LAHCEN IWI: FORM, MEMORY, CONTINUITY

In conversation with Moroccan artist Lahcen Iwi on circular continuity, slowed-down rituals, time, the weight of cultural and personal inheritance, and the quiet beauty of the unseen.

Born in Marrakesh, Lahcen Iwi lives and works in the southern peripheries of the city, where his studio is located in the remnants of his father’s tire workshop. Known for his large-scale animal sculptures made from reclaimed rubber, Iwi is an artist deeply committed to the raw tactility of material and memory. His work metabolizes personal reflections, not only as reminders of where he comes from but of what has shaped him.

Working with discarded rubber, he transforms soft, worn materials into bold, symbolic sculptures. Iwi stands as a proud contemporary representative of the Moroccan art and cultural scene.

Iwi has presented his work in solo and group exhibitions across Morocco, and his lion sculpture, commissioned for Mohammed V Airport in Casablanca, has become an emblematic expression of contemporary Moroccan identity. Rooted in post-industrial decay, ancestral symbols, and quiet resilience, his work keeps evolving, most recently diving deeper into the space where discarded form meets cultural reawakening.

Rubber carries its own sense of time; it stretches, absorbs, endures. Unlike marble or bronze, it isn’t noble in the classical sense. It changes under pressure, holds the memory of touch, survives friction. Through it, Iwi communicates his reflections, not as markers of origin, but of the forces that shaped him.

We met with the artist at his studio, part sanctuary, part salvage site, to speak about night-making, inherited silence, and the ritual of reawakening Moroccan cultural codes through sculpture.

Q&A

How do you introduce yourself?

I present myself as an artist, a Moroccan artist. I participate in cultural events across the country, and I’m always ready to represent Moroccan art and artists.

What does “the circle of the tire” mean to you?

It represents a cycle, a beginning, and an end. A zero. That circle allows me to start again, even from a place of collapse. It reminds me that nothing is ever wasted.

How does Moroccan culture shape your practice? Are there traditional elements you bring into your work?

I see Moroccan culture as a treasure buried in the ground. You have to dig to find it. It’s there waiting to be reawakened and presented in a meaningful, sustainable way. We have a rich heritage. It’s our job to make sure it’s seen.

What are the foundations of your artistic language?

Observation. Reflection. Simplicity. I come from that kind of background, using whatever’s around. Discarded materials, forgotten pieces. I bring them together into something unified. That’s the core of my work: seeing the unseen.

“Seeing the unseen.” Do you mean that what you create exists first in your imagination?

When I say “unseen,” I mean things that are invisible to others, things people throw away, abandon, like old tires. I don’t create for beauty itself and this is not the final objective of the result. I create with purpose. Tires damage the environment. My work gives them a second life.

Your work is closely linked to nature. What role does it play in your process?

Nature is everything. It’s like the bond between a child and its mother, unconditional and essential. We have to respect it like we respect our elders. Keep it clean. Protect it.

What does time mean to you in the creative process?

People often think they don’t have time. But it’s not about hours, it’s about presence. I work mostly at night. That’s when everything goes quiet and I can hear my ideas. That peace of mind protects my energy.

When did you begin working with materials and sculpture?

I started early, working with my father in his tire shop. I didn’t choose this path; it chose me. I never studied art in school, but I studied culture. And through my work, I honor that part of me.

When did you first realize your work mattered?

At first, people told me I was wasting time. But eventually, acknowledgment of my work was reached. That changed everything. I felt proud, not just for myself, but for where I come from and what I represent.

How does Moroccan culture influence your vision?

There’s a deep desire among Moroccans to reconnect with their culture. People pass by meaningful things every day without noticing. But that’s changing gradually. Awareness is growing. And with that awareness comes possibility.

What does the Moroccan tea code mean to you?

It’s more than a drink, it’s a code ritual of connection. In the Sahara, they take hours to prepare it. Tea slows down time. It opens space for reflection, for storytelling. It’s a ritual of unity.

Do those kinds of rituals, like eating together or sharing tea, influence your work?

Absolutely. These habits are imprinted on my identity. When I make tables, for instance, I think about how we eat together, from one plate, with our hands. That spirit of togetherness shapes my pieces.

You often sculpt animals. Why lions and elephants, specifically?

Each animal carries meaning. The lion is the Lion of the Atlas, strength, pride, Morocco. The elephant, though not native to Morocco, represents something bigger: memory, wisdom, and universality. Each sculpture tells its own story.

“Every mark left behind tells a story of movement, of resistance, of becoming.”

– Lahcen Iwi

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Production: Al Badiya Studio

Photography: Francesco Corti / @francesco.corti

Executive Producers: Younes El Ouafiq & Salaheddine Farhane

Sculptor: Lahcen Iwi / @lahceniwi