This is the story of a girl who somehow manages to fit about five different lives into one person. First of all, she is a digital artist — though very deeply connected to music as well. She is a freelancer, but also a growing content creator whose immersive home installations collect millions of views online. She even has a medical background — and honestly, two years of medical school is hardly a casual side quest. And on top of all that, she is also the founder of two different communities.

So yes, Karen Beyrouty is definitely not the easiest person to describe in one sentence.

And honestly, that is exactly why this conversation ended up becoming much bigger than just talking about art. Somewhere between projection mapping, community building, career changes and accidentally turning her own apartment into an immersive installation, we also ended up talking a lot about identity, risk, creativity and the strange process of figuring yourself out along the way.

So this is probably one of those interviews where everyone finds something for themselves — whether you are into art, thinking about starting your own project, or secretly questioning your entire career path while reading this.

— It feels like creativity was around you from a very young age. What kind of environment did you grow up in?

— Creativity was always part of my life from a very young age, mostly because of my mum. Like many parents, she encouraged me to try different activities as a child, but somehow two things stayed with me all the way through: music and art. I started playing the piano when I was around three and a half, and not long after that drawing and painting became just as important to me.

Looking back now, it is quite emotional to realise how much those two worlds shaped the person I became. Music built my connection to rhythm and sound, while drawing taught me how to visualise ideas and turn feelings into something physical and visible.

And then from my dad, I inherited something completely different but equally important — discipline and work ethic. He is an incredibly hardworking person, and I definitely got that side from him as well.

— From what I understand, your mother comes from quite a creative background connected to music. Is that true?

— What is quite funny is that neither of my parents actually came from artistic backgrounds. My dad is in business, and my mum was mostly on the business side as well, but back in the late 1990s and early 2000s she co-owned a recording studio in Beirut.

So even though creativity wasn't technically “the family profession”, it was still a huge part of my environment growing up. My mum used to take me to the studio all the time, and apparently the first time I ever went there I was only 17 days old. I still have a picture from that moment. She had basically just left the hospital and decided to bring me straight to work.

I grew up surrounded by instruments, huge sound mixers, singers recording tracks and musicians constantly coming in and out of the studio. My mum also really encouraged me creatively. Piano lessons, drawing — she always pushed me to properly explore these things rather than treating them as little hobbies you eventually grow out of.

And one of my favourite stories is that apparently when I was around six months old, my voice somehow ended up on one of the songs they were recording in the studio. Ever since I found out about that, we have both been trying to track the song down online, but to this day she still hasn't managed to find it.

— You describe yourself as a digital artist, but it feels like what you do goes far beyond that. What does your work actually look like today?

— Honestly, I still struggle to describe myself with just one title because I do a bit of everything, but somehow it all exists within the same creative world. My background is in visual and communication design, and that shaped not only the visual side of my work, but also the way I think about storytelling, emotions and experiences.

Part of what I do is more design-focused — graphic design, creative direction, content and visual strategy for clients. But another huge part of my work lives in immersive experiences: projections, mapping, installations, lighting and creating environments that people can physically step into and experience.

Sometimes that means operating visuals for clubs, festivals and events. Other times it means building immersive spaces or exhibitions where people walk into a room and feel something emotionally as much as visually.

What I probably enjoy most is that balance between technology, music and visual art. I am honestly quite nerdy when it comes to animation systems, technical processes and design tools, but at the same time I am also very people-oriented. I genuinely enjoy bringing people together and creating spaces where people can connect through creativity.

And honestly, since fully moving into the creative field, I realised how true that cliché actually is — when you genuinely love what you do, work feels completely different. Of course there are stressful days and moments of exhaustion, but underneath all of that there is still excitement. You wake up wanting to create.

— One thing that really surprised me while researching your story was discovering that you originally studied medicine. How did that happen?

— Honestly, medicine genuinely felt like the right direction for me at the time. I was a strong student academically and I genuinely loved biology. People who know me now probably wouldn't imagine me as someone who actually enjoyed school and studied all the time, but I really did.

And also, growing up in Lebanon, creative careers were often seen as risky. Not because people didn't respect art, but because they wanted stability and security for you. So careers like medicine, law or engineering were usually viewed as the safer and more responsible path.

At that stage of my life, medicine made sense to me. I even remember thinking about specialising in dermatology because somehow, even there, I was still searching for a connection to aesthetics and creativity. Looking back now, it is actually quite funny that even inside medicine my brain was still thinking artistically.

— Was there a specific moment when you realised medicine wasn't for you anymore?

— Yes. I remember having this moment where I suddenly projected myself maybe ten years into the future and realised: this isn't the life I want for myself. I knew I was capable of doing it, but I couldn't imagine myself genuinely happy in that reality.

And later in life I understood something important — being good at something doesn't necessarily mean it is meant for you. Every career eventually asks you to go beyond the bare minimum. You have to give it extra energy, time and emotional investment, and it is very difficult to do that when you are not deeply connected to what you are doing.

I stayed in medicine for two years, even though honestly I probably knew within the first month that it wasn't right for me. But at the same time, I didn't want to make an impulsive decision and suddenly move into something random just because I felt lost.

So during those two years, I explored everything I could. I took electives in psychology, nutrition, business, marketing. And somehow, after a very long authorisation process, I even managed to take design classes alongside my medical studies.

And I still remember the first time I walked into that design classroom. It might sound dramatic, but I genuinely felt a sense of peace I hadn't felt in a very long time. That was the moment I realised: okay, this is my place. This is what I actually want to do.

After that, I started researching where I wanted to take this path more seriously, and eventually that journey led me all the way to Milan, where I ended up studying visual design.

— Do you feel those years studying medicine still influence both your creative work and the way you approach life today?

— Honestly, yes. A lot of the animations and visual work I create today are quite abstract, yet they often revolve around organic systems, particles, cell-like forms, movement and structures that almost feel biological. I don't consciously sit there thinking, “I’m referencing medicine right now,” but I do think those visual influences stayed with me somewhere.

At the same time, animation itself is far more technical and scientific than people often imagine. When you work with particles, fluids or 3D environments, there is a huge amount of physics involved. You need to understand movement, gravity, how objects interact with one another, how water behaves and how systems move within space. So in a strange way, that analytical way of thinking never really left me either.

But honestly, I think medicine shaped me emotionally even more than creatively.

Those two years forced me to become very honest with myself. When you constantly feel like you aren't in the right place, eventually you are forced to stop and ask yourself difficult questions: Who am I actually? What kind of life do I want? Who do I want to become? And as simple as those questions sound, a lot of people spend years avoiding them.

I think that period also taught me to become a little rebellious in a healthy way — not rebellious for the sake of it, but in the sense of standing by what I genuinely believe in and what feels right to me. Of course it is challenging. There are failures, missed opportunities, moments of doubt and instability. But at the same time, there is also a lot to gain from it.

And honestly, I think the biggest reward is simply feeling like you are on the right path in life. That feeling is very difficult to explain, but once you feel aligned with what you are doing, a lot of the fear becomes easier to carry.

— Your immersive home installation series on Instagram has been growing really quickly recently. How did the idea for it actually begin?

— Honestly, the whole series started from a very personal reflection I had with myself towards the end of 2025. I had spent so much energy trying to stabilise my freelance career — which every freelancer has to do in the beginning — that I slowly realised I had drifted away from creating purely for myself. Most of my time was going into client briefs, deadlines and commercial work, and at one point I stopped and thought: wait, where did that excitement go?

The person I had become in 2025 felt very different from who I was when I lived in Milan as a student. Back then, I used to spend hours in my tiny studio simply experimenting, discovering things and creating for no reason other than curiosity. So going into 2026, I told myself I wanted to reconnect with that side of myself again — not just the freelancer side, but the artist side as well.

And then, quite ironically, the series itself started while I was back home in Beirut. I got sick and ended up spending a lot of time at home, so I naturally began playing around with projections again. When I came back to Dubai, I continued experimenting.

That was really the moment the whole idea clicked for me. I thought: if I don't currently have a huge physical space where I can fully experiment, then why not transform my own home into one?

So I started creating these installations at home, filming them and posting them online. One video led to another, and eventually one of them suddenly exploded. I think people were probably also searching for some sort of inspiration or escape at the time, and that encouraged me to keep going.

At the same time, I realised how much harder it actually is to create content for yourself. When you work for clients, there is always a clear brief. But when it is your own work, you overthink everything because it feels personal. Still, I told myself not to stand in my own way and to just keep creating.

— So basically, what you are doing through these installations is projection mapping. Can you explain a little more about how it actually works and what the process looks like for you?

— Projection mapping is basically the process of adapting visuals to a physical surface so that the object itself becomes part of the artwork. What I love about it is that you can completely transform a space without physically changing or damaging anything, because everything exists digitally.

Usually, everything starts with an idea. I sketch a lot before anything else. Even with the installations I create at home, I first choose a corner, an object or a surface and then start imagining different possibilities around it. Sometimes it is just a wall, a washing machine or a random corner of the room, and I begin thinking about how projections could completely change the feeling of that space.

Once I have the concept, I start building the animations themselves — the visuals, colours, movement and overall atmosphere. Then comes the actual mapping process. The mesh grid people often see at the beginning of my videos is basically the calibration stage. It is where I digitally define the dimensions, shape and perspective of the object or space so the visuals align properly in real life.

But honestly, a huge part of the process is experimentation. Every surface reacts differently to light, texture and movement. Sometimes adding smoke completely changes the atmosphere of the space. Sometimes an animation that looked perfect on the computer suddenly feels completely wrong once projected onto a wall.

And that is probably what I love most about projection mapping — you never fully know how something is going to feel until you physically see it in front of you.

It really sits somewhere between technology and illusion. Technically, you are working with software, systems and precision, but emotionally you are trying to create something immersive that genuinely makes people feel something.

— How long can one installation actually take to create?

— It really depends on the scale.

A smaller installation at home can sometimes take just a few hours between sketching, animating and mapping everything out. But larger immersive projects for festivals or outdoor spaces can take days, weeks or even months because there is so much testing, adjusting and experimenting involved throughout the process.

— Out of all the installations you have worked on, is there one that feels especially important to you or that you are particularly proud of?

— “Favourite” is a very difficult word for me when it comes to installations, because every project carries its own character, atmosphere, context and energy. Some stay with me because of the concept itself, others because of the people involved, the location or simply the moment in life when they happened.

But I think one project I will always remember was actually the very first festival installation I ever worked on. Looking back now, it was probably one of the simplest things I have done technically, but emotionally it meant a lot because it was my first real experience working in that kind of environment. It happened somewhere between Lyon and the Swiss border, almost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by incredible artists and people. And I think sometimes the experience itself becomes part of why a project stays with you for so long.

Another installation I really loved was an immersive audiovisual experience we created for XP Music Futures with MDLBEAST. I worked on it together with my creative partner, who is an architect, and the whole idea was to build an interactive space where people themselves became part of the artwork.

It was basically a multi-room installation filled with instruments — pianos, drums and different interactive elements. Whenever someone played an instrument, it would activate the visuals and lighting around them. So if someone touched the piano, projections would suddenly appear across the walls and objects in the room. When someone played the drums, lasers and lights would react in real time.

What I loved most about that project was that it was never exactly the same twice. It depended entirely on the people inside the space — how they moved, interacted and expressed themselves. Every person changed the atmosphere differently, so each experience became completely unique.

I also really loved one installation we created in Dubai with a Lebanese collective during an event at Helipad. We built this huge mesh circle suspended above the stage and projected onto it so it almost looked like a vortex floating in the middle of the space. Visually it was beautiful, but again, for me it always comes back to the feeling and concept behind the work rather than just how it looks technically.

— Apart from your work as a digital artist and creative director, you also run several completely different community projects. One I really loved discovering was Club After Six. Can you tell me a bit about it?

— When I lived in Italy, I walked everywhere all the time, so I became very used to building my daily life around walking through the city. Then I moved to Dubai, and everyone kept telling me: “Nobody walks in this city.”

But I never fully agreed with that idea. I genuinely felt that Dubai has a lot of walkable areas — you just have to experience the city differently and be willing to explore it a bit more.

So one day I basically decided to prove everyone wrong. I posted a story saying something like: “I’m going to start doing 10k-step walks every week in different areas of Dubai. If anyone wants to join, let me know.” And I got so many replies that I suddenly thought: okay… maybe this could become something bigger.

And because branding and community-building already felt very natural to me through my creative work, I instinctively approached it the same way I would approach a project for a client. That was really how Club After Six started.

The name comes from the idea of “after work” — encouraging people to leave the house after work instead of automatically falling into that routine of going home exhausted and feeling like life revolves entirely around work. At the beginning it really was just about walking, but over time it naturally evolved into something much bigger — more of a social and cultural community.

And honestly, I think walking was the perfect starting point because it is such a low-pressure way for people to connect. Some people come and quietly do their 10,000 steps without speaking much, while others end up meeting new people, starting conversations and building real friendships. There is no pressure to socialise in a certain way, which I think makes people feel comfortable quite quickly.

What genuinely surprised me was how quickly the community grew. It started in February 2025, and now there are already a thousand people involved.

But what I love most is that it slowly became about much more than walking itself. We now collaborate with music events, creative communities, wellness brands, food concepts and business initiatives — all sorts of different worlds. That is why I always say it feels much more like a social club than simply a walking club.

For me, the idea was always about showing people that life can feel much bigger and more inspiring once you start exploring what is actually around you. And in a way, I think I am simply trying to recreate the same openness and sense of community that helped me so much when I was younger.