There’s an interesting new project based out of the University of Kent who’s methods seem really cool, even if the ultimate ends seem questionably ambiguous. Through four new projects, the research programme Radical Distrust hopes …

For the characters inhabiting Amir Nizar Zuabi’s ‘I am Yusuf and This Is My Brother’, survival is paramount; but there is no redemption to be found in this haunting play.

Yet another creative project coming out of the experimental classes of Beirut. Yallah Undergound, a documentary that captures the underground music scene in the Middle East, drawing parallels between musicians and styles in urban centres like Amman, Cairo and Beirut of course. This trailer shows the interviews and soundbytes from Rayess Bek, I-Voice, Scrambled Eggs, and The New Government and plays like a visual mixtape.

We will regularly be presenting a featured artist, writer or performer who is exploring questions of identity and personal narrative through their medium of expression.

The map is your representation. No rigid lines, no defined routes. You direct it on your own account.

I’m always conflicted when it comes to so-called “conscious rap”. Labels serve a purpose, yet at the same time they are confining and often times misleading. Immortal Technique is a “conscious rapper”, yet one can find countless homophobic and misogynistic lines throughout his albums. Cam’ron is a “gangsta/crack rapper”, and yet his classic tracks “D.R.U.G.S.” and “Sports, Drugs, & Entertainment” both astute commentaries that even Nancy Reagan could have championed in her “Just Say No” crusade. Another problem I have with the “conscious” label is that it immediately strips the music of its aesthetics and style. It removes the craft and art from the music. All to frequently, we as the listener tend to conflate “good message” with “good music”. Fortunately for us all, there exist emcees such as Narcy [The Narcicyst], an Iraqi emcee raised in Canada, who effortlessly weaves aesthetics and message together. It is music whose both form and content leave one feeling enlightened.

A week after the too-big, and controversy-laden Toronto International Film Festival has officially packed its bags (until next year), Toronto can start making room for the takeover of the 2nd Annual Toronto Palestine Film Festival …

Every year, as the crisp winds of September arrive and labour day post-summer humdrum is laid to rest - a painful anniversary reminds all of us why the world we live in is a very …

“Lebanon is beautiful, it is my home… but here, I cannot be free. My view from here is blocked and the Lebanese are asleep to all the beautiful things they have to see.”

My appreciation of Lebanon begins with recognizing its style, its ability to meld renegade culture and art, the behind the scenes political discussions, the sporadic displays of cosmopolitanism amidst mental and physical rubble, and even the excesses of the luxurious jet set that lend to its enduring cool. But there are things about Lebanon that are tainted and easily eclipse the joie de vivre the Lebanese purport to specialize in. The things about this country that frustrate are not simply disruptions to my personal comforts – daily electricity outages, ubiquitously slow Internet, dismal public transport, heavy noise pollution and sticky smog. The things that create more discomfort about Lebanon’s mentality as a society is the blatant segregtion of outsiders.

Memory is a volatile object that can re-emerge no matter how much superficial tendencies wish to filter. Every now and then, Beirut’s cultural scene sees a few projects pushing memory to the centre through installations, movie screenings and exhibitions. Luckily, the emergence of public art spaces and curators looking to search for memory is helping this work build and progress. The Beirut Art Centre and The Hangar - UMAM are two sites that are making the discourse viable.

Welcome to Beirut, Lebanon where you can be everything you want to be - among the glitterati in sky high clubs with polished heels, discussing politics among the expatriot intelligentsia in bohemian backdoors, or setting up an evening Nargileh (water pipe) outpost in your car on the Corniche. Even as an observer of Beirut’s many worlds - the contradictions, the contrasts, the tragedies - I feel the unmistakable heartbeat, the pulsing arteries filled with suffocating cigarette fumes and a persistent, intense desperation to stay alive.