Q&A: Design and Diaspora with Multi-disciplinary Artist Sama Beydoun
Born in Beirut and now based in Paris, multi-disciplinary artist Sama Beydoun talks to Nada Naya Nemer about design, diaspora and her dedication to the city of Beirut.
First image in a series of 10 in Beydoun’s signature style. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2024.
NN: How did you get into art, photography and graphic design, and what makes you want to work across different mediums?
SB: Today I refer to myself as a multi-disciplinary artist because I like to touch on a bunch of things. So, by trade, I say that I’m a creative director, which means I create a project from A-Z, working across graphic design and art direction. I look a lot to culture, so my projects are often centred around different themes like theatre, fashion, and music and there’s often collaboration involved with other artists and designers which gives me a lot of freedom in terms of what I can do or expect from my collaborators. For me, my artistic practice started with photography which I used to do completely on the side - I’m self-taught and I’ve been photographing for over 10 years now - and it developed in parallel to my graphic design practice. Right now, my work has expanded into a lot of different things, namely illustration and painting, but I feel that it’s still very anchored in the fact that I’m a graphic designer. So, I feel like it shows in my photography or my painting the fact that I come from that type of practice. I live in Paris now which hasn’t changed what I do a lot; I still kind of do the same thing, but I change the medium that I’m working in. I still work with the idea of and about Lebanon, but now there are other themes involved now that I’m in Europe. The narrative is more centred around Lebanon in the wider world, so it’s all these trans-Mediterranean, cross-cultural, diasporic movements that I’m thinking about now too.
NN: So you said that you’re self-taught, but why did you choose photography. What made you want to pick up a camera and then kept you drawn to that medium?
SB: My mother is a journalist, and a lot of what I do comes from her. She used to always have a camera in her hands, so the presence of a camera wasn’t foreign to me at all. I think also my activism or strong personality also comes from her, so it’s not really a coincidence or a surprise that I’m here doing what I’m doing. The superficial ‘why’ for picking up a camera is because I have a very bad memory, so I think that having a camera developed a way for me to make a mark or keep a trace of my ideas. I have sketchbooks filled with different ways of documenting, so drawing, writing, photographing, transcribing, scrapbooking… but I think it became a bit obsessive, so that’s one way that a camera helped me on a surface level. Now I’ve realised that this isn’t necessarily the main reason why I was drawn to photography. I think that on a more personal and deeper level, and in the wider context, growing up in Lebanon, a country that has never properly had its history written is a big reason why I chose to photograph. When you’d go to school, the history book would end with the Lebanese Independence and the French mandate; after that, it was ‘poof’ nothing. I guess I was curious about the fact that whenever I had a question there was either no answer or too many different ones. I also think I became interested in this idea of multitude or an alter-reality, the idea that if someone else has a completely different point of view to mine, what can I use to be able to look and discover their perception? In that way, my work and I are very much influenced by my context.
NN: In what you’re saying and evidently by looking at your work, it’s very obvious that there’s a clear attachment to Lebanon, which I feel is universal amongst Lebanese people and in general Arabs from different backgrounds who live in the diaspora. For you and in your work, it’s very apparent and a core theme that your practice centres around. Since moving to Paris, how has the change in your environment and surroundings impacted the way that you creatively document Lebanon? Did your artistic perception and relationship to Beirut change in any way, particularly since you’re now exploring and becoming familiar with the idea of diaspora?
SB: I do belong to the diaspora now, but I’ve only been in Paris for around three years, so I don’t identify as a diasporic kid because I came here when around my 24th birthday, so for the majority of my life I was in Lebanon. I did leave because of the situation in Beirut, and what changed in my practice is that before I used to be very reactionary to everything that surrounded me. If we’re talking about it in the sense of the medium, a photograph is an instant capture of what’s happening, and a sketch is an immortalised version of an immediate moment, and I think that’s very true of the nature of growing up in a city that moves all the time and is really restless. It’s important to mention that this movement doesn’t always lead somewhere, so you feel like you’re always moving but you never get anywhere, and I think the work I used to do was very true to that feeling. Today I have the luxury of taking a bit more distance, and creating work that is less reactionary and more reflective. It does take a bit more time to come to life, kind of like it’s cooking on a low heat, or being made on a low fire kind of thing.
NN: Your works do feel like a continuation of each other though, so there’s obviously still a similar connection and relationship to Beirut that you had before. I mean, your Instagram handle is @sama.beirut too!
Sama Beydoun in Beirut. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2020.
SB: My handle comes from the fact that, obviously, my name is Sama and growing up in Beirut everyone would joke about ‘Sama Beirut’ which is a horrible skyscraper in the middle of the city, so everyone’s joke when they met me was ‘haha is your name Sama Beirut’. At some point I decided to just embrace it, and the handle was more of a funny thing rather than a nostalgic one, but now I’m not going to change it, it’s kind of a part of me.
NN: I had no idea, I’m going to have to google it afterwards. I thought it was some kind of declaration, like ‘I am Sama from Beirut’.
NN: I had no idea, I’m going to have to google it afterwards. I thought it was some kind of declaration, like ‘I am Sama from Beirut’.
SB: Everyone in Beirut knows it because it’s super ugly, but no I’m not patriotic in that sense. I love my city but I’m not the type to be all glorifying.
NN: On the topic of patriotism, you mentioned earlier an activist side and that comes from your mum. I suppose the way you’re describing your work in terms of it being reactionary at first is kind of a journalistic approach. Can you tell me a bit more about that, and if this approach influences you today?
SB: Of course I think that I do identify with the word activism. Today, I believe that especially in the struggle that we’re in, I don’t think that the very fast hit and run approach is the type that is necessary because, unfortunately, it's been 170 days in the case of Palestine and 75 years. It has also been a lot of years in the case of Lebanon and its corruption, so I feel like in our countries we need to have a marathon pace rather than a sprint. The way I see it is, if each person did something in their own practice – I don’t want to say the world would be a better place – but if the teacher teaches, the librarian offers the right books and the designer works with the right people, for me, it’s all about a community approach. I’m not saying I’m an activist in the sense that I’m rallying, but I just help in whichever way that I can as a designer. I’m either creating content, raising my voice, or creating merch for raising funds. Without saying that I’m moving mountains because it’s a collective liberation, but I’m just an outspoken person today and I don’t compromise on values.
NN: I completely understand what you’re saying. I suppose with my work as well I have a similar approach. By speaking to people from different walks of life, but with a similar connection to Arab heritage, I have a way for me to share stories and highlight different people’s experiences. At the same time, being born into the diaspora you don’t really know where to place yourself, so you have to find your own points of reference as to what it means to be Arab. From speaking to people, you also kind of learn about that and start to understand where to place yourself, also by sharing your personal experiences with other people. I think because of that, I can also understand what you’re saying; if everyone plays their part and educates themselves, there will be a domino effect in the wider political and social context.
SB: Of course. There is a place for the diaspora, there’s a place for the underground communities, there is a place for everyone. I feel like what we can do from the outside is share the privilege of being outside already, and use our resources not for taking, but creating space. That’s important rather than saying ‘ooh here I am’ and instead, sharing the multiplicities of being Arab in the diaspora and your experience, because your story isn’t less valuable than someone else’s, it’s just the one that can help to give a voice.
Project titled “Ma 7ada Merta7” (no one is happy) presented at La Maison Des Arts in Brussels. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2024.
Sketch using Arabic and English. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2023.
NN: It's an interesting time to be Arab really, seeing how people situate themselves in different contexts to the backdrop of what’s happening. In terms of your work though, how did you develop your aesthetic of the bold lines that you use and the colours? Particularly with your project on revolution posters which shows a lot of what we’ve been talking about.
SB: It’s funny because when people mention that I have an aesthetic, I feel like I don’t really know what they’re talking about because I don’t really do it on purpose. I don’t feel like I have a style, but some people tell me they can recognise me, and I’m like ‘wow’. I feel like with boldness, bold lines, and typography, generally I have a very strong emphasis on these things, but with the Arabic in particular, I feel like the boldness comes from the need to create modern shapes and letters, coming from the fact that there’s traditional Arabic calligraphy that looks amazing. But maybe as young people they could relate less to it, so I think there’s something about reappropriating the shapes and the letters, using my humble knowledge to try to rethink or propose something that is younger looking and a bit innovative. I think we’re very lucky to be born now in that sense, because we are the generation that is doing something new and – I’m going to get nerdy now – but the digitalisation of Arabic letters came later than that of Latin letters, which means that the shift from calligraphy to typography also came later. It was bad at first and only got good, I would say, with the generation before mine, so my teachers were the people who were developing that. I feel there’s still room for exploration and experimentation, but with Latin letters, it’s a bit more saturated. With colours also I don’t know, I never really thought that I did colourful work until I looked at my studio and was like ‘ah actually, maybe I do’, so it’s not on purpose!
NN: I would agree with whoever told you that you have a recognisable aesthetic. So, obviously Beirut Street Museum is your standout project and what you’re best known for. Can you talk a little bit about it and how it came about?
SB: Beirut Street Museum was my graduate project, and it’s like my baby because it’s something that’s alive and keeps changing. I started it five years ago with the idea of a plastic chair. I was interested in the idea of how the plastic chair is used inside house to sit on, and then when it’s in the street in Lebanon everyone seems to understand that it means you can’t park in that place. From that, I became interested in how the city of Beirut seems to create solutions for itself, and its unspoken rules that everyone seems to know. Like if there’s a policeman, you’ll probably argue with him, but if there’s a chair you seem to understand that you shouldn’t move it. I started collecting all of those instances similar to the use of the chair; for example, is if there’s a tyre and you stick a pole in it, that could become a scarecrow. I was looking at these things as if they were the most magnificent pieces of art, because it’s super creative and it’s made with materials that are local and seemingly not valuable to the point that people don’t notice them and they become invisible in the street. I thought ‘wait, what if we look at these things in a different way and we celebrate them for what they do’, because technically they do point out an official thing. For example, the government couldn’t find a solution for us and as a civilian, I needed to find a solution for it. Maybe one example wasn’t interesting, but as a soon as I collected loads more, they became a collection of ideas. I thought, ‘why can’t it become like a museum’, so let’s rethink what a museum does, where it can be, how it can be open in the street and accessible to everyone. At first it was a graphic design project and then I rewrote the idea after publishing it in an architectural conference. Today I’m still thinking about how it can become an art project, so that’s what I’m working towards now and I’m still super fond of it.
NN: So now that you’re carrying on with the Beirut Street Museum, how do you think you’ll continue with it? Would you say that your aesthetic is pretty settled, or do you think it’s an ever-changing thing?
SB: I hope it keeps evolving. I hope that in ten years I don’t look back and I’m still doing the same thing, that’s how I see it. Again, I don’t feel like style is something I aim for, it’s something that serves the purpose of the moment – so a very design school idea, in that form follows function – and today what I’m doing works for now but tomorrow maybe I’ll need different tools and other ways of seeing. So, my design will change, and I will change, and we’ll all move forward.
NN: How about the medium you work in? Do you think it will change too?
SB: I hope so, I’m not attached to it. Currently, I’m photographing a bit less than I used to, and I’m also not sad about that. Right now my mind and hands need another way of expressing my ideas. Maybe later I’ll go back to photography, or maybe it will even turn into more film and video. Right now I’m painting a lot, so I don’t really mind change.
A set of 8 postcards titled “Postcards from Beirut”. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2024.
Limited edition riso-print that was sold at Point Éphémère in March, 2023. Image courtesy of @sama.beirut on Instagram, 2023.