Artist’s Statement
There is a space between people and place — where we shape the world around us, and it shapes us in return. That is where my work takes root — cultivating ways to build with and for communities, spotlighting the voices within them, prioritizing cultural preservation and innovation through storytelling, art curation, and design.
This work has taken me across public and private sectors, working with global teams on projects both intimate and vast — from visual research and heritage branding to multifaceted urban development for cities like Baghdad, Mecca, and New York. My practice spans visual anthropology, cultural advocacy, and documentary storytelling, grounded in the belief that stories told with care and craft are acts of resistance, preservation, and healing.
At the heart of every project is a search for the deeply seated spirit — Rouh (روح) — of a person, a place, a community. Through close listening, observation and collaboration, something unscripted begins to emerge — unassuming, even wondrous. What grounds this curiosity is my own family history and my homeland. I am one of many of the Lebanese diaspora — carrying a longing to preserve the stories, the connection to the land, the embodied memories.
Tyme Studio grew from these sentiments and experiences. A boutique documentary film practice dedicated to capturing personal and cultural histories with depth and cinematic intimacy — it took shape slowly, inevitably, from years of that work.
Formally educated and trained in Social Anthropology at Harvard and Urban Design and Community Planning at the Architectural Association, and deepened through collaboration with internationally recognized firms, local artisans, visual artists, and communities across the Americas, Europe, and Asia — this practice continues to unfold as a lifelong exploration. Most recently in a children's book series inspired by the poetry of Rumi, and a cross-cultural multimedia exhibition honoring the legacy of a late Haitian artist. Two projects that begin with questions I always return to: How can this story be carried forward and shared? What would be lost if it went untold?
