— Nayla, hello! Nice to meet you! I can see the artwork dedicated to the Beirut explosion behind you. Do you remember the day when the explosion happened?

— I was sitting on my laptop in my house when we heard the first explosion. I heard the first bomb and shouted, and the kids came. Then the second one hit, the big explosion. Nothing major happened in the house; there was just some broken glass. But the glass in my daughter’s room shattered onto her bed, and she had just been sitting there two minutes before. It went right onto the mattress.

Then came the stories — stories of the people we lost and, at the same time, stories of those who narrowly escaped. I think there was a big miracle in this country because there would have been far more victims in another scenario or in another country. But 220 is still a lot.

Every house has a story. Every house says, “If I had been here two seconds earlier, I would have died.” 

After the explosion, everyone started to help each other. You feel a sense of belonging and love for this country. You can't just sit and watch TV and do nothing. Everyone did something in their own way. If I didn’t want to go on the ground to help, I did it through my work. I sold ten pieces in three weeks and donated the money.

— Yeah, okay, let's talk about your artwork. I want to ask you about some specific pieces that I'm interested in, especially the ideas behind them. For example, in 2015, you had a solo exhibition called “Beirut. Love. Hate”. You mentioned that It was about the love-hate relationship that many Lebanese have with Beirut. Could you tell me more about this relationship? It was in 2015, so I'm curious about your thoughts on how this love-hate relationship might have evolved, especially considering everything that has happened since 2020.

— Beirut is a place where, honestly, if you are a normal person, you might feel schizophrenic. There are some parts you absolutely love, and then other parts make you wonder, "Where am I? This isn't the Beirut I know." 

The Lebanese community, like any other, is a dichotomy. In Beirut, many of us find ourselves in familiar circles—frequenting the same restaurants, pubs, and concerts, often seeing the same faces. But it is crucial to remember that there is also a significant portion of our community facing severe hardships, especially after the economic crisis and the situation with the banks.

This relationship with the city has always been here for me. One day, I’ll wake up and think, "Wow, I’m living in the best country in the world." Then, three hours later, I’m like, "What the hell am I doing here?" It is this love-hate relationship.

We have a community of people doing everything possible to make this country the best it can be. These well-traveled individuals are passionate about making a difference in Lebanon. They aim to bring back valuable ideas and experiences that can benefit the country. We have an incredible food scene, great restaurants, talented artists, and art galleries. Every shop, every restaurant — they invest millions in decoration, things you’d never see in Paris or L.A. I live in L.A. now, and you go to Paris or L.A., and they tell you it is the best restaurant, but it is just a wooden table with a wooden chair. The food might be great, but there is nothing special about the decor unless a famous architect designs it. In Beirut, every restaurant has a story, an architect, or a designer behind it. It is a very creative place.

But at the same time, we have no government and no one helping us grow or live our lives. Everything from the other side is dragging us down, draining us. That is why it is so hectic to live here. There are no rules; it is a jungle. When you walk on the street, there is no curb, and no one respects the red lights. It is chaotic.

The last time someone asked me how I’d describe Lebanon, I said it is a place of contrasts. It can be exciting and full of life, but it also comes with its challenges. While it is a place you can enjoy and appreciate, there are moments when you long for the stability and order you are used to elsewhere.

— You mentioned that L.A. has the same energy and vibes as Beirut. Let’s dive into that — how would you compare the two?

— When we first moved to L.A., I told my husband, "I’m not going anywhere unless there is sun." I get depressed without sunlight, so I wasn’t going to move somewhere gloomy. And I wasn’t going anywhere without a car — especially with kids. I didn’t want to be that mom in Europe, carrying bags and running around like crazy. That is why we chose L.A. I also had my kids there, and my husband’s family is anchored there, so it made sense for us to move.

Yes, it is very far, but it is great because it has the same energy. You can feel the difference when you are in a place with sunshine. The vibe is happier, and so are the people. In L.A., people are very nice and sophisticated, yet super chill — maybe even more relaxed than in Lebanon. When you go out, there is a vibrant energy—people put thought into how they present themselves, and the restaurants offer a warm and inviting atmosphere. It is the kind of place where you need to plan ahead, much like in Beirut when a new spot opens and everyone is eager to experience it.

— Did you create any artwork when you moved from Beirut to L.A.? How did the change in location influence your work?

— All my latest artwork — like the benches and the totems — are part of what I call the Palm Springs collection. I created these pieces inspired by L.A., where you see palm trees everywhere. Even the benches, the colours, and the totems — they are all reminiscent of palms. For me, they embody the essence of L.A. When I moved there a year and a half ago, this inspired me, and it led to my latest collection, which I am now continuing to develop.

— So, the benches we saw at WE Design Beirut were inspired by L.A. Why did you decide to showcase this artwork there, rather than something inspired by Beirut, for example?

— Because I am now living between two countries, I felt like when I went to L.A., I brought a piece of Beirut with me. I took a lot of my artwork, and I am represented by a gallery in L.A. that features many of my pieces, most of which are inspired by Beirut. Now, I feel like my role is to do the opposite — bring what inspires me in L.A. back to Lebanon. I think Lebanon is all about this: it is a very cosmopolitan country where everyone travels, bringing back new ideas and influences. That is why Lebanese people are so into art, jewelry, and design — we travel, we see, and we bring back.

This year, I introduced the bench, but next year, I plan to bring more pieces from the collection I have been working on. The totems are just the start. I am also working on new consoles — tables that look like they are made of rock or stone but are actually made of resin. L.A. is a desert, so it feels very dry, and that influenced my work. My pieces aren’t shiny because the weather is so dry. The colours I use reflect L.A. — the deep blue of the sky, the pure red hues, all very natural and unpolluted.

At the same time, Beirut is known as a city of light, and I realised that L.A. is also a city of light. That is where I see the connection between L.A. and Beirut — the light, the sun, the spirit. That is why I am working on a lighting collection inspired by palm trees, blending that with my background from Beirut. Even after 11 years, my connection to Lebanon remains strong. It is still a part of who I am.)

— Your website states that you embarked on the focused exploration of metal works in 2013, about 10 years ago. However, you have been creating art for over two decades. Could you tell me about your early works? How would you describe them, and how did they evolve over time?

— Sure! I studied at ALBA (Académie Libanaise des Beaux-Arts). I majored in Advertising and Fine Arts and initially went into advertising for the first three years. But I hated the advertising world — it felt like being stuck in a box, where I had to come up with ideas in a way that didn’t feel natural to me. So, I quit and started doing my own painting.

In the beginning, I worked with mixed media. My husband is an architect and has a plotter in his office, so I used to print on canvas. I would draw everything on a Wacom tablet, print it out, and then start adding my touches with oil or acrylic paint. That is how I began, and it started to grow like a small snowball. My friends were interested and started buying my work, and soon, people I didn’t even know were buying it, too. I started doing exhibitions, and I remember one of my exhibitions was in the mountains. I sold 13 paintings in three hours.

At that point, I decided to wait to give the buyers their paintings because the exhibition was supposed to last six days, and I wanted others to see the work, too. So, we kept the sold paintings on display and offered customised versions to other buyers. I worked this way for about six years before feeling the need to create something new. That is when I started incorporating metal into my work. I loved the effect of metal on the paintings. This led me to focus more on metalwork, and eventually, I opened my own workshop in Lebanon.

In Lebanon, there are great places where you can spend the whole day learning new techniques, and that is how I really got into metalwork. I shifted from painting to creating metal sculptures. I started making these small characters — the boy and girl holding a balloon in resin. This all began in 2017.

One of the boys had a balloon with the Lebanese flag, and we sold 178 of those in few months. At that time, people were feeling very patriotic, wanting to believe in Lebanon. But since then, I haven’t sold a single balloon with the Lebanese flag in the past four years. It is sad because it reflects how people no longer believe in the Lebanese flag.

That is how I started, and that collection developed over time. I made larger pieces and did a big exhibition with Lebanese designer Tony Ward. He gave me his entire studio, a beautiful, open space, where I displayed all my characters — some as big as two or three meters — almost like they were invading the space. This collection was successful for about two to three years before I needed to create something new again.

I then moved on to making sculptures like the family hug, the swords, and other pieces, expanding the collection further. Eventually, I transitioned away from paintings entirely. After the Beirut explosion, I created a collection for walls, and when I moved to L.A., I developed the Palm Springs collection.

— So, did I understand correctly, and these kids are your kids?

— Absolutely! These kids in my artwork are actually my own children — two boys and a girl. I include them in everything I create. It is personal for me, but it is also something that anyone with kids can relate to. I have worked on this collection for a long time, and all my pieces are limited editions. They are numbered, and for some of them, the edition is complete. We have done some exceptional artist signatures, but I don't make certain pieces anymore because, in a small country like ours, it is important to keep things unique. So, there is a limited edition for all my pieces.

— I have to say, when I saw the works with the red balloon — specifically the girl with the red balloon — it immediately reminded me of Banksy. 

— Banksy is one of my favourite artists. He has that iconic girl with the heart balloon, though her shape is different from the one in my work. I am very inspired by pop artists like David Hockney, Jeff Koons, and, of course, Banksy, as well as contemporary artists like Mr. Brainwash and David Kracov. It is great to see the diversity in their work. A lot of people tell me that my work reminds them of Banksy’s figures, especially the girl, and I draw a lot of inspiration from him. But beyond that, our works are quite different.

— Once you said that as a younger artist, you thought your art was about communicating your ideas. Has your perspective changed? What is your art about now?

— I always work under the same concept and umbrella: Happy Art with happy, positive messages. As an artist and a human being, I believe growing and evolving is important. Life is about change, and we shouldn't stay at the same level as when we started. I have many collectors who appreciate my art because they enjoy the story behind it and like to see how I have progressed over time. For me, staying true to the core idea of spreading positivity through my work is essential, especially in a world filled with so much negative energy. We hear sad or troubling stories every day, so we need something positive to balance that out.

In my own home, where I also collect art, I decided early on that everything in my house would be positive. I bought my first piece of art at 24 and wanted to wake up every morning, look around, and feel uplifted. Positive energy attracts more positivity, and the same goes for negative energy. It is a mindset, and it is crucial for growth.

Growth is very important to me. I started in my studio in Lebanon, and now I'm represented in 12 galleries worldwide — in South Korea, London, Paris, Miami, New York, Madrid, Los Angeles and others... This expansion is part of my growth as an artist, which I find really exciting.

— Do you remember the day when you sold your first artwork?

— Yes, I cried for two hours. The first pieces you sell are especially hard because they feel like a part of you. I remember when a guy came to my workshop and bought one of my pieces. He looked at me and asked, "Why aren't you happy?" I replied, "I don't know. I don't know how I feel, but I'm not very excited." After he left, I went to my car and cried for two hours. It felt like I was giving away something I had worked so hard on, especially because those first pieces were so personal.

Initially, it was just me with one person helping, and we spent hours and hours getting everything right. It was the boy with the balloon, and I was so focused on getting the right shape and the perfect angle. The boy stands on a steel plate, and the connection between him and the steel is very small — he has to look like he is flying but without falling over. The balloon had to be perfect. I remember reworking that balloon maybe 15 times until I got the shape exactly right. So yeah, those first pieces were really hard to sell, but eventually, you get used to it.

— You mentioned something interesting — you said that sometimes, as an artist, you feel like you have to play different roles depending on the process. Could you give some examples?

— When I create a piece, it feels like it takes a lot of energy from me. For example, the piece I made about Beirut required me to be fully immersed in that moment, feeling everything I was feeling at that time. If you asked me to recreate it now, I couldn’t do it because I had to be in that specific moment, experiencing those exact emotions, to be truly involved in the creation.

The pieces I have created in L.A., for instance, wouldn’t have come to life if I were still in Beirut. I might not have had the motivation, the ideas, or the pleasure to create them because it all depends on being in the right place at the right time and feeling what I am feeling at that moment. That is why I often have no idea when people ask me what is next. It really depends on where life takes me. Maybe I'll go on a trip and find inspiration there, or maybe something else will spark it. It is not just about living in the present moment for a day or two — it is about living with the same feeling for six or seven months and channelling that into my pieces. That is how I create.

— Last question! Does anyone among your kids want to be an artist?

— Yes, my daughter is very into art — she is even better than me! She is incredibly creative. She started making small things to sell and help people, especially kids. Last year, after a party, we had a lot of leftover wine bottles, and while I was in L.A., she asked if she could take them, spray them white, and draw on them. I told her, "Yeah, do whatever you want." She ended up selling the bottles for $25 each — they were just empty bottles that people could use as vases. She sold 20 pieces just to friends, and then she said, "You know what? All this money will go to an organisation caring for kids." She donated all the money, and they started sending her thank-you letters, telling her how it helped them buy school backpacks and supplies. She was so excited that she did it again and again. Now, she is even doing her own paintings. I’m sure she is going to go to art school. Maybe she won’t become an artist, but she’ll definitely be in the art field in some way.

You know, whenever it comes to choosing what they want to do, I always give the same advice to kids: just do something you really love. My entourage didn’t encourage me to pursue fine art — they told me I should go into media because they thought I wouldn’t find a job with fine art. Luckily, I managed to do both because I could handle both paths. But what I want to say is that if you do something you truly enjoy, you will succeed.