Beirut’s Hybrid Chaos

During the 6th edition of Beirut Design Week, Rana Salam challenged both local and international visitors when she chose to answer the curators’ rhetorical question: Is Design a Need? by displaying trolleys made by street kids in Beirut for garbage collection and the recycling of goods. Those trolleys are the working tools that enable them to survive; many of these children are part of the community of 1.5 million Syrian war refugees (of a total of 7.7 million inhabitants in Lebanon). Respect!

“These unprivileged kids live a hard life, and Salam rented their survival tools to display them on stage. Designers should be aware of the ethical line and where it gets crossed”, was the feedback she received from one visitor to her exhibition Exploring Street Design. Salam explains that she compensated the kids as well as deliberately giving them recognition as designers. “In Beirut, we all know that these kids are there and still we never notice them; we also don’t recognise their talent until their work is on stage. The vehicles we put in the spotlight are beautiful and useful, and those kids have a genuine approach to design! Is design a need? For these kids, it clearly is. That’s the message I wanted to share, and the controversy proves my message was received.”

Salam also emphasises that this was a not-to-be-missed opportunity to challenge the established local design scene to fundamentally reflect on what they do, and to discuss what design should be. “Especially in our troublesome times, it’s necessary to analyse and rethink our role as designers. A part of the design scene in Lebanon produces otiose bling products for the happy few – those designers have forgotten that they should be resolving problems instead of indulging their inflated egos in glamour and coolness!” says Salam, who used to live and work in London in the ‘design bubble’ inhabited by exactly these kinds of happy few.

With the Lebanese Civil War (1975-1990) going on, the idea was that she would temporarily relocate to London to study, first at Central Saint Martins and then at the Royal College of Art. In the end, she stayed for 28 years. Returning to her home city, she discovered that Beirut had changed dramatically. “The scars of the war were still visible, but what a bursting energy! While I was away, the creative scene had developed at full speed. I found a Beirut where things were really happening”, she says. Salam connected to the city again and to the shaabi (popular culture) she had explored by scooter as a teenager and which once more became an important source of inspiration for her work as a graphic designer. As a teacher, she made it her mission to get the young Lebanese to fall in love with their own culture and their own city. “Because, you know, the grass is always greener on the other side...

Whereas I can compare and can assure the Lebanese that they really don’t have to be ashamed. It’s all happening here now and it’s exciting! Of course London is still wonderful and will always be, but for me it became too predictable and overly organised. The hybrid chaos of Beirut is far more inspiring. It’s also here that I finally realised who the real designers are: all these people who come up with elegant, beautiful, functional, and innovative solutions for daily life. Like the street kids.”

Salam recognises BDW as an important platform for discussing what design is all about in Beirut and worldwide. “It also lasts more than just a week – it’s a non stop, on-going process. However, during this single week we show our work all together. There is still a lot of work to be done, since only a few designers here understand that it’s really not about commercially showing-off and presenting cool products. It’s about dialogue and about the process. There is also a lack of support from the government for social or critical design. So we are only just beginning, and change will have to come from the grassroots. That’s why I think Lebanon needs design doctors, to facilitate the process. Let’s all wear white uniforms and propose some plastic surgery for the city, for the country! Can you see all these brands that are rotting away, that only need to have a facelift to make them more contemporary? I have chosen this metaphor because plastic surgery is a big thing in Lebanon. And as we all know, if you want people to understand the message, you need to start from what they know. So a Design Clinic would definitively speak their language...”

Rana Salam is also the author of a book on Syrian undergarments. “Before the war, I often used to visit Damascus. I spent a lot of time in the city and in the souks. Damascus was a bit like Cuba back then: it was forbidden to import goods from abroad so the local people designed their own stuff. Factories did everything, from design to production – the Syrians created their own designs using what was locally available. The result was ... interesting. I remember there being edible Nescafé- flavoured lingerie, for instance...! The Syrian government suppressed its citizens, so sex was an escape route. And creativity thrived! I started to collect that underwear and made a book about it: how people can create and design for survival. It became an instant hit. So, again, is design a need? Yes, I think so!”