Nov 14, 2009

بيروت | Beirut

Imagining Beirut


In The Dark

I was there. In the dark, surrounded by darkness. I was searching for myself. I found her in the dark. I saw nothing but myself in the dark. I asked her what she was doing there and she asked me to go away. I didn’t want to leave her alone. She was in pain; I didn’t want to leave her by herself. She was peeling her skin and crying in the dark. She wanted to find her heart. She wanted to hold her warm heart in her cold hands. She wanted to feel it beat in the palm of her hand. I helped her find her heart. But, she was heartless. She lost her heart in the dark long ago. I covered her with her skin and ripped out my heart and put it in her hands. She wasn’t alone. She had my heart. Now, I am heartless. My heart is with myself, in her cold palms, under her peeled skin. Now she will search no more. Now, she could rest in peace, in the dark.


I’m done sleeping. I’ve been sleeping my whole life. Between all those sweet dreams and frightening nightmares, I’ve missed my life. I open my eyes to see your face, frightened and vain at once. There you stand looking straight through me, like I don’t exist. I scream, I shout, and I slip into an ecstatic state of insanity, still, you can’t see me. I weep, I beg, and wear on a pathetic sorry mask of despair, and yet, you can’t see me. As I am falling apart into pieces of what I was, as I plead for your attention, you look right through me like I’m not even there. Am I there? Are you there? As I slowly slip into my psychosis and lose all control over my very being, I transcend into euphoria. And as I float out of my flesh and bones, I no longer see you. In fact, you never existed. I close my eyes and sleep on clouds, for years I continue to do so. I lose all touch of what is real and I leap into all that’s not. In a world where you don’t exist, in a dream where you can’t enter even if you tried, I’m there, sleeping on clouds, so high I can’t see where I came from. For years and years I slept, away from you, away from what I could remember as your warm hands on my face and your sweet words whispered in my ear. For years, all I felt were the clouds and all I could hear was the silence of the skies. I was not full. I was not complete. But I was free.

Feb 25, 2009

first year projects

Prosthesis. "the wing"
Materials used: aluminum sheet, Bicycle wheel, thread, elastic fabric
Exaggerated Action: the movement of my legs walking
Action translated into: the movement of the wing

Box For Living. "The Throne"
materials used: Stainless steel sheets and steel nails

Feb 19, 2009

STAMPS|li beirut, la beirut. music piracy map out.

> tracing the song "li beirut", i was able to map out the city and show a vivid social fabric that explores a distinctive stratification of need and power. from the entrepreneurial to the most vernacular, from the legal to the illegal; the series of stamps narrates the journey of a song dedicated to beirut, that explores a symphony of identities in beirut.

Feb 17, 2009

days of exile!

City of Obsessions

I am walking in a city. I see a crowd. They are imagining. They are obsessing about a city, or an idea of a city, no one knows what they are seeing. They are imagining. They are chanting and marching together. They are obsessing over a city they never visited, they can only imagine it.

I am walking in a city and I am tired of walking behind a crowd, I’m tired of searching for a city I don’t know, I want to stay where I was before, where I walk alone, behind no crowd.

I am walking in a city, behind the crowds I march, to find a truth, a reality, between all the fabrications and imaginations, I walk with no where to go, and nothing to do, except obsess with crowds and imagine cities…

I am walking in a city and I’m looking to belong, in a city I don’t know. I am looking for an identity in a city of crowds, and obsessions, and fetishes over a city that never belonged to anyone, not to you, not to me, not to anyone other than the memories that are suspended in time. To the million instances that come together to create a million cities. I’m still walking. Still imagining. Trying to belong. I’m left to obsess with the crowds over a city that will never be realized. I’m left to obsess with crowds over a city that will always be remembered.

Jan 31, 2009


DIARY ENTRY Summer 2006
When death arrives, you should stand with respect and silence. When death arrives, you hear nothing but the sharp silence that provokes you to stay still in time and watch with respect the power of the end. So I will say nothing and I will let the silence speak for it self. I came to Beirut 14 years ago. I remember how silent Beirut was, and I listened to it, saying nothing. I saw the destruction, the wounds of that city I grew to love. I heard the stories, I embraced the memories, and I slowly got sucked into the beauty of Beirut, with all its myths, fantasies, wounds, pain, and destruction. As I grew, Beirut grew with me, and I watched it grow just like it watched me. I watched it rise, and I watched it stumble, but I never thought that this day will arrive, the day I see the city I grew to love, the only city that I know, FALL. And so I stand, looking with eyes wide open, with respect and silence. As Beirut watched me hurt, I should now watch it hurt. And as Beirut felt my pain, I should feel its pain, and hear the sharp silence that broke any rational thought, and any beautiful memory I had of it. We will meet again... and  i am sorry I left you. I’m listening to your silence everyday, hearing it in my dreams and embracing it with every conscious hour of my day. I will come back to grow with you once again. But right now, I will stand still, and watch with respect and silence.