“They know every minute of peace is euphoric life celebration.”
That’s what my friend tells me about the Lebanese people as I explain why, right now, it feels vital to show another side of the Middle East. One that is rich, inspiring and stunning, the Beirut I saw on my visit just weeks ago.
And I mean really saw.
There was this aliveness. An inescapable, almost defiant hope in the air. I know…you wouldn’t think it, watching the news. But it was real. It was vibrant and tender and unpitying, seeping out of the pores of the city itself. I saw creativity. Young artists. Inspiring meals, and farm-to-table restaurants that felt like rituals. The Levantine region - straddling Palestine, Syria, Jordan, Israel, and close to Egypt and Cyprus - is thick with myth, memory, and meaning. Its culture isn’t just tradition. It’s a philosophy and therefore a mindset.
The people of Beirut live close to the headlines. They know death and they walk beside it. And because of that, they embrace life. Fully. Fiercely.
Beauty, in this context, is not naïve. Beauty is rebellious. Especially in a world still surfing waves of grief, rupture, and collapse. In Beirut, beauty is not a luxury. It is a necessity.
”Tell them about Dabke”, the voice in my head repeats.
And I sit here trying to find the thread, because the truth is, writing about Dabke is like trying to explain joy with a diagram or love to someone who’s only seen it in films. It’s not an idea, it’s an action and thereby a way of being. Imagine a bowl of delicious spaghetti; the general vibe is “yum,” but which strand do you pull up first?
So here’s the simplest strand: in the face of grief, dance.
But the nuance is experiential. It’s not about pretending everything’s fine. It’s about knowing pain and choosing joy BECAUSE YOU HAVE CHOICE. It's the kind of wisdom that only lives in the body. Have you ever had food poisoning - or god forbid, a life-threatening illness - and then, when you recover, you cherish your energy? That’s Beirut. That’s the Lebanese spirit. That’s the electricity in Beirut.
That’s the kind of aliveness I want to bottle and bring back. A kind of raw, earthly spirituality that isn’t curated for Instagram. It’s not whispered on mountaintops in Nepal or stirred into cacao in South America, though all of that has its place.
No. This is human. This is 3D. This is: offering bread to strangers. A spirituality that cooks you a meal, that offers laughter and invites you in. It’s the kind of aliveness that had people clapping from balconies during lockdown, baking cakes for NHS workers. It’s real. And it’s generous.
That’s the world Dabke comes from.
Dabke is a traditional Levantine line dance - Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, Jordan. It’s stomping, clapping, breathing, being. It’s danced at weddings and protests, on rooftops and streets, after heartbreak and after war. The word itself - dabka - means to stamp, to strike, to make noise with the feet. It’s about presence. Unity. Joy that is not polite, but pulsing.
“Dabke is more than a traditional dance,” a friend said. “It’s communion.”
In a time when so much of the world feels paralysed, overwhelmed, or afraid, Dabke is an invitation: Move so I can move. Stomp so I remember I’m alive.
So if you’re reading this wondering what your role is as an artist in this collapsing, expanding world - start here.
Create not as escape, but as resistance. Create not because things are perfect, but because they’re not. That is the work. That is the offering.
Tell them about Dabke. And then, dance.
From The Factory >
Live and live on. A painting commission from a beautiful cabin in the North of England.
CAN Art fair
When Sky Turns to Water on show now in CAN Art Fair
Poem Cast >
'Rituals'
This week I went to Kip & Nook in Yorkshire to do a painting commission and found myself inspired by the Northern skies. I made two paintings, both acrylic on board, but this art vlog is about more than just the final pieces.
Prompts >
JOURNAL:
Where in your life are you choosing joy as rebellion?
Reflect on the moments when joy has not been easy, but necessary. What did it cost? What did it shift?
ASK SOMEONE:
When was the last time you felt fully alive. Where were you, and who were you with?
CREATIVE ACT:
Create something in the presence of life.
Go somewhere noisy, messy, joyful, where people are talking, dancing, cooking, loving, living. Make something while it’s happening.
Musings >
“When the work is hard, that’s how I know it’s mine. I want to be changed by the doing.”
- Viola Davis, Actors on Actors, 2020“It’s when I’m closest to breaking that the real work begins. That’s when the gold is near.”
- David Lynch, Catching the Big Fish, 2006“If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word.”
- Margaret Atwood, The Paris Review, 1990“The truth doesn’t need to be shouted. It just needs to be danced.”
- Mahershala Ali, The Talks, 2019
Such moving words. Thank you! ♥️