The genesis of this work is a four-handed gesture. Before working with clay, I made real Algerian pastries called ghribia with my mother Baya. The recipe is oral, passed down in measures of containers. It was first necessary to witness a bodily memory of the gesture before being able to translate it, in a second stage, using another dough.

In ceramics, a piece that has undergone its first firing is called a biscuit. The semantic slippage between the biscuit/cookie shared within a family and the inedible ceramic object blurs the boundaries between two phases: what remains and what disappears when transmission is interrupted.

On the floor, barley couscous spread like sand — an ordinary yet symbolic food — is transformed into an imaginary landscape. The ghribia become archaeologies of the future, questioning cooking as a memorial and ritual practice.