ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Welcome to This Being Human. I’m your host Abdul Rehman-Malik. On this podcast from the Aga Khan Museum, I talk to extraordinary people from all over the world whose life, ideas and art are shaped by Muslim culture. 

NADIR NAHDI:

There's a new generation that has a very unique perspective to how they see themselves as young Muslims in the modern world. 

TANYA MUNEERA WILLIAMS:

I am this wide-eyed girl. I'm like, I want it all, I want to experience it all.

GINELLA MASSA:

Everyone has a story. Sometimes you just have to find out what it is.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Like the poem that inspires this podcast, The Guest House, by Sufi poet Jallaludin Rumi, we’re talking to people who seek meaning and joy in work and life…regardless of what the day brings.

Today, two architects whose work is revitalizing and reimagining Lebanon.

CHARLES KETTANEH:

I don't know if there's a lot of places like that on Earth that can really allow for I don't know, emotions, imagination, creativity to happen and to be fostered by so many conflicting, you know, sentiments. Because sometimes we hate, sometimes we love, sometimes we just want to leave and never come back and forget. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

You can learn a lot about a country through its built environment. Concrete is never just concrete. Tiles are more than tiles. They contain history, commerce, culture… 

In Lebanon, you can also see the scars of past traumas. The country is still recovering from a 15-year civil war that ended in 1990, not to mention numerous incursions on its borders. More recently, an explosion in Beirut in the summer of 2020 killed over 200 people, injured thousands, and caused immense damage to the city.

Lebanon has been through a lot, and is actively figuring out how to rebuild.

Enter Nicolas Fayad and Charles Kettaneh, the minds behind EAST Architecture Studio. Their work isn't merely about designing grand buildings. It’s thoughtful, considered, and intellectually rigorous, with a strong focus on deep research, history and innovation. 

This is what made them one of the winners of this year’s Aga Khan Award for Architecture.

The project that got them the prize was the Renovation of the Niemeyer Guest House in Tripoli, Lebanon – a project begun by renowned Brazilian Architect Oscar Niemeyer in 1962. It was part of the Rashid Karami International Fair, which was meant to be a permanent tourist draw for the city. The construction was never finished, and the project was eventually abandoned in 1975 at the outbreak of the Civil War. 

This particular project was something that Chalres and Nicolas had a long-standing, personal connection to. Let’s hear what Nicolas has to say about that.

NICOLAS FAYAD

Well, it's a beautiful story. I believe the first time we visited the site, Charles and I, we were maybe 19 years old. We were at architecture school. And we went on a site visit with an expert in the fields of modern heritage and preservation of modern heritage. It was the first time for us where we actually witnessed a legitimate piece of modern architecture. It was the first time we were faced with really the striking architecture language that the fair actually was trying to convey. And we came up with our own student project and as a response and as an experience, it was really, extremely…I would say, informative and really stayed with us as part of our learning curve. So when we heard about this competition or request for proposal a few years ago that was addressing for the first time the rehabilitation of one of the pavilions, we immediately jumped on the occasion. And luckily enough, we won that competition to rehabilitate one of the pavilions. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:  

There's something about Oscar Niemeyer's work, which stops you, doesn't it? It forces you to look. You can't take your eyes off it. And part of that is because I always feel that, although for us now in 2022, we're looking back on, you know, 80 years of Niemeyer's output, but Niemeyer's work never feels like it's old. You know, in 2022, I see pictures of the incredible work that you've done on the guest house at the fairgrounds in Tripoli and it feels new. It feels like the future, actually. It doesn't even feel like the now. When I look at it, I'm like, oh, that's something from a future time. So I have to ask both of you, how does Oscar Niemeyer's work make you feel? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

Well I'm seduced by his work and he's known to have been actually a very seductive architect in the way he deals with proportions and the way he deals with materials. Really, the striking linearity of his structures, the relationship of the mass and void, the relationship of the plainer - I would say geometry - that he introduces in every single project is extremely seductive, right? And very, very few architects around the world and through history were able to achieve this - really this attraction that one would have towards a piece of architecture. If you travel the world and look at his work, it's recognizable for that simple reason, I would say.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:  

Charles, are you seduced as well?

CHARLES KETTANEH:

It is, yes, seductive architecture. But I'm going to use maybe Niemeyer's terms to describe his own architecture, like the curve that he very often introduces in his projects is very feminine, actually. And perhaps this is why one eye, one would attract the eye to the curve, in a way, the curvature. But that is essentially due to the fact that Niemeyer was using concrete at that time in a way that no one used concrete. And what he was really fond about was the plasticity of concrete. How it could be used to do a straight line and how it could be used to do a curve, a dome, really, any kind of shapes. And we see that very clearly at the Rashid Karami International Fair, where you have pavilions that are, you know, absolutely out of this world - that looks like, you know, a spaceship, a flying saucer, name it. And then suddenly you have these very strict, very rigid shapes like the guest house, And it's really the simplicity of the gesture of his structures that really makes a difference, I would say. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

Did you feel like you were collaborating with Oscar Niemeyer as you began reimagining and developing the guest house? I mean, given your descriptives, it feels like you were dancing, you were dancing with him, you were dancing with his ideas, and you were dancing with this incredible building. So I guess the question for me is, were you dancing with Oscar Niemeyer? 

CHARLES KETTANEH: 

Really what we've done, we've tried to interpret the guest house and to reveal its DNA in a bit, but we didn’t try to really do exactly what Niemeyer would have done, but rather interpret it in our own way, contextualize it today in the 21st century and also, I mean, adapt it to the new program that it would inhabit. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

And Nicolas, what was the intent of the original guest house pavilion as part of this Rashid Karami International Fair Ground that was being developed in Tripoli? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

So the guest house in itself is located right off the main entrance and it was supposed to house the exhibitors of the fair. And it was intentionally designed as an open space around the courtyard where all the public functions would actually happen, such as a lounge, a restaurant and a reception space. And as an idea, really, it was trying to promote as much as possible this idea of openness, the play. And very special play was an introversion. So it's a building that is designed as an introverted building that has no windows to the outside whatsoever, but that actually benefits from light that always comes from the top, either from a courtyard condition or from a ceiling condition that actually allows for light to penetrate from higher level rather than from the front.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

It sounds magical, Nicolas. It almost sounds like a modern caravanserai. You know, you enter into this space and all this life emerges and you're protected from all the madness and insanity of the outside. Is that sort of what he was going for? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

It is. But then surprisingly the first time we went onsite to actually look at it, it had almost disappeared in the landscape because nature had taken over the pavilion. All those courtyards were overgrown with vegetation. So there was actually no more light that came into the pavilion when we first received it as really a piece of architecture to intervene on. So the design intent had completely disappeared, right, at that stage. And we had to really bring it back to life. We had to infrastructurally allow for an intervention to happen. So there was a lot of cleaning, there was a lot of, if you’d like scrapping, to bring it back to what it was supposed to be and then to actually intervene on.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

You know, Charles, we hear so much, of course, about Beirut. And Beirut has an energy and a life in it and a kind of a cosmopolitan identity that I think is recognized, you know, both in history and it's very confusing, often divided present. But some people are even surprised to hear that there's a Tripoli in Lebanon. Tell us something about this city. And particularly, why was this city chosen as the site for this grand project in the 1960s when Oscar Niemeyer was really at the apex of his fame and renown. Why Tripoli? And why did Rashid Karami International Fair - the grounds for that end up there? 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

At the time, Lebanon was really in its golden ages at all levels. And during that time, there were like major fairs that were growing everywhere in the world. And the Middle East had to have fairs, right? I mean, it was a must. And the Middle East was doing quite, quite well at the time. And in nearby Syria, there was the, I think the Damascus International Fair. And as a response, Lebanon created its own fair and its second biggest city, that is Tripoli, and that actually happens to be the closest to Syria as well. Also, Tripoli was a great location to do that because there was plenty of space. Beirut had already started its urban expansion. It was less the case for Tripoli. And the site that was selected was filled of orange groves. It was agricultural fields. And Oscar Niemeyer was at the time - the president was Fouad Chehab - they visited the fairgrounds and they delimited the space and the project was supposed to be even grander than that. It was supposed to be a second city, really, was like developments going all the way to the sea. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Wow. 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

Yeah. And when that actually didn't happen, they decided to close it off and to create this large loop, this egg-shaped site, which is by the way 1 million square meter, which is humongous. 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

For us as architects, the fairground itself has always been really a playground, I would say, and a source of inspiration. And it will always be. And a lot of this inspiration, quote unquote, comes from the fact that, you know, derelict structures and ruins are also very seductive. So how do you actually negotiate the actual current state of despair of the site with the injection of an intervention or the injection of the public in a site that has been abandoned for so long? And it's this negotiation that becomes interesting. So when we were selected to actually renovate the guest house, it was a huge challenge to really imagine it as this first pavilion that would draw the public in a fairground that actually never operated as such - where the public was actually never allowed to get in. So it is a challenge and it was debated amongst us at the office and with our client and activists, other architects in our immediate circle. So seeing now that the project is successful and that it has been recognized by the Aga Khan Award for Architecture is a huge step in what we are thinking could become an incremental urban regeneration of the site, rather than thinking that there's a total renovation plan from a top-bottom, you know, approach. But on the contrary, thinking that we have planted seeds in the site and that another one would follow, hopefully. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

You know, both of you are based in a city that is a city of layers upon layers of history, politics, economics, religion. And really, for as long as I've been alive, born in 1975, the year that the Neimeyer Project was abandoned in Tripoli, it's been a city that I have always associated with trauma. And most recently, the 2020 explosion brought everything that both of you are talking about into sharp relief - the human cost of the devastating explosion, but also against the backdrop of recent history. As architects, as people who are so committed to the built environment and what that means…how was it? I'll start with you, Charles. How was it being in the city you clearly love and have made your home and watching it shook in 2020 in this way? 

CHARLES KETTANEH: 

Yeah. I don't think there's another word that comes into mind than trauma. I mean, it's clearly the case because we've lived it, literally. We were there. We were present. We were close to the epicenter. We got injured, our houses got destroyed, our parents got injured. It was traumatic at so many levels. And then once we, you know, that trauma leaves our mind, our personal trauma leaves our mind, and we kind of start looking at the city, then we can start thinking and re-engaging. And really, you know, making up our mind and understanding of what this whole thing means and meant. So that's in a nutshell, my first reaction to your question.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

Did you immediately imagine as you cleared out of the fog and the haze of those initial few days, did both of you immediately start to imagine how to rebuild? What it would mean to rebuild? I can only imagine you, as architects would go to the tools, the skills that are closest to you. What was happening in your hearts and in your minds as you were viewing this? What did you want to do at that moment? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

You know, it takes a lot of thinking and a lot of experimentation to really know where would you go next after such events. And you can actually learn a lot from history, because Beirut, as you brilliantly described it, is a city of layers. And what makes it, I would say, special. And if you were to actually go back to history and to really understand how the city was built. After several traumatic events - and the port explosion is only one of them - the city got rebuilt. Sometimes it was embraced and welcomed by the citizens and the Beirutis. But sometimes it was a total failure. So the question is, how would you actually learn from the past and how do you learn from these past experiences to actually know where you're going? Under the Ottoman Empire, the city had a very close relationship with its port. And the port was really an integral part of the city. Residents had a direct access to the port. And the port lived as a public space. It was a meeting point, it was a social space. And you can actually read all about it. It was a place for collective memory, for beautiful social practices to actually happen in the port. And then when the French mandate came, total erasure of the Ottoman city. You had the French planner that came in and really drew, if you’d like, a new city on top of the Ottoman city, which happened to actually be successful as a plan. Because it actually allowed for a very porous groundscape and a very porous, if you’d like, ground floor where all the retail would actually happen, where people met and that actually at the time still allowed for a connection with the port. It was only in the postwar reconstruction project of the early ‘90s that looked at the reconstruction of the old downtown, right, in the exact same way it was imagined and designed and built by the French mandates that proved to be problematic because it only addressed a portion of the population. It turned out to be a very sterile environment that really relies on consumerism, on I would say a capitalistic therapy for all the residents of downtown Beirut that were expelled and expropriated from their properties to actually be replaced by this new ruling class, I would say. And it was trauma, right? It was another, it's one of those traumatic events that really has to do, that dealt with erasure as a solution to the reconstruction project. So how do we learn from this, now that the city has blown up, right? For let's say now, in modern times, how do you deal with it? How do you learn from these past experiences? How do you recreate the connection? 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK: 

You're up against, as you just talked about, historical forces of change, colonization, of politics and economics that seek to erase. And here you guys are building a practice in a city, the ground zero of all these social political movements and tragedies. And you're trying to almost recover, aren't you? You're trying to recover elements of that past. You've taken on a Herculean task, Charles and Nicolas. You've taken on this massive task. I mean, you must feel the burden of it sometimes.

CHARLES KETTANEH: 

Yeah. It's very inspiring as well, you know, because it's so layered and it's so complex that it's quite unique. And I don't know if there's a lot of places like that on Earth that can really allow for, I don't know, emotions, imagination, creativity to happen and to be fostered by so many conflicting, you know, sentiments. Because sometimes we hate, sometimes we love, sometimes we just want to leave and never come back and forget. Sometimes we want to erase. And I think a lot of Lebanese feel that way. And there's this love-hate relationship with the country that is very unique to Lebanon because of everything that has happened throughout the years. And this is really like a very, very strong fuel for creativity. And I guess it's one of the things that makes us maybe special or makes us want to stay there. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

There's so much more to talk about, always. And I love cities. I also believe that, you know, that cities are this remarkable human thing, isn't it? That they kind of live and breathe. I know there's that theory of cities which sees the city as an organism. But there's also that theory of cities that sees city as a metaphysics almost, right? That sees a city as that place where you can where you can imagine. And you can imagine big and vast and beautifully, you know. And then work to make the city of your dreams. Can Beirut become the city of your dreams? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

Well, as we speak, Beirut is torn. And it's torn at so many levels. And it's really, as you have described it, a huge challenge for us as architects to really re-imagine how the city would actually come back to life. There is very, very little life in Beirut right now for so many reasons, be it the economic meltdown that we're going through, be it the political instability that is, I would say, here to stay for a while. So it's really in the hands of the people. Our government has completely let us down. And it's us as really these little collectives, right, that can make a change. 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

And I believe a lot of Lebanese and also the Lebanese diaspora living abroad really tried to do their best to keep that country afloat, even though there is no government at the moment. And even if there was, I mean, in the past couple of years, it's really the people who have made the change, at the ground level, you know like really people are the main actors in this country. And let's not forget that it's a tiny country and that's also what makes it kind of beautiful and at the same time manageable. Like, it could be the easiest country to manage from a political standpoint, but it is the most difficult one because of all the unfortunate factions between the different political groups.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Before we wrap up, I need to ask this question. I feel like there's, of course, a very deep spirituality in architecture. The belief in the spirit that something is operating, you know, beyond bricks and mortar or poured concrete or the lives of the curves around us. That there's something something powerful, there's a spirit. And I wonder to what extent your work as architects, as conveners of collectives, as imaginers of spaces for now in the future, I wonder to what extent that is a spiritual practice for you. I'll start with you, Charles. 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

The process of designing in itself is a very personal, even when we do it collaboratively, it's something that comes from within, really. So there is maybe a parallelism to be made with like almost something spiritual, right? And the only way to see if a design is successful or not is when the public intervenes and interacts with that space because he/she is the only way to make sure that the message that we were aiming at, you know, convening, actually passed. And so the public is so important. Like when I say the public, I mean, the person interacting with the space, that is not the designer, is so important to really-- he is the judge at the end of the day. He's the judge of our work. And, you know, it would be really, I mean, unfortunate if we would design something and the reaction would be really opposite to what we would have initially intended. So yeah, I think it's really, really important that interaction that you're talking about. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Nicolas, is it a spiritual practice for you? 

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

Definitely it is. And when you think about really the spiritual practice in relationship to the narrative that you actually allow through the spaces that you design to somehow overlap with experiences that people actually, I would say, feel when they're in the spaces, right? So they come in and they leave their own trace, they create their own narratives. And this is what actually makes somehow your project quite successful, right, as an architect. And then it actually has to do with collective memory. And this is where you start to relate to the space, right, as a user or as someone who's experiencing the space. So this is extremely spiritual, as you're saying.

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Charles and Nicolas, as reimaginers of a different guest house, who or what would you invite into your guest house? Nicolas.

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

Specifically, if you think about the guest house at the Tripoli fair, really the first person or maybe a group of people, maybe let's put it this way, I would really like to see in the guest house is the Tripolitans, is the people of Tripoli for whom this this fairground was actually designed for. We see very little Tripolitans coming in to the fairgrounds, unfortunately. We see very little interest. It's just starting now to really attract just the immediate residents around the fairgrounds. And really, this is really my wish for the guest house in Tripoli. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

And, Charles, who are you inviting into your guest house? 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

I would invite Niemeyer to the guest house. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK:

Oh I love it. I would love it. Wouldn't it be something? You and Nicolas and Niemeyer in the guest house and I would love to hear what he would have to say. 

Thank you, Charles Kettaneh. Thank you, Nicolas Fayad, for being with me on This Being Human.

NICOLAS FAYAD: 

Thank you Abdul-Rehman, thank you so much. 

CHARLES KETTANEH:

It was a real pleasure. 

ABDUL-REHMAN MALIK VOICEOVER:

Thanks for listening to This Being Human. 

You can see some of Nicolas Fayad and Charles Kettaneh’s work by following the link in the show notes. We’ve also included a link where you can learn more about the Aga Khan Award for Architecture and see the other projects that won this year. 

This Being Human is produced by Antica Productions in partnership with TVO. 

Our Senior Producer is Kevin Sexton. Our associate producer is Hailey Choi. Additional editorial support by Lisa Gabriele. Mixing and sound design by Phil Wilson. Original music by Boombox Sound. Stuart Coxe is the president of Antica Productions. Shagheyegh Tajvidi is TVO’s managing editor of digital video and podcasts. Laurie Few is the executive for digital at TVO.

This Being Human is generously supported by the Aga Khan Museum, one of the world’s leading institutions that explores the artistic, intellectual and scientific heritage of Muslim civilizations around the world. For more information about the museum go to www.agakhanmuseum.org

The Museum wishes to thank Nadir and Shabin Mohamed for their philanthropic support to develop and produce This Being Human.

Charles Kettaneh and Nicolas Fayad are the founders of EAST Architecture Studio, an architectural design and research collective based in Beirut. They have worked on various projects ranging from master planning to interior design with a focus on sustainability, adaptive reuse, and history.  

In 2018, EAST Architecture Studio was chosen to renovate the Niemeyer Guest House in Tripoli. Funded by development and aid agency, Expertise France, the firm was chosen to give the guest house, as Nicolas calls it a “new life”, and adapt it into a design platform and production space for carpenters, furniture designers, and suppliers. This is part of an initiative called Minjara, which aims to reinvigorate Tripoli’s once-famed but now-declining wood industry. 

The guest house stands within the Rachid Karami International Fair (RKIF), designed by renowned Brazilian Modernist architect, Oscar Niemeyer. The project began in 1964 to build a permanent international exhibition space that was supposed to host up to 2 million visitors a year. It was scheduled to open in 1969 but was abandoned due to funding and the outbreak of the Lebanese civil war in 1975. The complex was deserted for years and then in 2018, the RKIF was added to UNESCO’s World Heritage Tentative List. The guest house was originally designed to house the organizers and attendees of the exhibition. 

Both Charles and Nicolas have over 12 years of experience in architecture. Charles studied architecture at the American University of Beirut and the Pratt Institute, where he then went on to work at international design firms across the US including RSVP Studio and Perkins Eastman. He then returned to Lebanon where he worked at Raed Abillama Architects for several years. Charles is also the Chairman of The Kettanah Group, a distributor of automotive, medical, energy and automation, and construction brands in the Middle East.

Nicolas completed his Bachelor in Architecture at the American University of Beirut and his Masters in Architecture from Harvard University Graduate School of Design. His work has been exhibited at the Venice Biennale and the Abu Dhabi Ministry of Culture. Nicolas has been listed on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 - Art & Design in 2011. In 2021, he was a Visiting Professor at MIT’s School of Architecture and Planning, where he co-taught a class on “Trauma Urbanism” which explored reconstruction and preservation strategies for post cataclysmic Beirut. He is currently a professor of Architecture at the American University of Beirut.