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THE MANY FACES OF BOURJ HAMMOUD
Matthew Mosley
The Daily Star
April 15 2010
Lebanon
BEIRUT: The tangled alleyways, the buildings, the characters, and
the distinctive cuisine of Bourj Hammoud exert a fascination for a
surprising cross-section of parties.
For academics and students, the quarter forms a distinctive world
within Lebanon's capital Beirut that is ripe for study, both
historically and sociologically.
The area has a special significance for Lebanese Armenians, since it
was the first place that Armenians settled in Lebanon after arriving
from Syria and Turkey.
Young hipsters love Bourj Hammoud for its bargain-hunting potential -
there are treasures to be unearthed in its tightly-packed shops.
"It's very authentic," says photographer Ariane Delacampagne. "Unlike
a lot of Beirut, it hasn't changed too much over the years. Bourj
Hammoud has retained its cachet - in some ways this is a good thing,
but it has downsides too."
The distinctive character of Bourj Hammoud, however, is increasingly
under threat. Its proximity to both central Beirut and the ocean
means that real-estate developers are increasingly eyeing the area
as a potential source of cash.
The area has already been eaten into: In recent years a new highway
bridge has bisected the area, ferrying traffic eastward from Achrafieh.
Over the past five years, Delacampagne has been taking photographs
in what might prove to be a vanishing world.
"I think it's important to have a record of this time," says
Delacampagne. "This is a part of our history."
Over the time, her project's focus has narrowed to become a series
of portraits of the inhabitants. A selection of her images was
revealed Wednesday at the Centre Culturel Francais under the title
"The Armenians of Bourj Hammoud."
In luminous black and white, Delacampagne's photographs offer a
warts-and-all portrayal of her subjects, at the same time placing
them on an aesthetic pedestal with elegant composition and the kind
of luxuriant chiaroscuro that monochrome photography does so well.
There is a disarming frankness to Delacampagne's photos that makes them
particularly compelling. Her subjects stare out with an utter lack of
self-consciousness, as though in mid-conversation with the spectator.
"I take time to build up a rapport with the person," says
Delacampagne. "It either happens or it doesn't, but if there's no
rapport then the shot won't be successful."
Some of Delacampagne's subjects are captured at work. A shoe-seller
grins genially from behind teetering mountains of boxes, a television
at his side. A carpet-weaver glances up mid-stitch, glaring at the
lens from under-hooded eyes. A lady proudly displays the priestly
vestments she has sewn.
Others are photographed in the home. Many of the subjects in the
selection are elderly women, propped up in bed by a mound of pillows
or perched on a chair with stick in hand.
Some of these characters are spectacularly aged. The skin hangs
from the bone in swags and deep creases mark the faces. Speaking
of a wealth of life experience, one could stare at these compelling
characters for hours.
This focus on the elderly wasn't part of the original project.
"I chose these particular images for aesthetic reasons," says
Delacampagne. "These were the ones that pleased me most. But I'm
conscious of a lack of younger subjects here and next time I want to
concentrate on the youth."
Delacampagne's project is ongoing. Ultimately, she plans to publish
a book of the images, but there are still many more facets of Bourj
Hammoud that she wants to capture. This is a project that thrives on
chance and spontaneity.
"I don't plan anything," says Delacampagne. "Every time I go to
Bourj Hammoud there's something new. The work is in a constant state
of flux."
Delacampagne is of Armenian heritage. She was born in Lebanon and still
has family here, but now divides her time between Paris and New York.
In some respects, Delacampagne's photographs of Bourj Hammoud seem
to be linked to an exploration of her own identity as an Armenian.
"[Turkey's] non-recognition of the Armenian genocide is something that
affects all of us," she says. "How do you live with that? Should you
just forget about it and carry on?
"My friends sometimes ask me whether this legacy is a stultifying
thing, whether it prevents me from going forward. But I don't think
like this. I don't think that this issue should prevent participation."
Delacampagne's photographs offer a glimpse of diverse lives, united
only by a geographical area and their shared Armenian heritage. They
are at once a preservation of a particular moment of Armenian history
and an exploration of the many ways of being an Armenian.
But her compelling photographs possess a wider aesthetic appeal. The
general fascination of Bourj Hammoud is likely to continue undimmed.
"The Armenians of Bourj Hammoud" continues until April 29. For more
details, call +961 1 420 200.
Matthew Mosley
The Daily Star
April 15 2010
Lebanon
BEIRUT: The tangled alleyways, the buildings, the characters, and
the distinctive cuisine of Bourj Hammoud exert a fascination for a
surprising cross-section of parties.
For academics and students, the quarter forms a distinctive world
within Lebanon's capital Beirut that is ripe for study, both
historically and sociologically.
The area has a special significance for Lebanese Armenians, since it
was the first place that Armenians settled in Lebanon after arriving
from Syria and Turkey.
Young hipsters love Bourj Hammoud for its bargain-hunting potential -
there are treasures to be unearthed in its tightly-packed shops.
"It's very authentic," says photographer Ariane Delacampagne. "Unlike
a lot of Beirut, it hasn't changed too much over the years. Bourj
Hammoud has retained its cachet - in some ways this is a good thing,
but it has downsides too."
The distinctive character of Bourj Hammoud, however, is increasingly
under threat. Its proximity to both central Beirut and the ocean
means that real-estate developers are increasingly eyeing the area
as a potential source of cash.
The area has already been eaten into: In recent years a new highway
bridge has bisected the area, ferrying traffic eastward from Achrafieh.
Over the past five years, Delacampagne has been taking photographs
in what might prove to be a vanishing world.
"I think it's important to have a record of this time," says
Delacampagne. "This is a part of our history."
Over the time, her project's focus has narrowed to become a series
of portraits of the inhabitants. A selection of her images was
revealed Wednesday at the Centre Culturel Francais under the title
"The Armenians of Bourj Hammoud."
In luminous black and white, Delacampagne's photographs offer a
warts-and-all portrayal of her subjects, at the same time placing
them on an aesthetic pedestal with elegant composition and the kind
of luxuriant chiaroscuro that monochrome photography does so well.
There is a disarming frankness to Delacampagne's photos that makes them
particularly compelling. Her subjects stare out with an utter lack of
self-consciousness, as though in mid-conversation with the spectator.
"I take time to build up a rapport with the person," says
Delacampagne. "It either happens or it doesn't, but if there's no
rapport then the shot won't be successful."
Some of Delacampagne's subjects are captured at work. A shoe-seller
grins genially from behind teetering mountains of boxes, a television
at his side. A carpet-weaver glances up mid-stitch, glaring at the
lens from under-hooded eyes. A lady proudly displays the priestly
vestments she has sewn.
Others are photographed in the home. Many of the subjects in the
selection are elderly women, propped up in bed by a mound of pillows
or perched on a chair with stick in hand.
Some of these characters are spectacularly aged. The skin hangs
from the bone in swags and deep creases mark the faces. Speaking
of a wealth of life experience, one could stare at these compelling
characters for hours.
This focus on the elderly wasn't part of the original project.
"I chose these particular images for aesthetic reasons," says
Delacampagne. "These were the ones that pleased me most. But I'm
conscious of a lack of younger subjects here and next time I want to
concentrate on the youth."
Delacampagne's project is ongoing. Ultimately, she plans to publish
a book of the images, but there are still many more facets of Bourj
Hammoud that she wants to capture. This is a project that thrives on
chance and spontaneity.
"I don't plan anything," says Delacampagne. "Every time I go to
Bourj Hammoud there's something new. The work is in a constant state
of flux."
Delacampagne is of Armenian heritage. She was born in Lebanon and still
has family here, but now divides her time between Paris and New York.
In some respects, Delacampagne's photographs of Bourj Hammoud seem
to be linked to an exploration of her own identity as an Armenian.
"[Turkey's] non-recognition of the Armenian genocide is something that
affects all of us," she says. "How do you live with that? Should you
just forget about it and carry on?
"My friends sometimes ask me whether this legacy is a stultifying
thing, whether it prevents me from going forward. But I don't think
like this. I don't think that this issue should prevent participation."
Delacampagne's photographs offer a glimpse of diverse lives, united
only by a geographical area and their shared Armenian heritage. They
are at once a preservation of a particular moment of Armenian history
and an exploration of the many ways of being an Armenian.
But her compelling photographs possess a wider aesthetic appeal. The
general fascination of Bourj Hammoud is likely to continue undimmed.
"The Armenians of Bourj Hammoud" continues until April 29. For more
details, call +961 1 420 200.