©Julia Grandperret

French dancer, choreographer, and director Marion Motin has established herself as a leading figure in contemporary choreography. She began her career as a dancer, notably with Angelin Preljocaj, before joining Madonna on the MDNA tour in 2012. She then became the choreographer for numerous international artists, including Stromae, Christine and the Queens, Angèle, Dua Lipa, and Catherine Ringer. Her own creations, such as " Narcissus " and " The Hungry Ones ," are presented on major French stages and explore social issues such as self-image, social media, and social divisions. Her performances blend dance, music, theater, and storytelling, in a style influenced by hip-hop, film, and popular culture. Connected to the elements, driven by a contagious energy and a sensual aesthetic, Marion Motin shares her current inspirations with us . A portrait of an artist at the peak of her creativity. Let's follow her!

1/ A “Walking Man” by Alberto Giacometti

“My first encounter with Giacometti’s ‘ Walking Man ’ dates back to my childhood, at the Maeght Foundation, near Saint-Paul-de-Vence. I was little and, at the time, I didn’t really like going to museums. My parents insisted, and they were right. I found myself face to face with this sculpture. A visual shock that has never left me. Giacometti is part of my DNA. A true Proustian madeleine. I remember the sensations as much as the work itself: the light, the pine trees, the surrounding nature, the scents of Provence. Everything was imprinted on me. When I look at this sculpture, I don’t just see a man in motion. I have the impression of seeing a people appear, as if they were emerging from the forest or the mountain to come and convey something essential to us. They are moving towards us, or towards the horizon, with a message from another time.” A memory that must not be forgotten if we want to continue caring for the world. That's also why I deeply believe in the power of art. It's a form of resistance. It keeps us awake, connects us to one another, and invites us to see the world in a new light. When a work of art is sincere, it conveys much more than an idea: it circulates an emotion, a vision. It's a form of invisible communication, and it's profoundly magical.

2/ Valentine Schlegel, Casa Lagomar…

“I’m fascinated by organic architecture with rounded forms, whitewashed, like the kind you find in Lanzarote, Ibiza, Greece, or even North Africa with tadelakt. I could look at them for hours. There’s something profoundly soothing about these volumes. Their gentleness reassures me, makes me feel safe. This attraction is so strong that I brought it into my own home. In Normandy, I re-limed all the walls and created rounded shapes. What inspires me most is the organic nature of this architecture. I could spend entire days leafing through books about these houses, whether they’re in Mexico, Ibiza, or Greece. I also think of the work of the sculptor and ceramicist Valentine Schlegel. With her plaster fireplaces, she completely redefines interior spaces. I find it both luminous, because everything is white, but also incredibly free and bold.” It's the same feeling I get when I see Casa Lagomar in Lanzarote, the house carved into the rock where Omar Sharif lived. For me, they are true works of art. They could be sets for a play or a film. And yet, people live in them. They immediately spark the imagination.

©Julia Grandperret

My dream would be to create a stage set in a place like this. What moves me most is that there's something alive about it. It's an architecture born from the earth. The forms adapt to the site before asserting themselves. Even the cave dwellings give this impression: that of an elegant presence that blends naturally into the landscape.

3/ The cactus dream

“If there’s one family of plants that instantly makes me dream, it’s cacti. As soon as I see them, I feel like I’m in a movie, somewhere between Arizona, Mexico, or South America. I think of Emir Kusturica’s film ‘ Arizona Dream .’ And I get that feeling of being transported to a film set. My imagination travels instantly. I can be in Morocco, Spain, the south of France… or Corsica, where they’re everywhere and where I find them magnificent. What I love about cacti is that they’re simultaneously alive, organic, and profoundly architectural. They have something sculptural, graphic about them. They’re almost works of art that you can bring into a garden or a house. And then they also tell a story about our times. I plant a lot of them at home in Normandy. A few years ago, that would have seemed incongruous.” Today, with the lack of water, I know they'll thrive there. Ultimately, it ties in with everything that inspires me in the landscapes and architecture of North Africa, and particularly Marrakech and Morocco. I find this aesthetic endlessly inspiring. There are the shapes, of course, but also the smells. This whole world nourishes me and takes me on a journey.

4/ The taste of the night

“Night is undoubtedly the time of day that inspires me the most. I love arriving in Marrakech, for example, after sunset. The air is still warm, but it mingles with the aromas of spices and cooking. It’s a unique, sensual scent. Everything makes you want to stay outside, to chat, to prolong the evening. Warm nights give me an immense feeling of freedom. I find this world profoundly sensual. After the heat of the street, there’s the coolness of the houses. The shutters are closed, the windows open. You’re in the twilight, sheltered from the heat, while knowing that outside, the light, the sounds, and life go on. This feeling of being protected without being confined, I find it incredibly seductive. There is, once again, a form of freedom. If these memories affect me so deeply, it’s because I’m a profoundly sensory person. Smells, colors, sounds, textures matter enormously to me.” I am very sensitive to what I see, what I feel, but also to what I hear. One might think that these sensations are far removed from my work as a choreographer. In reality, they are its raw material.

©Benoite Fanton for the show "Narcissus"

Choreography is merely a tool for telling a story. My creations always stem from an emotional state. I construct emotional journeys. Before creating a movement, I need to know what I'm conveying, what my inner state is, what I'm feeling. Is it a story of day or night? Summer or winter? It is from this sensitive material that my choreographies are then born. This feeling of refuge also permeates " The Hungry Ones ," the show I created last May at the Théâtre du Châtelet. In it, I recount my fears about our era through a brutalist steel set design, softened by a steaming bathtub: for me, the warmth of a bath has become the symbol of a fragile luxury, that of a world I sometimes fear is disappearing.

5/ The rhythm of the tides

“I was born in Coutainville, in the Manche department (at the northern end of the Bay of Mont Saint-Michel). Since I was a little girl, the bay has been my inner landscape. As soon as I return, I feel almost instantly recharged. My garden, the beach, these immense expanses where the horizon seems to stretch on forever… All of this puts me in my place. Facing the high tides, the wind, the full moon, I feel infinitely small. And yet, paradoxically, I feel fully connected to everything around me, like an atom belonging to a much larger whole. It's humbling. At low tide, the bay sometimes resembles another planet. A vast, mineral, and humid expanse that reminds me of the landscapes in the film “ Interstellar ” or of Mars. But this space also demands attention. The tides come in quickly; you have to read the landscape, understand where the sun is, know if the sea is rising or falling, choose your path, respect the animals, go around the sheep, observe the birds. This understanding of the living world seems essential to me.” Today, we disconnect from our environment too often. There, we can't. We have to learn to live with it, and I find that deeply calming.

©Jasmine Bannister for the show "Narcissus"

I believe this relationship with the bay also shapes my way of thinking about dance. Nothing there is ever still. The tides constantly transform the landscape, just as our emotions constantly flow through us. For me, dance isn't a succession of beautiful postures. It's the expression of an inner movement. We are constantly traversed by tides, storms, calms, full moons. I find in my body the rhythms I observe in nature. There's also the question of rhythm. I'm a very active person, almost hyperactive, and I often try to tame this energy. There are moments when everything vibrates intensely within me, and then others when, like the sea at low tide, I finally find calm. I love this alternation. It reminds me that nothing is fixed, neither in the landscape nor within us.

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