A poignant Lebanese photo book reflects on the memory of home

‘Not here, not there’ is exactly how Lebanese artist and cultural practitioner Charbel Alkhoury has felt for a long time. In the lingering shadow of economic collapse, the catastrophic 2020 Beirut explosion, and ongoing political unrest, Alkhoury, like many others grappling with the instability of their home countries, was forced to emigrate in search of a more certain future abroad. Earlier this year, he applied for asylum in Belgium, a decision that now prevents him from returning to Lebanon until he obtains Belgian nationality; a process that can take at least six years. ‘That truth settled like a weight I wasn’t ready to carry,’ he shares with us.

A way to process that pain emerged through the creation of this photography book, developed in close collaboration with the independent book publisher Middle East Archive. ‘This book is a kind of offering, a way to honour the life I left behind, the city and the streets that shaped me,’ he admits. Spanning 88 pages, Not Here Not There brings together Alkhoury’s final memories of home before his departure: a selection of images taken between 2019 and 2021 that evoke an urgent, raw energy. Overexposed or heavily saturated, the photographs appear hazy and disoriented; a visual language that speaks to what cannot be articulated.

Liminality emerges as an important aspect in the title, capturing the feeling of being ‘never fully here, never fully there,’ as Alkhoury vividly puts it. In a way, this sense of ‘in-between’ shaped the photographer’s identity from the start. He was raised in Byblos, also known as Jbeil, a historic coastal city in northern Lebanon. ‘My father is from the south of Lebanon, and my mother is from Beirut. During the civil war (1975–1990), they both moved to Byblos, where they met, so that’s how we ended up living there.’ While the city is renowned for its archaeological richness and centuries-old quarters, it’s the Mediterranean Sea that holds sway over Alkhoury’s thoughts. ‘What I miss the most now that I live in Brussels is the Mediterranean Sea. I often dream about it,’ he says.

‘Not Here Not There’ by Charbel Alkhoury, published by Middle East Archive

The process of putting together Not Here Not There was understandably emotional, but also entirely unplanned. He recounts: ‘I didn’t set out to make a book. One ordinary day, Middle East Archive unexpectedly shared some of my photographs on Instagram. Soon after, Romaisa Baddar, the founder, reached out and asked if I’d be interested in working together – an exhibition, perhaps, or a book. Without thinking twice, I said, “A book”.’ Together, Baddar and Alkhoury sifted through hundreds of images. ‘Some brought back warmth, others were harder to revisit.’ They chose those that best conveyed the feeling of being suspended between places, between absence, longing, and memory. The result is a title shaped by instinct and honesty: images that read like unfiltered recollections, unembellished and unposed. It is a quiet, vulnerable portrait of displacement and remembrance.

The photographs span the three cities that hold the most meaning for Alkhoury: Byblos, his birthplace; Zouk Mosbeh, where he completed his bachelor’s in photography and multimedia; and Beirut, where he once envisioned building a life. A powerful interplay between stillness and energy also runs throughout the book; a visual rhythm that mirrors the emotional tension Alkhoury has felt as an Asylum seeker. ‘Putting them together creates a tension that mirrors the feeling of being in-between – never fully here, never fully there,’ he elaborates. Protest scenes make this sense of turbulence palpable. Notably, they are the only photographs in the book to include people. ‘That emptiness is intentional. It reflects the sense of absence and fragmentation I felt while working on the book. Many people I love are no longer physically present, and the places themselves carry more of their traces than their presence.’

Since Not Here Not There is as much about memory as it is about place, Alkhoury candidly tells us about the moments he remembers most dearly. ‘When I think of home, I remember sweaty nights standing outside bars, smoking with friends, long summer days at the beach, sharing food and drinks, or lying on the couch at my parents’ place. Protesting in the streets with friends and comrades,’ he recalls. One series in the book stands out for its quiet intensity, images taken from the window of Alkhoury’s Beirut home with a pair of glasses placed over the lens. The distortion turns roadside lights into soft heart-shaped glows: ‘I must have taken a thousand photos of this same view. I was obsessed with it. I documented it constantly, in the rain, during sunsets and sunrises, even in the middle of thunderstorms. It became a kind of ritual, a quiet way of holding onto the city.’

The completion of Not Here Not There marks a physical and emotional pause for the Lebanese photographer. But it’s in the intangible, these photographs of flickering memories, that we glimpse Alkhoury’s inner world. ‘I hope the book gives space for reflection on what it means to leave, to remember, and to carry fragments of home with you, even when you’re far from it,’ he muses. Looking ahead, Alkhoury is working on two new research-led projects that blend video and installation. ‘One explores occult practices as forms of resistance, and the other is still in its early stages, something I’d prefer to keep secret for now,’ he notes.

‘Not Here Not There’ by Charbel Alkhoury, Middle East Archive, 35€, middleastarchive.com