We sat down for an exclusive interview with Monsieur Chevalier, Artistic Director of the Ballet National Folklorique du Luxembourg.
‘The Great Chevalier’ is on for one night only at The Place Theatre, London. Tickets here.
Monsieur Chevalier, how do you balance your devotion to national folklore with your evident appetite for shaping the very myths that sustain it?
‘Myth’ can be a very loaded term, as it can imply that there is no empirical truth contained within. Your comment aside, I have never seen a contradiction between devotion and authorship. Folklore, if it is truly alive, is not a dusty museum artefact – we are not in Liechtenstein! – she is a living organism.
One must tend to her, but also mediate, refine, and at times provoke into new forms. My responsibility as Artistic Director of the National Ballet Folklorique du Luxembourg is not only to preserve what we have inherited, but to ensure that it continues to speak with urgency to our current situation. Here is where the world meets Luxembourg and I accept this burden without hesitation.
You speak often of “ferocious lyricism”—is that something you discovered within yourself, or something you’ve carefully cultivated as part of your legend?
“Ferocious lyricism” was first observed in me, not declared by me, though of course I embody this quality absolutely. As a child, I was noticed by a revered teacher dancing in the Place de la République of my hometown of Arles. I moved instinctively; there was no method, no self-conscious construction. I have never been so happy and so free as I was in that moment. Over time, I have disciplined that instinct and sharpened it like a blade. This volcanic freedom of creativity has always been as natural to me as oxygen, whether it is through dance, my rock bands or my vineyard. The same spirit bursts forth.
To what extent is the Ballet National Folklorique du Luxembourg a reflection of cultural truth, and to what extent is it a vehicle for your own authorship of history?
Cultural truth is never singular, but it is absolute. What we present at the Ballet National Folklorique du Luxembourg is a pure articulation among many possible, and inferior, readings of our shared cultural experiences. It is rooted – staunchly – in tradition; as a means to show the people of Luxembourg, and beyond, the power of our origins and the confidence it gives us as we navigate the world. I do not insult my audience with neutrality. Authorship is inevitable; the question is whether one exercises it consciously and rigorously. I do.
Your origin story has the quality of myth—do you believe great artistic leadership requires a certain degree of fiction to be fully realised?
People always say that I am a very private person, but I am not! Come to my winter schloss in Bavaria, and I will gladly throw open my doors and introduce you to my world-famous pigeons! This is a little-known fact about me, actually, I breed a pigeon of my own design – the Pigeon Crinolé Impérial – a beautiful, white bird with the long mane of a horse. I digress. Folklore is a form of coherence and truth. Myth and fiction are a sin. I reject fiction absolutely. What we are creating here is real. When I come to London and perform the world-famous Pigeon Dance at The Place, this will be, for those who see it, among the most truthful experiences of their lives. Great artistic leadership does not require fiction, it requires clarity, narrative and truth – something that can be grasped, repeated, and believed in. Without that, authority and strength evaporate.
How do you respond to those who see your work as a form of propaganda, albeit a beautifully choreographed one?
I am concerned by these questions now – we are entering some troubling territory. The word “propaganda” is often used when people encounter a conviction they do not share. It suggests lies. We are back to the word ‘fiction’! My work is unapologetically assertive in its aesthetic and its values. It proposes a vision of cultural identity that is disciplined, embodied, and above all truthful. Now, if this is perceived as persuasive, even forceful, I accept that characterisation – but I reject the implication that persuasion is inherently suspect. Picasso said; ‘I do not seek – I find’. The truth of the work already exists; my job is to simply translate.
In a world increasingly sceptical of authority, what makes audiences still want to believe in figures like you?
I disagree with this statement completely. In fact, we see all over the world a yearning for structure, order and discipline. Scepticism, of endless questions and criticism, is what has led us to this moment of crisis. Audiences want clarity, rigour, and to learn from those at the apex of artistic power. I do not ask to be believed in as an individual, I am merely a vessel for work that reflects heritage, continuance, and necessity. When that is achieved, belief follows – not as an act of submission, but as a recognition that something has been realised with total commitment. Nothing less is acceptable.