10 Questions with Aurore Monteil
Graduated in Architecture from ENSA Paris-Val de Seine (2023), and trained in azulejo painting in Lisbon (Creazul, 2022) as well as in ceramics (Sedimento, 2022), Aurore Monteil develops a multidisciplinary artistic practice rooted in architecture, conceived not only as a discipline of construction but as a sensitive, vibrational, and universal language. Her work explores the impact of materials, forms, and spaces on both body and mind, unveiling the invisible frequencies that connect individuals to their environment.
Her medium of choice, the painted azulejo, occupies a central place in her practice. Heirs to a centuries-old tradition, these glazed ceramic tiles become, under her brush, resonant surfaces capable of capturing and diffusing their own energy. Each panel is conceived as a miniature architecture, designed in situ for the site and its users, arising from a thorough study of the vibrations of the place, its history, and the intimate relationship that the work can weave with its recipient. Public commissions, bespoke creations, and research projects intertwine to transform Monteilβs azulejos into both aesthetic and spiritual devices, capable of turning space into an immersive and vibrational experience.
Architecture forms the backbone of her practice. It is not confined to a disciplinary framework but structures and connects the entirety of her explorations β painting, ceramics, performance, dance, and installation. Movement and dance become tools of spatial and energetic investigation, while ceramics, with its elemental materiality, grounds her in a tactile and physical experience of the world. This cross-disciplinary approach nourishes a reflection where art and architecture converge to question the visible and the invisible, the built and the lived, the intellectual and the sensory.
Aurore Monteil - Portrait
In 2024, she completed Vita Esteree, a public commission within the framework of the French Ministry of Cultureβs 1 Building, 1 Artwork program. This large-scale in situ piece, located at the heart of a residential hall, explores fluidity and the elevation of consciousness, revealing the auras of two saints of Chelles β Bathilde and Bertille β through etched lines and meditative blues. Conceived as both a visual and emotional landmark, Vita Esteree embodies the power of art to humanise architecture and strengthen the connection between inhabitants and their environment.
Her work has received increasing recognition. Winner of the Γle-de-France Regional Prize of the Ateliers dβArt de France Competition 2025 (Heritage category), she is exhibiting at the MusΓ©e de la Toile de Jouy until May 2025. She was represented by the gallery We Artisan at the Paris Fair 2024, and is preparing several international exhibitions: the Women in Art London Biennale (Chelsea Old Town Hall, September 2025) and Root Unseen at the CICA Museum (Incheon, South Korea, October 2025).
In parallel, she founded 4A Studio in 2024, a multidisciplinary research and creation laboratory where she continues her investigations into the vibrational frequencies of materials and the role of azulejos as carriers of energy and memory.
Her practice is guided by a profound conviction: every material, every surface, every form carries its own vibrational frequency, capable of influencing well-being and inner harmony. Through her works, Monteil seeks to reveal and amplify these frequencies, offering the viewer an experience where intellect, body, and the invisible come into resonance. Based between Paris and Lisbon, she situates her practice in a constant dialogue between heritage and contemporaneity, architectural rigour and artistic freedom, tradition and vision. Her azulejos, both memory and projection, become thresholds, spaces of passage, inviting us to inhabit differently both space and ourselves.
Artist on the artwork Vita Esteree, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 184 cm x 286 cm, 2024 Β© Aurore Monteil
INTERVIEW
Please tell us about your journey from studying architecture to developing your multidisciplinary artistic practice.
I remember the sound of my heartbeat resonating through my grandfatherβs stethoscope, professor of internal medicine. I remember the organisms moving under the microscope, the X-rays transforming the bodyβs interior into a landscape. From him, I inherited an early fascination with what lies beneath the surface of the visible: a vibrant, ever-moving world where the infinitely small converses with the infinitely vast. Through his eyes, I understood that the body is not merely a biological mechanism but a living space, traversed by forces.
This sensitivity deepened with my own body, hyperacusis, hypermnesia, a heightened physical sensitivity, conditions that made me porous to the world, receptive to resonances I could not yet name. What could have been a vulnerability became a field of exploration, like the experience of healing transmuted into an intimate knowledge inscribed in the flesh.
Architecture emerged as an intuition in childhood, though I took time before diving fully into it. What attracted me was not a profession, but a language, one capable of connecting all my curiosities. And that is what I found: a discipline already profoundly multidisciplinary. Structure, physics, anthropology, visual arts, history, mathematics, this constellation of knowledge nourished in me the conviction that spatial understanding lies at the intersection of rigour and sensitivity, science and intuition.
Yet I longed for direct contact with matter, with gesture, with fire. It was in Portugal, in 2022, within the ateliers of Lisbon, that I found that grounding. Painting on azulejos and working with ceramics reconnected me to the hand, to transformation as a spiritual act. Observing clay change under fire, watching colours metamorphose in the glaze, all echoed my own inner processes of transformation. The azulejos became for me vibratory membranes, resonant surfaces that transcend their decorative function to become true vectors of energy.
At the same time, I was exploring the body and the immaterial through ecstatic dance, life drawing, meditation, shamanism, and Buddhism. These practices opened a philosophical framework that expanded my vision of both architecture and art, revealing matter as a network of invisible currents that move through and within us.
From this journey emerged 4A Studio, conceived as a studio-laboratory, a place where architecture, art, and craftsmanship engage in dialogue with spirituality and the vibratory realm. There, I develop an undivided practice: painting on azulejos and canvas, performance, dance, sculpture, each becoming a different layer of understanding.
A pivotal milestone in this approach was Vita Esteree, a public in-situ commission. I sought to translate the siteβs history and the inhabitantsβ energy into a visual language: engraved lines as flows, meditative blues as states of consciousness. This project confirmed for me the power of azulejos as vibratory interfaces, capable of humanising architecture and generating a sense of belonging.
Today, I continue this path between Paris and Lisbon, guided by a simple conviction: architecture, art, craft, and spirituality are not separate worlds. Together, they open the possibility of inhabiting differently, in resonance with the immaterial forces that shape our lives, and of inventing new forms of presence in the world.
Aurele's Aura, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 40 cm x 60 cm, 2025 Β© Aurore Monteil
How does your background in architecture continue to shape the way you approach your artworks today?
I consider architecture as a matrix of thought, a way of articulating forces, linking the detail to the whole, and giving form to what moves through us. Whether Iβm creating an azulejo panel, a performance, or even a shared encounter, I always perceive it as a space to be built and inhabited.
My architectural training taught me a discipline of perception: to observe, to analyse, to translate an intuition into a drawing, a gesture, a material form. This layered way of thinking, from micro-detail to global experience, still structures my practice today. It taught me to weave together objective data and intimate perception.
Another essential legacy is the relationship between body and space. Every work is, to me, a miniature architecture that engages the viewer, through their gaze, their memory, and their physical position in relation to the piece. Dance extends this relationship: it teaches me to read space through movement, just as architecture taught me to trace it through the plan.
Attention to materials completes this learning. In architecture, materials are chosen for their density, their light, and their acoustics. In my artistic practice, I add another layer, their energetic dimension. Each material carries a vibration, a memory. Azulejos are a perfect example: they become resonant surfaces, in dialogue with the place and the people who pass through it.
Finally, Iβve retained a contextual approach: no work exists in isolation. It only takes on meaning through its anchoring, in its site, its history, its use. This posture, inherited from architecture, allows me to conceive my panels not as decorative objects but as living structures capable of transforming the perception of a place.
Thus, architecture remains the skeleton of my work, an internal language that orders my perceptions and supports my explorations.
What first drew you to the tradition of azulejo painting, and how did your training in Lisbon influence your practice?
My calling for the tileβs tradition was born from a spontaneous, almost childlike sense of wonder that instantly transformed into artistic intuition. Confronted with these patterned, coloured surfaces, I felt a revelation: each tile, with its tiny imperfections, formed a cell within a living organism, and their repetition created a kind of breath. I suddenly found myself wondering: βWhere does this wild idea of covering everything with tiles come from?β That curiosity marked the beginning of a lasting commitment, one that has never left me.
I quickly understood that the azulejo was far more than an ornament. It is a second skin for architecture, a vibratory surface that transforms a wall into a sensitive landscape. This discovery resonated deeply with my own research: how can matter, beyond its physical properties, emit energy and alter the bodyβs experience of space?
My immersion in Lisbon was decisive. At Creazul, I learned the discipline of the gesture and the slow rhythm of painting on majolica; at Sedimento, ceramics brought me back to earth and to fire. These technical learnings became meditative practices, each stage revealing an intimate dialogue between matter and spirit.
This training also immersed me in a culture where the azulejo belongs to everyday life, from baroque façades to humble interiors. I came to see it as a universal language connecting architecture, light, the body, and collective memory. Since then, this medium has become central to my practice, enriched by my multidisciplinary approach. The art of fire is a field of infinite experimentation, a source of wonder that never ceases to renew itself.
Recently, I published a catalogue bringing together my research and proposals, photomontages, monumental frescoes, furniture and objects conceived as vibratory surfaces. Far from the clichΓ© of repetitive tiling, I explore the azulejo as a living material, capable of reflecting frequencies, presences, and movement. This work also extends a theoretical research that began with my architectural thesis: rethinking the place of this ancestral art in the 21st century.
Today, the azulejo is for me more than a heritage; it is a contemporary matrix where tradition and innovation converge. What began as aesthetic fascination has become a path of creation and thought, linking my training as an architect to my vision as an artist, and one that continues to unfold.
Nathalie's Aura, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 40 cm x 60 cm, 2024 Β© Aurore Monteil
Ethereal Symphony, Enamels painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 60 cm x 80 cm, 2025 Β© Aurore Monteil
You work with painting, ceramics, performance, dance, and installation. How do these different media connect in your creative process?
All my practices converse like the voices of a single polyphony. They continually lead me toward new explorations and compel me to remain awake, in motion, in a state of constant experimentation. This openness prevents me from being confined to any one medium; instead, it allows energy to circulate freely between different forms of creation. It also nurtures a receptivity to encounters and collaborations still unimaginable today, because every new discipline I explore becomes a threshold toward another.
Painting and ceramics root me in long durations, a time of patience, of attention to the materialβs accidents, while dance and performance open me to the immediacy of gesture, to the sudden passage of energy through the body. Their meeting point is the body itself: both instrument of creation and vessel of perception.
Each medium activates its own frequency, and it is their interlacing that gives coherence to my work. I donβt seek to rank these languages, but to listen to what each reveals in the present moment. Together, they compose a vibratory architecture, a living resonance in which the viewer, by finding their own place within it, contributes to and nourishes the work through their emotional presence.
Your practice often speaks about the vibrational energy of materials and spaces, as you mention in your statement. How do you explore or translate these invisible frequencies into your artworks?
Exploring and translating frequencies is the guiding thread of my practice. To do so, I weave together multiple disciplines, intuitive dance, spiritual traditions, physical and chemical sciences, and energy medicine, and seek to let them converge within the work, where the immaterial becomes tangible.
For instance, the activation of Kundalini taught me that the body is not merely a tool, but a receiver and transmitter of waves. Gesture, breath, and presence become vectors of consciousness capable of manifesting images, colours, and forms, as if an inner cartography were being revealed. This experience echoes other practices such as reiki, magnetism, or Amazonian rituals, which understand illness as a vibrational imbalance and art as a path of harmonisation. MahΔyΔna Buddhism deepens this understanding through the notions of emptiness, radical interdependence, and impermanence.
This spiritual dimension is inseparable, for me, from science. Acoustic physics has confirmed what I have always intuited, that everything is wave, that vibration organises matter.
In my work, I do not see colour merely as pigment but as frequency. It acts directly on the body and psyche, as explored in chromatherapy. Each hue becomes a revealed vibration, resonating with the bodyβs energetic centres. These correspondences, far from static, structure and enliven my paintings. I do not seek to impose a truth, but to open a field of resonance, an invitation to welcome within oneself the creative entropy, the fertile chaos from which renewal arises.
My research also extends to quantum physics and string theory. These fields, often seen as abstract, nourish me because they confirm a deep intuition: matter is not fixed, but relational, a field of potential, of probability. String theory imagines that elementary particles are not static points, but tiny strings vibrating each at a specific frequency, like the chords of a cosmic instrument.
This idea mirrors my own conviction that every material, every surface, every form possesses its own frequency, one that shapes our perception and our joy. I speak of joy because, after spending much of my life agonising over the question, βWhat is the purpose of all this, of existence, of being here?β, Iβve come to a simple answer: joy.
And, like any muscle, joy strengthens through use. The waves it sends into matter align our fields of action and contribute to maintaining harmony within the MΓΆbius flow of universal energy and consciousness. It may not be an ultimate answer when you explore the depths of reality or the theories of consciousness, such as solipsism, but I cherish it as a path, a way to remain anchored in this tangible world.
Corinne's Aura, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 40 cm x 60 cm, 2025 Β© Aurore Monteil
When creating in situ pieces, like Vita Esteree, how do you begin the process of studying the space and its history before designing the work?
My process always begins with intuitive immersion. Before any constructed analysis, I wander through the site without purpose or expectation, letting my body absorb what presents itself, free of judgment. I attune myself to the respiration of the architecture, its proportions, materials, orientation, light, and circulation. I also observe the broader landscape, its topography, archaeology, flora, fauna, and built environment, as if the place could only be understood through the network of relationships that animate it and bind it to the living whole. Every building, for me, is an organism endowed with its own memory and breath.
What follows is an exploration of the siteβs history and memory. I conduct both documentary and sensory research, listening to the stories of those who inhabit or traverse the space. These voices, sometimes anecdotal, often reveal a deeper truth about a placeβs identity.
Layered upon this rational investigation is an energetic reading. I use simple tools, the gravity of my own body, felt resonances, and meditation. I try to perceive the frequencies at play: their weight, their fluidity, their echoes. These sensations mirror a shared atmosphere, which I then attempt to translate. Light, acoustics, and materials offer measurable data, but I always connect them to a more subtle intuition, such as the Schumann resonance, which reminds us that we vibrate at the same rhythm as the Earth itself.
When the time for creation arrives, I translate these multiple strata into forms, lines, and colours. This process unfolds through collages, sketches, layers of tracing paper, and associations of ideas. For Vita Esteree, I worked from the architectural blueprints of the building and drew inspiration from Palaeolithic art to inscribe engraved lines. I aligned each phase of creation with natural rhythms, forest walks, lunar cycles, and meditative dance to root the process within a cosmic temporality.
The ultimate goal is always the same: to create a visual and emotional landmark. An in situ work is not decoration; it is an interface. It humanises architecture, generates a sense of belonging and elevation, and transforms a mere space into a passage, an experience both sensory and spiritual.
Your works touch on spirituality, memory, and the relationship between people and their environment. Where do you find your main sources of inspiration?
My sources of inspiration are not fixed themes, but situations of attention, a threshold, a glimmer of light, a rhythm, a story. I try to inhabit those zones of transition where space reconfigures itself: where one material begins as another fades, where light turns and traces its daily choreography.
Light is an exacting teacher. The azulejo taught me that a surface is never identical to itself; it changes with every hour, every season. I therefore conceive each work as an instrument capable of resonating with the meteorology of time.
The accidents of matter also guide me: cracks, bubbles, tensions in the glaze. What we call a βflawβ often becomes a vibrational signature, proof that matter has its own will. This pedagogy of chance nourishes my aesthetic: allowing reality its share of the unforeseen.
Music and rhythm shape my compositions as well. The grid of tiles functions like a metric structure; variations are syncopations; the whites, silences. This rhythmic listening helps me weave between the micro, the gesture of a brushstroke, and the macro, a mural, a façade.
I also listen to human stories and gestures of use. Collective memory, sometimes whispered, guides my formal choices.
Equally inspiring are the geometries of the living and the constraints of construction: spirals, fractal growths, solar orientation, or technical limits. For me, inspiration is never separate from the world; it is born from dialogue, between matter and meaning, chance and order, necessity and freedom.
Of course, my works approach spirituality through my own practices, MahΔyΔna Buddhism, Kundalini, shamanic rituals, and the cycles of nature. But in truth, everything is spiritual: everything is interconnected, a memory inscribed both in our cells and in collective consciousness. Everything is, and is not, all at once. What remains is what we choose to perceive in each thing.
In my work, I offer a probability of the real, shaped through my eyes, my soul, my emotions, and I leave the viewer entirely free to vibrate with me, to enter my dance if they wish to find refuge there.
If I had to summarise all of this in a single word, it would be Β«pareidoliaΒ», that mysterious faculty of the mind to recognise forms, faces, or presences where there are only accidents of matter or light. A word I cherish, for it contains the essence of how I see.
Cellular Nebula, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 60 cm x 80 cm, 2025 Β© Aurore Monteil
Whispers of the Depths, Enamels painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 60 cm x 80 cm, 2025 Β© Aurore Monteil
What does it mean for you to create artworks for public spaces, and how do you hope they affect the daily lives of those who encounter them?
Creating for public space means opening art to everyone, without conditions or filters. It means accepting that the work will meet those who might never step into a gallery, a hurried passerby, a resident returning home, a child growing up under its gaze. This democratic dimension moves me deeply. It reintroduces sensitivity into daily life, allowing emotion and wonder to resurface amid the constant flow.
In public space, an artwork becomes a collective landmark. It anchors a place, creates memory, and weaves shared belonging. It no longer belongs solely to the artist, but to those who cross it, observe it, or live beside it. This shift is essential: art ceases to be a fixed object and becomes a living organism, transforming with the seasons, the light, and the rhythms of use. A panel of azulejos offers a space where each person can build a personal, intimate relationship.
This vocation is ancient. From their origin, azulejo panels carried a pedagogical function, telling stories to those who could not read, teaching as much as they enchanted. That lineage inspires me still: public art is not mere decoration, but a universal language. Then as now, it reflects its time and acts as a silent teacher, inviting reflection, learning through image, matter, and vibration.
I like to think of these works as breaths within the urban fabric. They do not seek to impose a truth, but to create thresholds, moments of suspension. A hallway can become a place of contemplation, a staircase an initiatory passage, a faΓ§ade an invitation to lift oneβs eyes.
What I hope for is both simple and immense: that a gaze lingers, a breath softens, and that joy, that muscle which sustains the harmony of all living things, awakens. Even fleetingly, it can transform a day and open new possibilities where one once saw only walls.
Creating a public space also means inscribing oneβs gesture into the long rhythm of time. The work does not live solely for the moment of its unveiling; it converses with generations, resists both fashion and weather, while preserving its capacity to surprise. It becomes a shared good, a collective memory.
In this sense, public art is not secondary ornamentation but a necessity, a way to humanise architecture and to remind us that, within the geometry of cities, there will always remain space for the unexpected and the poetic.
Your practice bridges tradition and contemporary creation. How do you balance respect for heritage with your own artistic vision?
For me, the balance between tradition and contemporary creation is a dialogue. My approach begins with deep respect for heritage: I chose to learn the gestures, techniques, and history of azulejos in their purest form, because tradition is not something to divert, but something to listen to. This ancestral know-how is a form of memory that crosses centuries, the essential foundation upon which all creation stands.
Yet tradition is never static. The history of the azulejo itself proves it: each era has reinvented it, from religious frescoes to modernist compositions. I see myself as part of that lineage, not to repeat, but to extend. Heritage remains alive only when it is traversed by new voices that reveal its hidden dimensions.
This principle guides all my disciplines. I see each gesture as belonging to a universal heritage that precedes us, yet is oriented toward new horizons. Creating in this in-between space is not a compromise, but a responsibility: the artist is both guardian and transmitter.
I donβt seek to modernise tradition, but to converse with it, to become a bridge between eras. To honour ancient knowledge while inventing forms capable of resonating with the present and, I hope, enduring through time in their turn.
Stranger's Aura, oxyde painting on glazed ceramic tiles, 40 cm x 60 cm, 2024 Β© Aurore Monteil
You have several international exhibitions coming up. What projects are you most excited about, and what directions would you like to explore in the future?
Returning from the Women in Art London Biennale was a luminous experience. Exhibiting alongside 150 women artists from 50 countries opened me to a diversity of perspectives and stories that still resonate deeply within me.
I now turn toward Asia, where I will exhibit this autumn at the CICA Museum in South Korea, as part of Root Unseen. I will be presenting Eye See You, a work that explores memory and transgenerational roots. It is a special joy to show my work for the first time in a region that has long nourished my spiritual and philosophical reflections.
Looking ahead to 2026, three projects particularly inspire me: a two-month residency at Can Serrat in Catalonia, where I will unite ceramics, mobile sculpture, and performance in dialogue with the Montserrat landscape; the exhibition Beyond Borders at the European Museum of Modern Art in Barcelona; and Interconnecting Lines in New York, a decisive milestone in a city whose energy and intensity constantly challenge me to expand my horizons.
At the same time, I am delighted to be working on a new commission of azulejos. Without revealing too much, I can sayits roots lie in the Mediterranean and my scientific research. It is a total, luminous project in which I feel my sensitivity can unfold in its full depth. I look forward to sitting before my easel and letting it come to life.
Through all these directions, one constant thread remains: the monumental azulejo fresco. Its scale, its presence, and collective energy nourish my vision of a vibrational architecture, a field I am building patiently, where art becomes a vector of harmony. As quantum physics reminds us, everything is a matter of probabilities: this project already exists, and it is what carries me forward, with joy, into the future.
Artistβs Talk
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