“I am, at the moment, believe it or not, in Beirut myself,” Tarek Atrissi said in response to an email asking him how he was feeling about the recent wartime escalations on the border of Lebanon and Israel. “I accepted an invitation to teach this semester at the American University of Beirut. Not the best timing—but I am happy to be with my parents in these moments.”
For those who do not know Atrissi (who I met over 25 years ago when he was student at SVA MFA Design), his work has been exhibited at the Guggenheim in New York and is in the permanent design collection of the Affiche Museum in the Netherlands. He has taught at the American University in Dubai as well as the Virginia Commonwealth University in Qatar, and currently teaches at the Utrecht School of the Arts in the Netherlands. His research focuses on visual culture in the Middle East, as well as the history of graphic design practice in the Arab world. He is a founding member of The Design Alliance Asia, one of the most extensive collaborative networks of designers on the continent, with a shared vision of advancing Asian identity as a vital cultural force and a strategic platform for design.
Atrissi and I later reconnected to discuss his teaching work and Beirut today.
What was it like to be in a war zone once again? I understand that you managed to leave the city, but the psychological impact of the air raids must take a toll.
I grew up during the war. The first 12 years of my life—and hence most of my childhood—were spent in war-torn Lebanon. Some of my earliest memories as a child are from the 1982 Israeli invasion of Beirut.
When I decided to accept a teaching invitation at the American University of Beirut—my alma mater—I didn’t expect to find myself halfway through in a war zone again. Experiencing this situation as an adult feels surreal. It brings back many memories of the war. It makes me angry because I know what it is like to be a child living in war, and I don’t think any child should endure this. No child should be waiting for a ceasefire. I am also angry because the world is not doing enough to stop this. I am one of the privileged people who recently had the option to leave Lebanon and one of the fortunate ones who found a flight out of the country. But many—including my students, colleagues and their families—do not have this opportunity. Knowing what they are still going through is mentally exhausting.
What were you doing during the peaceful interim of your stay in Beirut? You’ve always been a type and lettering historian, have you continued to do that?
The first part of the semester was still peaceful—despite the uncertainties of an impending war. I managed to take advantage of being back in my hometown to pursue the urban typographic documentation I have always worked on in the Arab world: capturing the charming typographic landscape of Beirut. What fascinates me most about street typography in the city is the intersection of handlettering, classic Arabic calligraphy, and type, which creates a unique and rich visual language. Street typography has always been a major source of inspiration in my graphic work. Several identities we have conceived in my studio, Tarek Atrissi Design, were inspired by the typographic visual language of Arab-world streets. Many Arabic typefaces I’ve designed in our type foundry have drawn inspiration from the handlettering found in the streets of Beirut.
Since you were last in Beirut, I understand that the design archives have become more robust. What have you uncovered?
I finally managed to visit one of the most fascinating poster archives in Lebanon, City Lights Posters, and received a private, intensive tour of their new location. The collection contains spectacular film posters that capture unforgettable cinema memories from the Arab world, particularly from the golden age of Egyptian cinema. They are organized into different thematic categories and are remarkable in both the quality and variety of their illustrations and lettering. I can’t help but worry about the risk of possibly losing such a wonderful archive during the war. After all, the attacks on Lebanon are sparing neither cultural nor archaeological sites.
As part of my research work at the American University of Beirut, I have also been organizing, documenting, studying and analyzing a portion of my own design archive in Lebanon, which was given to me by my late grandfather, Chafik Nehme, a journalist who worked in publishing. The archive includes a wide range of printed items, such as an incredible collection of magazines, letterheads, booklets and brochures from across the Arab world, especially Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and Egypt. The archive provides a unique insight into the history of Arabic graphic design in the 1960s, ’70s and ’80s. Particularly intriguing to me are the various logos found on stationery items, the packaging design seen in advertisements, and the bilingual adaptation of typographic titles in brochures promoting films.
You collect other designers’ work and create your own graphic design as a response to past and present events. Can you share some of these?
As a graphic designer, part of my work has always been connected to the social and political reality around us. My strong stance against the violence taking place in the Middle East over the past year, particularly in Gaza and Lebanon, has resulted in a series of works ranging from poster designs to personal sketches and lettering calling for a ceasefire and denouncing war crimes and genocide. Another digital poster series celebrated the resilience and strength of Palestinian women facing displacement, visually reinterpreting old and new national and resistance symbols associated with their defiance.
The growing design community in the Arab world has been very active in producing a wide range of creative work to protest against these injustices. I have been actively collecting and documenting some of the most powerful and striking works produced, as I believe this will become a rich collection of meaningful contemporary graphic design and illustration in the Arab world today. The work of Mazen Kerbaj and Eline van Dam is an example of this strong body of work that has captured my attention.
What is it like for your students to be in the midst of war?
I am so proud of my students. They are living under the most extreme conditions—many of them displaced and all of them enduring daily heavy bombardment—yet they remain dedicated to their classes and eager to develop their design skills. Remarkably, they are producing solid typographic work in the visual identity classes I am teaching. Life always finds a way to continue during war, especially among the young and ambitious.
I am equally proud of my fellow teachers, who are working under unbearable conditions to keep classes going in any way possible. We all feel that design education, under these circumstances, is more important than ever and is our way of fighting back and understanding what we can do as designers.
Do you plan on returning to teach at the American University again once normality returns?
Yes, absolutely. I feel my work involvement in Lebanon is more important than ever. I am hoping this will be over next year so I can return and teach the fall semester and continue to work with the next generation of Lebanese designers.