The Interview
What inspired you to pursue a career in design?
For me, pursuing a career in design was never a rational decision, it was something instinctive, almost inevitable. I grew up surrounded by the scent of jasmine in Ashrafieh, the layers of Beirut’s architecture, and the poetry hidden in its ruins. Objects, materials, and spaces always carried emotions for me. They were more than functional things they were memories, fragments of stories, silent witnesses. I was also shaped by the world of couture. My paternal grandparents were couturiers for both men and women, and their atelier was my first universe of colors, fabrics, textures, and precision. I grew up touching silks, wool, brocades learning how material can drape, express, seduce, or protect. That sensitivity to texture naturally extended into the spaces around me. Our home, with its colorful terrazzo and patterned tiles, awakened my fascination for interior architecture, ornamentation, and the dialogue between structure and decoration. This blend of craft, materiality, and emotional memory led me to study interior architecture and ornamental design, fields that allowed me to merge intuition with technique. From there, the step toward creating objects felt organic. Designing furniture and collectible pieces became a way to unite everything that formed me: the artisanal heritage I witnessed, the emotional power of materials, and the storytelling nature of spaces. In the end, I didn’t choose design it unfolded from everything and everyone that shaped me. It became the natural extension of my memories, my roots, and my instinct to turn emotions into tangible, timeless forms.
What is your design philosophy or approach to creative problem-solving?
Our work is rooted more in collectible design and sculptural expression than in problem-solving. Our philosophy is to honor craft, cherish materiality, and preserve the hands and know-how behind every piece. We design to celebrate artisanship, to highlight the emotional power of materials, and to create objects that carry stories not just functions. For us, the “solution” is always to respect the craft and the hands shaping it, elevate the material, and let the piece embody the beauty of human skill and cultural memory.
How do you stay inspired and continue to evolve your creative practice?
As my practice naturally unfolds along two parallel paths, this duality keeps me inspired. One is deeply rooted in Beirut as a muse, its nostalgia, its ruins, its fragility and resilience. The city constantly feeds me with memories, textures, scents, and stories that I translate into emotional, sculptural objects. The other path is more provocative, exploring taboos in the region, questioning social norms, and bringing to light themes that are often silenced. This contrast between intimacy and provocation keeps my work alive, evolving, and honest. Moving between these two universes the poetic and the daring allows my practice to grow creatively. This contrast pushes me to stay close to artisans, to experiment constantly with materials, to observe the world with sensitivity, and to keep learning new crafts as part of my evolution. My sources of inspiration are woven naturally into this process, drawn from daily life, nature, people, culture, and the courage to explore subjects that aren’t always comfortable but are always real.
What are the biggest challenges facing designers in the MENASA region today?
One of the major challenges for designers in the MENA region is the lack of real investment and institutional support. Many of us carry the full financial weight of prototyping, producing, and showcasing our work, with very few grants, sponsors, or long-term programs to sustain a growing practice. Another challenge is the rhythm of the global design calendar. While the rise of design fairs and events in the region is positive and gives visibility, it also creates extreme pressure. Collections no longer have the time to breathe, mature, or travel naturally. Designers are expected to produce constantly, sometimes pay for shipping and sure exhibition costs, and move from one event to another almost every month. This pace becomes limiting because it sidelines many independent designers not everyone can afford to keep up with this demanding cycle, and valuable voices risk remaining unseen. Between limited funding, the pressure to produce quickly, and the lack of structured support systems, designers often struggle to protect the integrity of their work. Yet, this also reveals the resilience and dedication of the region’s creative community, designers who continue to innovate despite the challenges, driven by passion, craft, and cultural identity.
