From furniture design to buildings, contemporary art to reimagined craft, a new generation of Tunis creatives – a vibrant mix of locals and expats – is forging a fresh visual identity for the nation.
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Many cities across the Middle East and North Africa have historically been regarded as leading cultural capitals, and are today seeing a resurgence of that same innovative energy. Among these places of creativity, Tunis isn’t a name one often hears – although it really should be. Following the revolution of 2011, Tunisia’s capital has witnessed a surge in creative expression and cultural activism. Its street-art scene began to thrive, independently funded spaces supporting contemporary artists opened up, and initiatives focused on bringing the arts into long-neglected neighbourhoods began to flourish.
The newfound energy is undeniable: from the historic Medina, where centuries- old residences are being respectfully converted into guesthouses, to downtown Tunis, where cultural spaces are supporting local communities. But despite the burgeoning talents working and creating within the city’s urban framework, Tunis has remained mostly under the radar. Many have attributed this to issues associated with a lack of government funding and poor infrastructure, which continue to pose challenges; yet they haven’t succeeded in stifling the city's profound evolution. The same resilience can be observed within its creative community: bold and politically conscious, community- driven and, in many cases, youth-led.
As a result, the work coming out of the country is unusually honest and unpolished, which isn’t the same as unrefined. Here, ideas and initiatives are layered, and as diverse as the talents themselves. Tunis may (for now) be the underdog, but this status keeps its creatives confidently future-facing and experimental. Yet they are also respectful of the country’s rich heritage. While creativity here is still finding its voice, it is doing so intentionally and with purpose. In the following pages, we introduce some of the artists, architects and designers who are shaping the city’s creative scene.
Must Read: Tunis – A City Guide for Design Lovers
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El Warcha
French architect Benjamin Perrot moved to Tunis in 2015 to work on a research project on public spaces, with a small grant from the Arts Council in the UK. “Quite early on, I had this idea of involving different parties in my work, and getting civil society and other artists involved in this question of urban life and public space,” he says. “I began working with different collectives to build temporary installations and activate abandoned spaces. When I came to Tunis, I was still quite interested in this [approach].” He started El Warcha (meaning “the workshop” in Arabic) in 2016 alongside other members, in the Hafsia neighbourhood of the Medina (the old town of Tunis).
El Warcha began as a collaborative design studio involving local residents of all ages in the creative process, from building lighting objects to planters and urban furniture. The idea was to look at alternative forms of education outside of traditional institutions, by exchanging knowledge and transforming learning into a collective act. “This idea of a workshop that would be open to the streets, where people could come together and build things and test them in public spaces, was interesting to the neighbourhood, especially to young people,” Perrot recalls. El Warcha quickly integrated itself into the life of the neighbourhood, helping residents to build using everyday materials and to understand craft techniques, eventually taking their workshops to other cities like London and Lisbon.
Four years ago, El Warcha moved its physical space to the coastal town of Le Kram, where it now focuses on producing live shows and the idea of “building performances”. The first event was a wooden boxing ring in the Hafsia square set up for a televised fake quiz show, where its members worked with the local boxing club and people from different neighbourhoods as well as artists. The group’s other shows have included a floating circus on a canal and a theatre on the beach, featuring a boat which it built, suspended six metres off the ground.
The studio’s latest project is a feminist football game in collaboration with a local choreographer and a Tunisian hip-hop artist named VIPA. “The challenge is how we get there as a group and achieve this big Hollywood fantasy that we want to create,” Perrot explains. “Everyone is a bit scared, and some people don’t know what they’re doing because they have no experience, but a lot of the outcome is the collective energy.” @el_warcha
Kaïs Dhifi
Using recycled-metal sheets, aluminium and automotive paints, artist Kaïs Dhifi creates modern-day artefacts that bridge the past and the future. His industrial aesthetic is softened by gentle carvings and other artisanal techniques that are sometimes symbolic, and at other times abstract. “My artistic practice is rooted in my Tunisian and Mediterranean heritage, where ancestral narratives and oral traditions weave into contemporary life,” he explains. “Drawing from this rich cultural tapestry, I investigate the connections between ancient knowledge and futuristic technologies, merging industrial aesthetics with archaeology and fantastical realism.”
While metal itself feels emblematic of his work, Dhifi doesn’t believe in being limited to it, always choosing to remain open to whatever comes to mind. “At first, the aluminum sheets I used were just printing waste from the offset plates of my photo books, destined for the trash. Over time, this became my material of choice; not only for its availability and remarkable properties, but also for its aesthetic qualities,” he says.
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Through his works, Dhifi has crafted a fictional universe called Metalia that amalgamates his multidisciplinary practice, which also includes public installations and photography. Via works that evoke both technological relics and sacred objects, he examines how artefacts – real and imagined – “shape our understanding of history by transposing them into Metalia”, he explains. “This process deepens my exploration of collective memory and its transformation, and extends my investigation into how civilisations document, preserve, reinterpret and share their narratives across time. I’m especially fascinated by cave art, ancient forms of universal expression that speak to us on a visceral level. In that same spirit, I like to create, conceal and reveal stories through my work.”
Dhifi's creative process is straightforward: each piece is created in a single, almost uninterrupted session, beginning with the cutting of thick aluminium sheets to build a frame. He then proceeds to free-sketch by hand, engraving and adding texture to thinner aluminium plates that have been previously recovered and cut, finally assembling everything in the frame like a canvas. “It’s a process that resembles drawing: the metal becomes the surface, and all my industrial tools are repurposed, combined or reinvented to offer a palette of lines, thicknesses, textures and nuances,” the artist says. “However, the process is nearly irreversible, every ‘mistake’ is recorded, and the final result relies entirely on reflective contrast. It’s light that plays the crucial role of revealer, bringing out both the beauty and the singularity of each piece.”
Dhifi cites his challenges in Tunis as “mostly material, but I’ve long believed that the grass isn’t greener. I prefer to focus on the positive, to look for solutions that keep me grounded and dynamic, and to adapt to my environment.” @kaisdhifi
Fares Dhifi
“My goal is to create pieces that tell a story, but which are also functional and accessible,” says Fares Dhifi. “I strive to blur the boundaries between art and design to bring deeper meaning to everyday objects.” With two master's degrees in design and visual arts from Tunis and Strasbourg, Dhifi’s creative output first developed through graffiti and drawing, which still finds a place in his design practice; from there, he has turned his hand to interior architecture and product design.
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“The desire to create singular pieces, combined with the structural limitations of the local market, led me to co-found a workshop in order to master every stage of the production process,” Dhifi explains. “The time I spend in the space, shared with my brother Kais, is devoted to the crucial stages of moulding, assembly, finishing and painting; it is where every detail comes to life and contributes to the uniqueness of each piece.”
Dhifi produces his works, including his popular Comme Une Fleur handcrafted table series and stainless-steel lighting sculptures, in Tunisia in collaboration with local artisans; each is hand-engraved with a unique poetic inscription. “The relationship to craftsmanship is central,” Dhifi says. “Every lamp is designed, punch-engraved and finished by hand by myself, with artisans contributing to the welding and polishing.”
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Since returning to Tunis in 2015, Dhifi has put Tunisian craftsmanship at the heart of his practice. “Working as an interior architect or designer in Tunis means navigating a context that is both uncertain and stimulating,” he explains. “It is precisely this instability that also gives the profession its unique charm: nothing is ever guaranteed, which pushes you to stay creative, adaptable and constantly finding alternatives to traditional methods of execution. There are few structures or institutions here that truly support creators, which often makes the effort very personal. But this constraint also opens the door to freer, more singular approaches. Working in Tunis means accepting its imperfections, but seeing it as a playground for experimentation.” @fares_dhifi
Ymen Berhouma
“I sometimes get asked if my art is really Tunisian, and I don’t understand what that means because if I am 100 per cent Tunisian, then surely my art is 100 per cent Tunisian,” says self-taught artist Ymen Berhouma. “We need more education around this, and to stop falling for an idea of what Tunisian art must be.”
Berhouma is critical of being expected to create a received idea of tradition in a place that has fast evolved, and whose art scene has developed a sense of expression and freedom, breaking its own barriers. “All I know is that I’ve been living in Tunis for the last 20 years, and I create my art here and feel free to do everything I want to do. For me, that’s what it means to be a Tunisian artist. The limit of aesthetics is no more.”
Berhouma likens her work to outsider art, a movement created by self-taught individuals outside of a traditional arts education. This distance from formal constraints often means the work is a reflection of one’s inner world, whether as a response to self or surrounding realities, which is true of Berhouma’s intuitive works. “I’m not an intellectual artist,” she explains. “Art comes from something else. It’s not about joy, and it’s not about troubles. It comes from a deep place within.”
Rather than having a formal direction, Berhouma’s work evolves organically and instinctively, operating almost as a mental release, creating its own forms and meanings through her paintings, collages (which are sometimes packed into small visual journals) and found objects. Her works usually depict human silhouettes, never detailed, but evocative. In her 2023 exhibition 3K900, Berhouma dwelt on the heaviness of an artist’s mental and spiritual burden, creating a world of contemporary mythology where figures like a sleeping child or a scorpion-woman were used as symbols for navigation.
Berhouma is equally dedicated to supporting young artists. The tiled walls of her Sidi Bou Saïd apartment showcase the works of these creatives, as do those of her studio, Atelier Y, where she holds informal exhibitions for emerging talents, blending disciplines from music to literature and painting. “Since the revolution, the number of young artists has exploded in the city and this new generation needs spaces to explore their craft,” she says. “I find it necessary to support that.” @atelierymen
Bardo Collections
While design galleries are few and far between in the Middle East and North Africa, Bardo Collections aims to bridge that gap. Launched in mid-2024, the gallery offers a curated range of artisan-crafted furniture, decor and art objects, all made in Tunisia. “While we have art galleries here in Tunisia, we also need a place for design pieces that can be unique to our projects,” says architect Chacha Atallah, who co-founded Bardo alongside gallerist Selma Feriani (it is located on the top floor of the Selma Feriani Gallery). “The idea came to me when I was thinking about working with an artist on a piece of furniture. It’s interesting that artists want to explore elements of design that aren’t just focused on comfort or functionality, and I liked the different approach.”
The gallery works on limited-edition pieces, inviting local and international designers, artists and architects to create collectible objects that are made with Tunisian artisans.
These include woodworkers from the coastal town of Nabeul, ceramicists and embroiderers, some with decades of lineage in their craft. “Our approach is to produce in Tunisia and promote and develop know-how in the fields of tapestry, ceramics, carpentry and leatherwork,” Atallah explains.
The gallery itself feels like a seaside home: brightly lit, its walls are decorated with frescoes by various artists. Vintage furniture, such as midcentury chairs, lamps, trays and carpets, dots the space, the selection including both European and regional pieces. The venue’s upcoming exhibition in September will feature ceramic works by eL Seed, terracotta frescoes by Tunisian artist Fares Thabet, recycled-plastic lighting by Thomas Egoumenides and limited-edition jewellery by Moroccan artist M’barek Bouhchichi. Inspired by Berber culture and desert caravans between Tunisia and Morocco, the latter is a journey that allows viewers to discover the craft techniques that unify the two places. @bardocollections
Selma Feriani
Selma Feriani was in London when the revolution in Tunisia erupted. “I was watching what was happening, and seeing images and videos of artists using the public space, which weren’t accessible before the revolution. And somehow, in what felt like a day, people were tagging walls, there were performances on the street. We had started witnessing public art in a very organic way, and I was very attracted by that. I thought to myself, ‘this is the flag of freedom. It’s time for contemporary artists to shine’.”
It took some time, but in 2017 Feriani returned to Tunis and opened her eponymous gallery in Sidi Bou Saïd: a former convent by the sea in the north of the city, which she refurbished while keeping elements of its traditional architecture intact. Spatially, it posed challenges for those used to working in a more traditional “white cube” , but Feriani deployed this to her advantage and worked with artists to create site-specific works. “After ten years, my artists had tried all possible options with the space, and at some point I felt it was becoming small and limiting.”
Feriani then commissioned Tunisian architect Chacha Atallah to design a new space in the industrial area of the city, which she created with the help of local artisans using traditional techniques. The well-insulated building has minimal openings, and is clad in a vernacular-style plaster finish – an eco-friendly cement-based render that has replaced traditional lime, a purposeful design choice aimed at responding to the drought-prone climate.
“It was the first time for both of us building a gallery from scratch, but I really wanted to work with Tunisians and local know-how,” Feriani says. “For me, it was very important to do this here, because I really wanted to give my country the best contemporary space it could have, and to show that it’s possible to create great things here. I wanted to cement the belief that a project can be 100 per cent Tunisian.”
Access was another important factor for Feriani, who has ensured that people can visit the gallery and use its resources, such as a bookshop and workspaces, for free. “The government is never involved in any cultural activities or in developing the art scene, so you learn to do it yourself, and that’s a good thing,” she asserts. “This is why I love the energy of our youth. They are fighters.” While the feeling of struggle is present, Feriani explains that it’s also an opportunity to shine while creating an interesting community on your own terms. “A gallery is a space with a voice. It’s what will remain in history, because artists are also writers of history and through their art they are telling our contemporary story.” @selmaferianigallery
Hassene Jeljeli
“Tunis is my testing ground,” says Hassene Jeljeli. “There is an incredible richness in what’s available locally that is often overlooked or undervalued. My work aims to reveal that richness – to elevate simple materials like Tunisian plywood and perforated steel, or to give new life to discarded materials like marble.”
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A professional architect and self-taught designer, Jeljeli’s family home has a basement workshop where he spent time observing his engineer father at work. Here, he began to understand the properties of different materials and imagined the functional solutions they could fulfil.
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Jeljeli’s latest collection, Mystic Lamps, which was exhibited at Salone Satellite during Milan Design Week, is a bold yet poetic fusion of perforated-steel sheets and translucent marble reclaimed from Tunisian stonecutters. The raw natural materials merge with sleek lines, creating objects that are both sculptural and functional. The collection pays tribute to traditional Tunisian craftsmanship and sacred geometry, while exploring the contrast between the lightness of metal and the density of marble. “My aim is to question our relationship with materiality and production, and the value we assign to things,” the designer explains. “Turning a humble material into a precious object or, on the other hand, making a noble material feel accessible, is part of my language.”
Jeljeli also draws inspiration from the city’s rhythm and spontaneous energy, ensuring that whatever he creates is in constant dialogue with its context. “There’s a wealth of local know- how here amonst Tunis creatives, interesting materials, and a certain spirit of ingenuity that I find energising,” he says. “But it’s also a limited environment, with challenges related to logistics, visibility and a lack of structure in the design sector. You have to be resilient, versatile and able to turn constraints into opportunities. So much remains to be done in Tunis, but this gives us a rare kind of freedom to invent our own rules.” @jeljelistudio
Must Read: These Groundbreaking Tunisian Artists Are Forging a Bold New Path
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Laurence Touitou
Laurence Touitou has lived many lives: as an architect, a crafts connoisseur, a culinary author, a TV presenter and a household name in French hip-hop circles. She first discovered the musical genre in New York in the 1980s, when she was working on an architectural project. The discovery completely changed her life and career, leading her to promote hip-hop in France as the head of record label Delabel, contributing to the careers of artists like Neneh Cherry and Massive Attack. In 2010, Touitou returned to her native Tunis, and reconnected with the long-lost love of her life: traditional craft.
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“I was walking the streets of Tunis and feeling my roots; it was a very mystical experience,” Touitou remembers. “I decided to come back here to live. I was at the end of many things in my career and I didn’t even know what I was going to do. But my passion has always been craft.” It was then that she started La Liste Tunisienne, a brand producing household items made by local artisans using traditional craft techniques and materials, from palm fibre to handwoven wool and sea rush; for the latter, Touitou has worked for over a decade with the same artisan in Nabeul, who weaves on a floor loom using straight, rigid fibres. Using this technique, they have created baskets, floor mats, placemats and table runners in various weaves and colours.
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Touitou’s mission is to inject more craft objects into modern homes across the country – a passion which has informed her work with the United Nations in Tunisia to support artisans all over the country, broadening their access beyond a limited economic market. While her Tunis showroom is based in the Phosphor creative district, Touitou has recently established a second space in Tokyo, where she works with an agent to promote Tunisian products and know-how.
“I love the similarity between the crafts and functional objects of the two countries,” Touitou explains of her new venture. “The purpose of La Liste Tunisienne is to work around useful objects and give them another direction within the home. I think there is now too much design in craft, and it’s not necessary, especially in Tunisia, where the patrimony is so vast and so rich because of all the historical influences we’ve had. So my job is not to influence too much – it is to give and to receive. Each day, I learn more about my country through its craft.” @lalistetunisienne
Marmo Spirito
French architect and designer Aurélia Bouyssonie founded Marmo Spirito as an extension of her love for marble, which she uses broadly across both interiors and product design. “I began by working with Carrara marble, but over time, I turned towards local Tunisian marbles, which are closer to stone,” she says. “I focus more on the specific gestures of marble work, and on emphasising the line, rather than on spectacular veining.”
Growing up in the coastal city of Sfax, Bouyssonie explored the city’s medina and the regional architecture of southern Tunisia. “I was profoundly influenced by the Borjs [traditional dwellings], these master houses with austere, minimalist lines, designed to endure and withstand extreme climatic conditions. Their functional simplicity and strength deeply inspired me.” These influences inform her monolithic designs. The Monument furniture collection, for example, is inspired by ancient architecture and is made entirely out of stone. The same uniformity can be seen in Bouyssonie’s interiors, such as her redesign of the renowned 1950s seaside restaurant Le Golfe in the coastal town of La Marsa. Here, she created a monochromatic, mono-material effect using stone and wood with generous proportions, imagining the bar as an eroded rock, with marble extending along the walls in a raw, unpolished texture.
Also Read: Design Duo Altin Is Presenting Tunisian Craft in New Light
Bouyssonie was among the first designers to join the Phosphor creative district on the outskirts of Tunis, and encouraged others to move there, too. “Gradually, the neighbourhood became richer and more dynamic,” she says. “I suggested that we organise a collective event where, twice a year, we open up our studios for the weekend. And it worked. More and more creatives were drawn to the area, and we’re happy to see it becoming a lively place of exchange and community. It’s incredibly moving – it uplifts us all. Each of us brings our own background, and together we have created a space that inspires young people.”
Among Bouyssonie’s hopes are to see greater international visibility for the city’s creative industries and a shift in attitudes towards Tunisian design. “It’s important that Tunisian design is not seen exclusively through the lens of traditional craftsmanship, but also through the creativity of the country's many talented individuals. Some of them choose to reinterpret their heritage, and others don’t – but they all go beyond being defined solely by cultural tradition.” @marmospirito
B7L9 Art Centre
Ahead of its opening in 2019, the B7L9 Art Centre described inequality, shrinkage of public spaces, migration attempts and unemployment as major issues facing Tunisian youth. While more initiatives have since been established, a lack of governmental funding has made it difficult to revitalise closed venues or kickstart new ones, leaving the responsibility to private cultural workers and organisations. The centre was started out of necessity, launched by the Kamel Lazaar Foundation as a response to the needs of the cultural community.
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“The centre started as a pilot in the disadvantaged area of Bhar Lazreg on the outskirts of Tunis,” says B7L9’s manager, Farouk Shabou. “The idea was to bring cultural activities to those who don’t have access to them. We started with artist residencies in 2019, but two years ago decided to change this to give more space to the community. We organise three to four contemporary art exhibitions per year. It’s quite difficult to bring people from this neighbourhood here, so we changed the first floor into studios for kids and teenagers to offer classes in music, theatre, dance and fine arts. The lessons are free; we’ve also started lessons in leadership and project manage- ment, and are trying to involve teenagers in our daily activities.”
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Since transforming from a largely agricultural area to an urbanised neighbourhood, Bhar Lazreg’s population has grown to over 50,000. “After the revolution, people started constructing here without authorisation, so we had an explosion of new buildings going up in the area. If you look at Google Maps, you probably still won’t find our building or all these other new constructions. But in the past two or three years, we’ve already started to see fancier real estate. It’s slowly getting gentrified.”
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The centre also works closely with the local community to offer jobs in fields such as security and catering, among others. Recent exhibitions have included the work of lesser-known Algerian artist Hamid Zénati, while currently on show is a photographic exhibition by Yemeni-Egyptian visual artist Yumna Al Arashi. “I think locals appreciate the dynamic of creatives coming in and building their studios or centres here,” says Shabou. B7L9 is now in the process of expanding, with a second Tunisian outpost in the works. @b7l9_tunis
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Chacha Atallah
Chacha Atallah studied in Paris and later co-founded her architecture practice there in 2005. In 2011, after returning to Tunis, she immediately immersed herself in the traditional building techniques of the country, collaborating with local artisans and builders and establishing close relationships with their families. “I’m very connected to my country,” she explains. “I always had this feeling of Tunisia being this source of inspiration and experimentation. We have simple construction methods here, as well as know-how and materials, and I wanted to integrate these into my architecture, but in a different way. It wasn’t just about using local materials or techniques – anyone can do that. The most important thing for me was how to use them, and how to transform through them.”
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Atallah spent some time in Japan, working at Shigeru Ban and Kengo Kuma’s studios, so it comes as no surprise that her approach to architecture centres on being conscious of one’s environment. “I think my generation of architects is more sensitive towards the environment and uses it as a source of inspiration,” she says. “I hope we all continue working more sustainably to create architecture that is harmonious with nature. And if we try to use more traditional methods in our work, then we are also contributing to keeping those techniques alive.”
In 2014, Atallah founded her furniture studio SLOW Edition, designing collections that combine traditional Tunisian craftsmanship with natural materials like marble (which is abundant in Tunisia) and wood (the country has a strong heritage in carpentry). “For me, designing furniture is like designing a building,” she explains. “It needs to be functional and modular, and I apply the same principles across all my work.” However, perhaps it is art that really ties Atallah’s practice together; this leaves its trace on everything, from her buildings to her furniture collections. “I love collaborating with artists,” she says. “I always try to invite artists to participate in my architecture: to draw, to create frescoes and sculptures. I think this dialogue is very important because artists tend to have fewer boundaries, and that helps to open up my own mind. I also think we’ve lost the idea of art in architecture. When you think back, early man painted his hand and placed it on the wall of the cave, so it’s unbelievable that now, the two disciplines are so separated. That is also the reason I work with artists, to bring back that integration.”
For a long time, L'École de Tunis – which emerged after Tunisia’s independence in 1956, and defined the artistic identity of the country – was regarded as the golden age of Tunisian art. Since then, says Atallah, “it felt like the arts scene in Tunisia has been asleep. But since the revolution, I can finally feel and see great art emerging in the country. Now, it is through art that the Tunisian people are trying to improve their environment.” @chacha_atallah_slowedition
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