The long climb from war to freedom July 17, 2013 12:32 AM By India Stoughton The Daily Star BEIRUT: Inside the Yellow House, time has been frozen. Standing at the chaotic intersection of the Damascus Road and Independence Street, the Barakat Building – its proper name – is halfway through the renovation process that will transform the once-gracious structure into Beit Beirut – part museum, part memorial. The ground and first floors of the Barakat Building were built by Youssef Aftimos in 1924. A young architect named Fouad Kozah added the top two stories in 1932. The first residential building to be designed and built by architects, it is a unique piece of the city’s heritage, explains Youssef Haidar, the architect in charge of the renovation project. Erected in a transitional period, the house is a unique blend of styles. The lower floors combine Ottoman and Modernist features, while the upper stories incorporate elements of art deco and make use of the versatility of reinforced concrete, introduced when Kozah took over. Beit Barakat was scheduled for demolition in 1997 and for the past 16 years architect and conservationist Mona el-Hallak has campaigned to save it from destruction. With the help of ex-governor Yacoub Sarraf she convinced Beirut Municipality to expropriate the house in 2003, and she continues to play a role in its future. The empty first floor of Beit Beirut has been virtually untouched since the end of the Civil War. The building bears the scars of its central role in the conflict, dictated by its strategic position on the former Green Line and its profusion of windows and open balconies, which gave snipers line of sight in most every direction. The walls are pitted with bullet holes, the ceilings blackened with smoke. Faint traces of a beautifully painted border of grapevines remind visitors that this was once a residential building for bourgeois Beirut. The peeling paint is now overlaid with scrawled graffiti, the confessions of the snipers who worked from here for close to 17 years. “I want to speak the truth – my soul has become disgusting,” reads one legend in messy spray paint. A play on words, it can also be read as “my soul has disappeared in a moment.” In the bathrooms – its tiles cracked, sinks long since vanished – traces of the sniper’s den remain. Using household doors to shield themselves from return fire, the men created narrow slits through which to shoot. From one vantage, a bullet could cross a courtyard and a room – through one window and out another – before finding a distant target. Walking these rooms is a sobering experience, at once fascinating and harrowing. This, Haidar says, is how the finished museum will look. With technical assistance from Paris Municipality, his team is ensuring that the building is structurally sound and earthquake resistant, and that it does not deteriorate further. The facade and interior, however, will remain as is, bullet holes, snipers’ dens and all. Gaps in the facade have been filled with stainless steel beams – prosthetics, as Haidar terms them, so that any additions are immediately obvious. “The building quickly began to seem like a living human being,” Haidar explains. “It’s someone that has his history, his memory, traces, like each and every one of us Lebanese has these wounds – hidden or apparent. ... Read more: dailystar.lb/Culture/Art/2013/Jul-17/223919-the-long-climb-from-war-to-freedom.ashx#ixzz2ZNc9RSYc
Posted on: Thu, 18 Jul 2013 07:28:29 +0000