There is art housed and closed, somehow it stagnates in museums under cold lock and key. And then there is art right here, open and fresh and free. The art of the city embraces us. It tells us its narrative and the power of its youth. If these walls could speak, they’d tell you all about art and life in Beirut; whispered from spray cans.
The wise man, the cynical man, and the man in love share this in common; they all see the world in terms of infinite possibility. To survive in this new world, one must be witty and sarcastic. In a country where the political and judicial system would play a main role for any absurdist play, where politicians who once were sworn enemies, in a day’s coup become partners, the Lebanese confused can’t even agree to disagree when it comes to their own political standing. In this deafening cacophony of resonance of this political satire we live in, there is one person the Lebanese unanimously love, quote, and recite entire dialogues and songs of; Lebanon’s cynical genius, Ziad Rahbani.