Caroline Amoros

I am an artist who transforms public spaces into places of storytelling, connection, and cultural exchange. 

You can watch my interview with Mark here.

My work blends performance, visual art, and poetic reflection, and I’m always responding to the emotional and social landscapes of the places I find myself in — whether a city street, a remote glacier, or a theatre stage.

I create performances in close collaboration with local communities and institutions, guided by a desire to reflect the beauty, tension, and complexity of everyday life. Anne Dufourmantelle’s philosophy of gentleness has deeply shaped my approach — it helps me bring a quiet but intentional presence to everything I do.

I studied dance, mime, and avant-garde theatre in Montpellier, London, and Winnipeg, and hold degrees in Linguistics and Elizabethan Theater. My early training with Morton Potash and Ingeborg Liptay gave me a foundation in movement and meaning that continues to shape my practice today. Experimentation and social engagement have always been at the heart of my work.

Over the years, I’ve developed fictional personas that step into real-world situations. Alongside photojournalist Raphaël Helle, I created Miss Yellow, who appeared at the 2000 Women’s World March, and Kristin, who embedded herself in Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign in the U.S. These characters allowed me to blur the boundaries between performance, journalism, and lived experience — and opened up new ways of speaking about politics, identity, and truth.

My ongoing project Miss O’Range is a poetic exploration of climate change, with site-specific performances in Morocco, Iceland, Sweden, Australia, and beyond. Most recently, I created Kiki Helsingor, a work presented in theatres across France, Sweden, and Denmark, which explores themes of identity and belonging across cultures and borders.

Through all of my work, I try to expand the role of the artist in public life — inviting people to see space, community, and themselves with fresh eyes.

When Mark invited me to imagine my fantasy cultural year, I knew it would be a playful and inspiring journey — and he didn’t disappoint. We began in Iceland, a place I love deeply. Sitting outside in Reykjavik, the sun bright but the air still cold, I imagined myself with a glass of glacial water and Extreme Cities by Ashley Dawson on the table beside me. Iceland, with its purity, strength, and leadership in women’s rights, felt like the perfect place to start.

From there, I was whisked off — first class, of course — on a year-long cultural odyssey funded by a generous Icelandic family foundation. They asked me to explore the world of performance art, discover hidden gems, and document my experiences in a book, a TED Talk, a TV series, and a global university tour. My first stop? Karachi, Pakistan — a city I’ve never visited in person, but where I have meaningful artistic connections.

In this imagined Karachi, I arrived to a warm welcome from local art students and was taken to a peaceful loft overlooking a park. That evening, I attended a contemporary dance performance — the kind that blends disciplines and makes something entirely new. I pictured Ballet Rambert on stage, or perhaps a revival of work in the spirit of Sylvie Guillem, whose experimental edge I admire.

Afterward, I chose to eat local Pakistani cuisine, although in Mark’s fantasy world, it became a delicious French-Pakistani fusion meal. The next day was “sport day,” and I chose wild swimming — my favorite — even though I know it’s not always easy to find in Karachi.

Later, I stepped into a digitally enhanced art gallery, where I put on a VR headset to explore the immersive world of an emerging local artist — a beautiful idea that felt perfectly in line with my own desire to discover the unknown.

As part of the journey, I was allowed only one genre of music for the year, and I chose traditional music from around the world. I love variety — I never listen to the same music two days in a row — and world music feeds both my imagination and my improvisation practice.

Throughout the week, I filled my evenings with global cultural experiences: a Bjork concert (of course, in Iceland!), a contemporary dance show in New York, and even a night at Hamilton on Broadway. I’m not drawn to traditional opera, but I do love performances that happen in the street, where I can feel close to the artists and their energy. For film, I imagined attending an Iranian film festival, as I’d just seen a powerful movie from Iran about women that stayed with me.

As the trip came to an end, I was treated to what Mark called the "hero lunch" — a long, thoughtful meal in Karachi. I invited Ted Kilmer, a dear figure from my past who once booked me at the World Trade Center and whose support I’ve never forgotten. He lost his job when the towers fell, but he represents something very important to me: memory, resilience, and connection. I imagined he’d invite Jeremy Shine from Manchester to join us. And if Ted could choose anyone else? I hope he’d invite me again.

My fantasy year would conclude with performances of my own, of course — that part matters to me deeply. And when I finally stepped on stage to give my TED Talk, I imagined my daughter Eleanor in the front row, proud and beaming.