The Beirut Center of Photography is always on the lookout for new talent. We are currently welcoming portfolio submissions from all photographers around the MENA region to promote on our Photographer’s directory. Our aim is to bring exposure to talented photographers and visual storytellers from all over the region.
Growing up, I was denied a very precious gift: enjoying the presence of my grandfather by my side. He fell sick, and although he could have made it, it was a hip fracture along with his sickness that took him away. I never really minded that until my grandmother fell sick, and I had to visit her often at my dad’s request. See, dad and I are accomplices, and I couldn’t have possibly refused him this. I’ve heard many stories about my grandfather, not the kind you’d like to hear or be proud of. But now-now I had the chance to hear the other side. I vowed myself to see my grandmother every Saturday, a word which I have kept for the past 4 years. I listened and listened, and the more I did, I realized I loved my grandfather so much, and that this bond goes beyond death or the physical world. I started loving him for all the times he was good, but also all the while he was bad. I yearned to talk to him, and I often spent my time gazing at the ceiling while I lay in my grandmother’s room, asking myself what would have it been like to have him around, to talk to him, for real, to see him wear his boots and ride his horse, hear his voice.
I found myself taking photos in black-and-white. I always saw the world from a different perspective. I lived it lone, peculiar, isolated. I found solace in black-and-white, in a memory that is here to stay, in a past that is at the grasp of my hand.
All of my work is a celebration of this emotion.
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