A Moroccan artist working between two inheritances — the craft traditions of the medina and the rational discipline of a French education. Out of that tension comes a single idea: heritage is not a relic to preserve, but a language to keep speaking.
— NICH
The studio works under two names. Tribaliste is the disciplined one — proportion, function and architectural mastery, commissioned by hospitality and interiors, from the Royal Mansour to private homes. NICH is the freer voice: intuition, emotion and abstraction, released from any brief.
The method is the same on both sides — take the inherited grammar of Amazigh weaving apart, then rebuild it until clarity emerges from the chaos. A carpet stops being decoration and becomes what it always was: a coded surface, a way of saying something that words cannot.
Every NICH piece is composed, dyed and tufted by hand, in the same room where it will first be seen. The artist works on the wall and on the floor — stepping back, cutting in — letting the geometry be decided as much by the hand as by the eye. Nothing leaves the studio that hasn't been lived with first.
Bare concrete, hand-painted beams, light moving across the floor. The studio is part workshop, part gallery — paintings lean against the walls, rugs are laid out and lifted to be read, and a long table holds the wool: hundreds of dyed samples, the raw vocabulary of every piece.
A rug is not decoration. It is a communication system.NICH, for Designeers Club
Painting, objects, a place built room by room — the textile works are one dialect of a larger language. The same questions about heritage, desire and communication run through the canvases on the studio walls, the space itself, and everything the studio is still imagining.
Carrying the circuit logic off the wall and into tile, steel and ceramic.
Four more series in progress — Blocks, Tiles, High and Patch — each a different reading of the same grammar.
A garment line in the studio's mind: clothing treated as purposeful communication, never mere decoration.