A DIY cultural renaissance

In cities like Algiers, Oran and Tizi Ouzou, a new generation of Algerian artists is forging alternative paths for culture through independent exhibitions, experimental music, visual arts, cinema and digital projects.

These new cultural dynamics have emerged from a unique socio-political context. In the wake of the 2019 Hirak movement and the COVID-19 pandemic, many artists face challenges due to a lack of funding and restrictions on freedom of expression. As a response, they rely heavily on social media to build their own audiences and promote their work.

Independent cinema as a critical alternative

Among the most prominent faces of independent Algerian cinema is director and producer Aissa Ben Said (41), founder of Nouvelle Vague Algérienne (Algerian New Wave), a production company dedicated to independent, critical cinema centred on social issues and youth perspectives. Since its founding in 2016, it has produced 14 films. Ben Said also founded the Souk Short Festival, the first short film festival in his hometown of Souk Ahras, in 2018.

Ben Said told Qantara that he "learned to create [his] own opportunities, to build strong production networks, and to work with the resources at hand without compromising on artistic quality."

His vision is reflected in the films he directs, such as "A Cry Without Echo" (2010), a film about marginalised musicians in Souk Ahras. His film "One Man, Two Theatres" (2016), on the relationship between art and freedom, was shown at international film festivals, marking a turning point in his career. The feature "Cilima" (2018) exemplifies his vision for a new Algerian wave, overcoming a lack of state support for emerging talent.

His mission, he says, is to "help young talents express themselves in a global language, with a profound Algerian touch." For Ben Said, independent Algerian cinema is "fertile ground—it just needs to be sown. There is a massive thirst for expression and creativity, and for devising novel ways to produce, storytell and distribute."

New spaces for the visual arts

In the realm of art, the Algiers-based Studio XBM stands out as an alternative space bringing together artists and independent cultural producers while hosting diverse youth-led projects. Sid Ali El Mohri (32), a visual artist and XBM member, describes himself as "obsessed" with communication. "Communication is pivotal to the human experience. So many problems can be avoided with a single honest word or a clear phrasing," he says.

El Mohri sees audiovisual art as a nuanced language capable of resonating deeply with viewers. To him, a video or image is not just a recording; it's a parallel reality that dwells in the mind of the viewer, continuing to exist independently from the artist who created it. "I'm an observer," he adds, explaining how his lens focuses on the details of urban life: buildings, cars, skies, reflections, and even the movements of people on the street.

He believes that the accumulation of these small details, and their interplay in the unconscious, is what shapes the identity of a city. As a result, El Mohri doesn't limit himself to capturing standalone images but compiles thematic series with clear and intentional messages.

In one of his projects, El Mohri documented the murals and tifos painted by football fans on the walls of Algiers—expressions he calls "honest symbols of identity and belonging." In another project, a web documentary about Algerian libraries, he portrayed each library as a living character reflecting society's relationship with reading.

El Mehri believes that the independent Algerian underground is more honest than mainstream "overground" culture, obsessed as it is with showy appearances. In graffiti, popular slogans and sayings, he sees what he calls the "raw truth—the voices of people putting themselves on the line, away from political, financial or religious agendas."

He concludes by saying that art can help heal society from historical and generational trauma, but he also criticises the local scene for lacking courage: "We need to dig deeper, ask more difficult questions and take greater risks."

Street art as a dialogue

The work of visual artist Merine Hadj Abdelrahman (33), known by his moniker la main du peuple ("The Hand of the People"), offers a striking example of street art's potential. Abdelrahman uses a striking, hybrid visual character: a deformed hand that embodies the tension between knowledge and oppression, and between ordinary people and structures of power.

To him, the hand is more than an image; it is a social symbol reflecting the contradictions of Algerian reality, where in theory everyone is subject to the same law, yet inequality and injustice persist. Abdelrahman observes people's behaviours and transforms them into visual discourse.

After his experience in contemporary art galleries, he decided in 2016 to take his art to the streets—finding in them a limitless space for expression, where every wall is a canvas and every interaction with passersby nourishes his visual persona. La main du peuple became a living dialogue with the public: it critiques, mocks and reflects society boldly and spontaneously.

Over time, Abdelrahman also connected with the underground electronic music scene, which he describes as a "niche" with an "organic" audience. There, he has found an educated, conscious young people seeking experimentation and quality away from consumer trends. His message is clear: "Work, patience, and perseverance. Recognition doesn't come fast, but what matters is to measure oneself against the world’s best."

Bringing Algeria's underground to the world

DJ FAËL started off as an audience member before stepping behind the decks to become one of the few female voices in Algeria's electronic underground. Her entry into the scene felt less like a conscious decision and more like a natural immersion. "Electronic music captivated me from the first moment. I felt I had found the language that truly expressed me," she says.

Her experiences in Paris, Berlin, and Amsterdam influenced her—not just musically, but also in the diverse artistic spaces she encountered. She was inspired to bring the same energy to Algeria—not by copying it, but by creating something local and reflective of its context. Performing in Algeria, to her, is a source of pride and belonging, while international gigs are an opportunity to demonstrate to the world that the Algerian scene exists and must be contended with.

She admits that the journey in Algeria is tough—there's a lack of infrastructure, technical means and institutional support. But for her, "The strength of the underground lies in this very lack—in its improvisation, its DIY spirit or 'bricolage', and its determination to keep going."

Regarding her choice to cover her face, FAËL clarifies that it's not due to conservative social pressure, but to preserve her privacy and maintain the focus on the music. As one of the few women in the field, which she says is both a challenge and a strength, she sees her own potential to be an inspiration for other women to join the scene.

FAËL aspires to build bridges between the local and international scenes and to open doors for collaboration, helping Algerian artists emerge from the shadows and join international cultural movements. She is optimistic: "The path is slowly opening up for a new generation with more freedom."

These initiatives reveal a kind of silent renaissance, led by independent artists striving to redefine culture as a tool for social and political critique, and as a space to build a new kind of freedom outside of traditional moulds. What we see today may well be the beginning of a long-term cultural transformation—one that reflects a shifting relationship between Algerian society, art and public space.