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The nose. Literally the centre of the face. It’s the feature we can’t seem to escape, whether it’s staring back at us in the mirror or being commented on by everyone and their mother. For many Arabs, the nose is more than just a facial feature; it’s an obsession. Larger noses, often considered part of our ethnic identity, are seen by some as a deviation from the “ideal” smaller nose, which has been widely idealized by Western beauty standards. Rhinoplasty clinics in the region thrive on the demand for “the perfect nose,” especially among Arab women, who often find themselves yearning for a nose that fits the mold of global beauty standards. But, as Lebanese artist Nasrallah A. (@nasra11a) can attest, the same desire for a nose transplant can also be found in Arab men.
At 18 years old, Nasrallah found himself at a crossroads, where insecurity and self-doubt led him to believe that a nose job was the only way to change his life. “Back in 2020, I was dealing with insecurities, and I felt that a nose job is the only solution to my problem,” he tells me. “I already had reference pictures in my album and had chosen my doctor in Turkey.”
But before he went under the knife (thankfully), Nasrallah did what any artist might do when confronted with self-doubt: he turned to his art. Drawing has always been therapeutic for him, so, instead of following through with the rhinoplasty, he started drawing his nose. He transformed his once-hated feature into something beautiful, a tool for self-reflection. “I felt like I made art of something that I used to hate,” he explains. “I perceived myself differently because I saw myself as a whole. It wasn’t like I was looking into the mirror and thinking, ‘Am I ugly?’ I was looking at my art and I felt like, okay, this is my art. My art is nice.”
In a sense, Nasrallah became both the artist and the muse, and in doing so, he began to explore his features with a newfound appreciation. His nose became a subject of intrigue and a source of endless creativity. Soon, he began incorporating it into his work, both as a central geometric form and as an exaggerated feature within stylised portraits. He even began placing it in unconventional contexts, namely in food.
Food, particularly in Arab culture, is a big thing. Almost as big as our noses. (Forgive the pun.) Nasrallah quickly realised that his love for it might just intersect with his creative journey. One day, as his mother prepared basbousa, he had an epiphany. “I saw the almond, and I was like, wait, it’s kind of shaped like a nose.” And thus, his first surrealist yet playful sculpture was born, the “Nose Basbousa.” From there, the Nose Series grew, incorporating everyday foods like labneh, olives, dried figs, and even cereal.
The Nose Series has two distinct parts: one where the noses appear embedded in food, and another where the noses are rendered in abstract patterns, some inspired by keffiyehs, others by Persian carpet designs. Using drying sculpting clay, acrylic paints, and round canvases as “plates,” Nasrallah creates noses that aren’t necessarily based on his own, but instead, evolve organically. There’s no formula and no mold to follow. The only rule: they can never be noses conform to the standard Western beauty ideal.
In working on the series, Nasrallah experienced an unexpected revelation, one that transcended mere aesthetics. He realised that our noses, much like the rest of our features, are part of a deep-rooted heritage. They’re part of our ancestry, and even with a rhinoplasty, our kids will have our ex-noses. “No matter how much you change your facial features, your kids are going to have the same features,” he says. “My grandfather has my exact same nose. My grandfather is actually such an important figure to my mother.” The reverence for his grandfather’s legacy, coupled with his mother’s adoration for him, prompted Nasrallah to reconsider the idea of altering his own nose. “My mother always speaks about him, and I feel like he’s so deeply loved by her,” he explains. “Why should I change an aspect of my facial features that is so loved by her?”
It seems that the nose, in all its cultural, familial, and emotional complexity, is far more than a mere feature of the face. It’s a symbol of who we are, where we come from, and what we carry forward into the future. And sometimes, the nose knows best.
