Not your martyr

On September 13, a multicoloured “migrating memorial” of ma’amoul – semolina-based cookies popular in Lebanon – will spill into the Victoria & Albert Museum. Artist Ramzi Mallat’s installation Not Your Martyr commemorates five years since the chemical explosion in Beirut that killed at least 218 people, and the biscuits (which are made out of brightly coloured glass) are both a tribute and a warning, capturing the sweetness of life interrupted by tragedy. In a country whose political instability has prevented the creation of commemorative monuments, Mallat’s minute sculptures stand as a testament to the strength of communities that continue to rebuild.

Interview by Matteo Pini

MP Why did you choose ma’amoul pastries as the central form within the work? And why did you choose glass as the main material to represent these pastries? 

RM When the explosion happened, I was in Beirut, not too far from the centre point. In the days that followed, we all went down and started cleaning, acting as a civil society because our government and our army weren’t going to do anything. It was up to us to help one another. Glass was the material that injured the most people in the blast, and during that time, there was a constant sound of glass being swept up. There became, for many months, a symphony of glass in the city. As I was driving in and out of the capital after every shift, I realised that for my own personal processing, I would create a memorial. We already live in a region where history is contested; there’s endless rivalry between the sects and the political factions. I wanted to think of what I could offer that wouldn’t play on those tensions. Ma’amoul is a pastry used in different celebratory events, in all different religious sects in Lebanon. Apparently, people used to actually carve their family initials into the ma’amoul moulds back when homes didn’t have ovens, so everyone knew which batch was theirs. After the blast, many of us couldn’t handle having glass or being near glass. The work plays on the fragility and violence of the material, which also echoes the fragility and vulnerability of the peace we have in our region.

MP You’ve called the work a countermonument. How do you see that concept as differing from a traditional memorial?

RM Firstly, it’s not state-sponsored: I’m creating it as an individual. It’s also quite intimate – the way it’s displayed is not monumental, and it doesn’t require you to look up. It’s interesting to have something that still recognises a specific time and a specific event while also being so minute in its form. I’ve described it as a migrating memorial because it’s something that can be reshaped in different settings. It can become a reflection of the diasporic communities that reflect the majority of Lebanese people at the moment.

Ramzi Mallat, Not Your Martyr (detail), 2023. Glass, 144 x 144 x 33 cm. Courtesy the artist.

Ramzi Mallat, Not Your Martyr, 2023. Glass, 144 x 144 x 33 cm. LDF 2025 at V&A South Kensington, London. Courtesy Peter Kelleher and the V&A South Kensington

MP The Levant is a region of contested history, where histories are often buried or rewritten by the sects that precede them. Do you see your work as filling a void left by the state’s failure to build official memorials in the aftermath of the explosion?

RM We don’t have a memorial for the Civil War either. The only memorial that we actually have is the Martyrs’ Monument downtown, created by an Italian sculptor, Marino Mazzacurati, to represent the Lebanese people. Now it is an emblem of our society, even though it represents a time that none of us really celebrate. To create a memorial, you have to understand what came before. Before that memorial, there was another one, The Weepers by Youssef Hoyek, of two women mourning the ashes of their loved ones. It was seen as too feminine to represent the country, and is now in a museum. If something sits in one specific location, it can then be criticised, scrutinised and even politicised for the benefit of one specific party. I wanted a memorial in an ephemeral space. Every person will continuously develop their memory in a biased manner, which will also affect how these events are remembered. I need that to be implemented into the work, so that it no longer represents just one event, but a larger loss and celebration together.

MP I’m intrigued by the title of the work, Not Your Martyr. What risks do you see in martyr culture?

RM I think there’s a fetishisation of martyr culture in our region. Martyr translates to “shuhadā”, which means a person who has seen something, who has witnessed something, and then has disappeared. A few days after the explosion, people were calling the victims martyrs, as if they had died for a specific reason – but they were in their homes or in the streets: they were not on the front lines of any battle. Discomfort is part of the grieving process, and it can help us achieve justice. Even now, no one is behind bars or has taken responsibility for what happened in Beirut. I wanted to counteract the collective amnesia that martyrdom allows.

MP How does exhibiting the work in an institution like the V&A, which carries its own imperial legacies and troubled histories, affect its meaning for you?

RM It empowers it, because it allows the work to be placed on a global stage. I’m happy that it was situated within the Renaissance and Medieval galleries, because that canon is very Eurocentric. It’s interesting to place Levantine heritage in the context of this solidified and tightly knit Eurocentric canon, to create porosity, a multiplicity of importances. From a more curatorial perspective, the Renaissance tried to represent reality as best as it could with all these art-making techniques. It's quite interesting to flip it on its head and have a more metaphorical memorial that represents reality. 

MP What do you hope that London audiences, potentially those with no direct connection to Beirut, take away from the piece?

RM I hope that it can be seen as an offering for solemn reflection, and a celebration of what we, as Lebanese individuals, are known for: our food. Lebanese cuisine is one of the top-tier exports of our culture. I don't want us to be seen only as victims, but as layered and multifaceted individuals from cultures that require visibility, rather than the erasure and destruction that is associated with the Levant. .

Ramzi Mallat, Not Your Martyr, 2023. Glass, 144 x 144 x 33 cm. Courtesy the artist