Tewa Barnosa (LY) is an interdisciplinary artist and cultural producer based between Tripoli and Amsterdam, whose practice spans visual arts, time-based media, performance, and curatorial collaborations. Grounded in critical curiosity- and research-based knowledge reinterpretation and production, her work examines historical events and political contradictions with an interest in language and anti-colonial modes of communication. Barnosa recontextualizes images, sounds, objects, investigates war archives, Bedouin and Amazigh oral literature, fiction, and mythologies. She attempts to interweave fragments of evidence concerning human alienation and socio-ecological turbulence, intersecting with notions of contemporary warfare and the violations of cognitive and cultural means of resistance. 

In postwar Libya, normalized violence pervades daily life, eroding hope and stability. Ongoing wars and foreign interventions have deepened misery, replacing peace with chaos. This persistent insecurity stifles recovery, leaving a fractured society struggling to rebuild amid unending conflict and forgotten international promises. Yet, even in this harsh reality, the desire for dignity and self-expression persists. Graffiti in Tripoli is a form of speaking up for many. It appears on walls across the city; some pieces are political, criticizing militias, foreign powers, or past regimes. Others call for peace, justice, or freedom. In a place where open speech is risky, writings on walls provide people with a voice. In this landscape, artists like Tewa Barnosa play a vital role. Her work, especially Written To Not Remain, captures the struggle for voice and memory in a society marked by silence and fragmentation. Through bold artistic expression, she resists erasure, documents lived experience, and reclaims space for truth.

Written To Not Remain is based on a visual investigation looking into the acts of writing on the walls across post-revolution Libya. Built on a foundation of research, writing, photography, and 3D spatial scanning, the work unfolds as an immersive visual experience shaped by digital production tools. It explores the act of inscribing words on walls throughout Libya; each inscription marks a fleeting yet powerful trace of lived experience, public reflection, or protest. Some inscriptions confront the normalization of violence and the suffering caused by ongoing conflict and interventions. Others evoke unsettling images of war zones or reveal dark humor as a coping mechanism in the face of fear. Together, they form a quiet yet persistent language of resistance or an unspoken narrative etched into public spaces and embedded in the shared consciousness of a silenced society. In regimes where art is often seen as a threat, her practice is both defiant and hopeful, a reminder that even in the darkest times, creativity endures as a force of resistance and freedom.