Valentine Jolibois revives this misinterpretation by imagining the sets and artifacts of a fictional religion, a cult of tears without human figures, whose traces unfold in space. Unworn costumes, a ceramic holy water font, and sculptural elements compose a suspended ritual, on the border between reality and invention, giving substance one last time to this hypothesis.

Excavation (2024) is a multi-act installation playing with the exhibition codes of history museums: from audio guides to dioramas, including graphic mediation tools like posters and flyers. Using an audio guide system, visitors experience a series of sound pieces—more musical and poetic than purely explanatory—while wandering through the exhibition space.

With this installation, I wanted to stage a supposed archaeological discovery, a mysterious object somewhere between a sarcophagus and a barrel. The mediation tools—such as audio guides, plinths, frames, and the diorama—are given a place as important as the exhibited objects, becoming sculptures themselves.

"Powerful arms hold me tight, but I don’t back down. We’re under heavy watch, protected at every turn. I say please and thank you—endless gratitude. I won’t break the rules; safety must be earned. No need to stay alert anymore. My jailers, jealous lovers, they’re the ones with common sense. In every argument, they hit back. In a muscular ballet, they watch over me. Their patrols lull me gently into half-sleep. Suddenly, a soft “click.” Safety belts me in. I shout my thanks to the cops and the armored guards."

A video of flames is projected onto a ceramic sculpture, casting an incandescent shadow, while small speakers hidden in the floor sculpture emit a soft crackling sound.

A video of flames is projected onto a ceramic sculpture, casting an incandescent shadow, while small speakers hidden in the floor sculpture emit a soft crackling sound.