, so I have to put it out.”
Cary, whose full name is Caridad Ribalta Oviedo, was born just weeks before the Cuban Revolution in 1959. She explained how her home was once the site of a laundry run by her family – Chinese immigrants from Guangzhou who settled in Cuba in the late 19th century. I was struck by her connection with her animals: as well as Axiuli and Haytoo, she has two dogs, Shimao and Tabey – all named in homage to her Chinese ancestors.
There were signs of a once-thriving business that existed before the revolution: art deco doors, neoclassical features and murals, and huge exposed iron beams where laundered clothes used to hang. Talking about her childhood, Cary said: “I remember playing here after dark and there would be strange noises. My siblings and I would hear people carrying buckets of water but when we looked there was no one there.”
It was only after taking the picture that I noticed other details: an empty egg carton balanced on a chair, an unfilled bottle of cooking oil, and decades-old children’s toys. Everyday items scattered among cherished family heirlooms, painting a picture of both the island’s rich and distinct cultural identity and the present day harsh realities.
Cary’s situation felt emblematic of the worsening crisis afflicting Cuba and its longsuffering population. Economic conditions have induced desperation and the mass migration of more than a million Cubans since the pandemic. Widespread shortages, power outages, and soaring inflation – exacerbated by policies from the previous Trump era – have made daily life increasingly difficult.
Trump’s second presidency threatens even tougher sanctions on Cuba, deepening the country’s socioeconomic crisis and further restricting migration options, with Trump also promising record deportations of illegal immigrants. As desperation grows, Cary’s story symbolises “la lucha” (the daily struggle) and the resilience of those who continue living on the island.
I’ve been visiting Cuba since 2004. I taught at the University of Havana for a year. When I first arrived there, I walked into a dark classroom during a blackout to find everyone dancing. I fell in love with the place. I had a romanticised image of Cuba, but the idea it is frozen in time is reductive. Over 20 years, I’ve tried to capture a place that is constantly evolving. Doing that in black and white for this series helped me get away from the distraction of Cuba’s iconic tropical pastel colours.
The title of my project is a local expression meaning: “There’s nothing left.” But it also means: “You have to stay strong and carry on.” In the past, people from marginalised communities often asked me for money. Lately, people have been pleading for food. There’s a growing sense of hopelessness and dreams are fading fast. Survival is the name of the game.
James Clifford Kent’s CV
Born: London, 1983
Trained: Studied English Literature, Latin American Studies and Visual Culture at Royal Holloway, University of London. PhD from University of London.
Influences: “Lately I’ve been looking at Mary Ellen Mark and Nan Goldin. I couldn’t survive without double espressos, music – from The Cure to jungle/drum’n’bass – and books. I just finished The Use of Photography by Annie Ernaux and Marc Marie, which I loved.”
High point: “For my project Maternity, I shadowed staff on a local NHS maternity unit where my daughter was born.”
Low point: “Witnessing Cuba’s worsening crisis. A recent four-day blackout has pushed those Cubans who remain to the brink.”
Top tip: “Embrace vulnerability to bring authenticity to your work. Support other creatives and emerging talent.”