Do you know what might actually be one of the biggest mistakes during long disconnecting weekends? Spending the entire day lying in bed watching series — or even worse, endlessly scrolling through Reels. Yes, this kind of rest is needed, but only in very limited doses and with the proper mix.

What do I mean exactly? A slow walk outside, a quick gym session, or even just 15 minutes spent reading something that actually feeds your brain instead of tiring it out even more.

I am here to suggest the latter. Today’s feature is simple, but genuinely worth your attention. Because honestly, what is better than discovering an artist who stays with you long after the scrolling ends?

So, here are three Algerian creatives to know.

One common thread linking many Algerian artists is this constant “between two worlds” feeling. Many of them either live in France while carrying Algerian roots, or grew up moving between both cultures. That tension runs through much of Kader Attia’s work too. Born in France to Algerian parents, he often explores what it means to exist between identities and cultural memories.

One of the central ideas within his practice is the concept of “repair”. But he isn't really talking about physically fixing objects. His work is more focused on the emotional, social, and cultural reconstruction that follows war, colonialism, violence, and the loss of identity.

A lot of this comes from the legacy of French colonialism in Algeria and the complicated feeling of growing up between Algeria and France. After more than 130 years under French rule, the war for independence left deep cultural and emotional scars that still shape many diaspora families living in France today.

One of his clearest works in this sense is The Repair from Occident to Extra-Occidental Cultures. In the installation, Attia placed African masks, statues, and everyday objects that had once been broken and carefully repaired by hand next to photographs of First World War soldiers who underwent reconstructive facial surgery after severe injuries.

The point was never simple shock value. He was trying to show that neither people nor cultures ever fully return to who they were before trauma. The scars stay. And sometimes, over time, they quietly become part of identity itself.

Yasser Ameur is one of those artists whose work you have probably already come across online — even if the name itself didn't immediately register. For years, he was known as L’Homme Jaune (“The Yellow Man”), later working under the name LASFAR. Today, he describes himself more as a fictional artist than a fixed artistic persona.

You would probably ask: why are we even spending time analysing all these names instead of simply looking at the artworks themselves? Well, honestly, in Ameur’s case, the different names almost explain the different layers of his work.

“The Yellow Man” came from the recurring yellow-skinned figures appearing throughout his art. They became his visual signature: exaggerated characters he uses as a symbolic figure of modern life — artificiality, overstimulation, and what he calls the “fake brightness” of digital culture.

The LASFAR chapter pushed him further into conversations around NFTs, internet culture, AI, and digital identity. Not in a blindly futuristic way, but more as an observation of how permanently online life slowly reshapes people psychologically — the endless performance, scrolling, visibility, and exhaustion that come with it.

And beneath all of that still sits the core of his work — Yasser Ameur himself and, with him, Algeria. Ameur constantly pulls everyday Algerian realities, political undertones, and cultural references into his surreal visual world.

You know how digital artists often go by one name online, only for you to later realise there is a completely different person behind it? Lokher is one of those cases. Though honestly, once you look at his work, the name starts making perfect sense. “Lokher” translates as “the other” or “different” — which feels strangely fitting for an artist whose entire visual world sits somewhere between reality and imagination.

That feeling of being slightly outside the ordinary seems to have followed him since childhood. At just five years old, one of his teachers already singled out his drawing talent. Today, Lokher naturally gravitates towards surrealism, building unreal worlds somewhere between internet culture, anime aesthetics, and fragments of everyday Algerian life.

Part of what makes his work interesting is how hard it is to fully place visually. Bright colours, layered compositions, chaotic details — his paintings almost feel like scrolling through an overstimulated internet brain. The longer you look, the more small references and strange details start revealing themselves.

But underneath all the colour and visual noise, there is also vulnerability. Lokher recently admitted that art can emotionally drain him as much as it feeds him creatively. And honestly, that openness quietly sits inside the work too.