50 Years Later - Where Do I Go?

لوين روح

2025 marks the fiftieth anniversary of the Lebanese Civil War. As we reach this symbolic date, Lebanon still suffers from its consequences. In the past few years, conditions have deteriorated fast, especially after a total economic meltdown, COVID-19, the Beirut Port Explosion on August 4, 2020, and yet another war in 2024.

Through it all, I found hope and inspiration in the young generation of women. I chose to focus on their majestic presence, creativity, strength, dignity, and resilience. I see my younger self in these women. I left Lebanon at age twenty to study in the United States in 1984. It was during the Civil War, in what had been the largest wave of emigration – until recently. Many find themselves at that same juncture, as they face the painful decision of whether to stay or leave. One road leads to separation from family, home, and life as they know it, the other means staying despite the fraught conditions in the country, always holding on to hope for better days.

I saw graffiti on a crumbling wall that said in Arabic: “Where do I go”لوينروح. I was with Perla, a young woman who threw herself on that wall. It became the title of this body of work.

The project kept evolving over the past years, as I invited more women to tell their story through our collaboration. Together we explored their relationship to the different aspects and textures of Lebanon. Each photograph is personal and has a narrative. The women, the land, the architecture are intertwined. I portray the raw beauty of their age, their individuality, physicality, texture, and mystery. I photograph them the way I, a woman and a mother, see them: beautiful, alive.

The process is collaborative, and the photo session evolves organically as the women become active participants in the image-making process, presiding over the environment, and making it their own. They climb on rocks and trees, jump fully dressed into dirty water and waterfalls, crawl under thorns, trespass into abandoned buildings. They are embracing life, not afraid of getting dirty, taking risks, and having fun. Given the space to express themselves, they are willing to experiment and go places neither of us thought possible just moments earlier. Just like living in Lebanon, we embrace the element of risk-taking and danger. It is part of who we are. It’s in our DNA.

I find myself focusing on their strength and their majestic presence. The collaboration is intense, creative, emotional, and personal. The need to hold on to creativity and self-expression feels urgent.

While my photographs may not provide solutions or closure, I hope they nevertheless invite the viewer to pause and find the beauty, the (shared) humanity, and the grace that still exists despite all. They are my love letters to the women of Lebanon. This project is for us all: the ones who stayed and the ones who have left but can never leave.