In Mâchemondes, everything seems caught in a state of perpetual transformation, as if the forms themselves were wavering between appearing and disappearing. Everything here is shifting, soft, fluid matter. Nothing is fixed, nothing is stable. Mâchemondes evokes both slag and the end of the worlds, but also chewing gum: something that is kneaded, worn down, and transformed over time. An exhibition where forms digest themselves, where images unravel only to reinvent themselves anew.

Christian Gonzenbach’s ceramic sculptures conjure up an intimate pantheon: religious figurines, childhood toys and holiday souvenirs intermingle, composing a mythology of everyday life where the sacred and the trivial coexist without hierarchy, in a celestial garden party.

Geneviève Capitanio’s paintings gracefully extend this sense of instability. The landscapes of West Field float, freed from gravity, above worlds on the brink of extinction. Their strange materiality plays tricks on our perception, yet we feel as though we know these poplars.

Vincent Kohler’s inscrutable paintings reveal only the surface of the material: wood or green marble. Depth lies hidden beneath this surface; the marble is the podium of the UN’s global power in New York.

Finally, Till Rabus’s soft figures, sculpted and wearing red hats or caps, seem to melt and reform endlessly, mocking those who look at them.