The work kindly granted for the cover is: The Women of Algiers, Djamel Tatah, 1996, polyptych in oil and wax on canvas and wood, 350×450 cm. Les Abattoirs Museum Collection in Toulouse

In January 1992, the Islamic Salvation Front won the majority of seats in the second round of the parliamentary elections.Algeria was going through a period of socio-economic crisis and their victory was part of that context; however, as is well known, the electoral process was interrupted, the party outlawed and its militants prosecuted.

Soon afterwards, armed opposition movements formed, while security forces and paramilitary militias took control of the various regions. This marked the beginning of the so-called Black Decade, a period of terror for the whole of society: especially between 1993 and 1996, kidnappings, torture and murders were the order of the day, while journalists and opposition politicians suffered threats of all kinds.

And it was happening in a country rich in natural resources, particularly hydrocarbons, but heavily accused of corruption. As a result, public services collapsed, starting with hospitals, and access to healthcare became very difficult.

The birth of Le Linceul

When I made Le Linceul (The Shroud) it was 1999 and I was 20 years old. Even though I was not born there,Algeria was still my home country and the news of violence and murders affected me deeply. My way of producing art changed and I came up with the idea of a monochrome white flag that would be a national symbol and at the same time represent a personal space of memory, commemoration and reflection on what was happening.

All this was taking shape as I felt a certain bewilderment about my relationship with Algeria. I titled it so because that white evokes the shrouds of the victims of the civil war, especially since what we are talking about has been described as a ‘conflict without images’: visual documentation of the atrocities committed was and remains scarce.

The shades of white, therefore, represent theoxymoron of a silent cry, a presence in absence, a form of commemoration. The flag, in fact, is a surface that conceals and reveals at the same time: it symbolises wounds that have never fully healed.

Bureaucratic silence and family difficulties

For me, that period was also marked by family difficulties, especially concerning travel. Many of my relatives wanted to leave the country but could not obtain the necessary visas; an aunt of mine who was ill with cancer, for example, could not get to France for the medical treatment she needed.

Any communication or request remained unanswered and thus the general climate of fear was overlaid by a bureaucratic silence. This feeling of helplessness became a constant, if barely visible, pain for me.

Collective action against silence

Le Linceul was exhibited in a group exhibition in Ghent a few years later, but it was not my only initiative in response to those circumstances. I also organised non-violent demonstrative actions: for example, I would place blank sheets of paper on the ground and invite people to write their thoughts and memories, their fears, on them.

This collective gesture went far beyond the significance of the flag: it was intended to create an expressive space to counter the prevailing silence. As is well known, the archives of the period remain largely inaccessible, parliamentary commissions on the subject cannot be set up and investigative journalism encounters many obstacles. At the institutional level, many questions remain unanswered.

On the other hand, Algerian civil society still seeks democratic and progressive alternatives, especially following the demonstrations of the Hirak movement in 2019, which was followed by the ousting of President Abdelaziz Bouteflika.

Video installations and testimonies

Between 2001 and 2002, I presented video installations at theHigher National Institute of Fine Arts in Paris. On the monitors there were direct and indirect testimonies, including that of an Arte journalist, and of people who had suffered violence or the sudden disappearance of a relative.

There were also interviews with mothers who had suffered severe injustice and police raids. It was this general sense of uncertainty and loss, I think, that was one of the most difficult aspects to understand for those who had not had first-hand experience of that period.

My aim was to show the experiences of ordinary citizens as faithfully as possible. Those stories, in fact, gave an idea of the widespread brutality of those years, of theweakening of the rule of law and, more generally, of the difficulties in accessing social services.

Art, memory and public confrontation

I believe thatart can sometimes open up a space for confrontation. The works on the Black Decade, which are now numerous, help to make this period more visible, especially because they confront the issue with a certain frankness. Their existence contributes to the creation of a collective memory and, at the same time, challenges the silences that have long shrouded those events.

Debates and controversies on artistic memory

On the other hand, the enjoyment of these works is a complex matter. Some authors have been criticised negatively for the political-ideological content their statements seem to contain; others, especially those from the diaspora, have sometimes been considered partially unrelated.

The fact is thatart generates debate, but confronting the past does not necessarily produce consensus. Thework can elicit identification or a sense of distance, depending on whether the viewer feels represented by the proposed perspective, including the Western point of view.

In addition, the artistic discourse on conflict can be interpreted as a desire to widen rather than narrow distances, for instance when certain languages or aesthetic forms are perceived as strongly marked by Western references. In other cases, the beholder may simply prefer other forms of collective memory.

An artistic commitment beyond Algeria

As far as I am concerned, through my work as an artist I have tried to make visible individual and collective memories that official history sometimes struggles to acknowledge. My commitment to making them usable continues to this day and has gradually extended beyond the Algerian context.

Artist Profile

Halida Boughriet is aninterdisciplinary artist. Her works have been exhibited at the Berggruen Museum in Berlin and the Musée d’Art Contemporain du Val-de-Marne, among others.

He is currently participating in an exhibition at theHaus der Kulturen der Welt in Berlin with the project Tirailleurs: Trials and Tribulations – From Cannon Fodder to Avant-Garde
https://www.hkw.de/en/programme/tirailleurs

His publications include Pandora’s Box (2016) and Out of Place (2019), both published by Vanillaedizioni, and most recently Faits divers – A Hypothesis in 26 Letters (In Fine éditions d’art, 2024).

He lives and works between Paris and Marseille.