Pigmented glass, metal sheet,

Unity and Connexion consists of two circles of red and yellow glass, interlocking like a famous logo and acting as a sign before a function. The reflection of the glass recalls the economy of luminous signage, postmodern images in which visibility turns into saturation, suggesting not stability but collapse. The sign does not secure meaning; it falters, revealing its own instability.

Silk paper, wood, metal beams, capsules,

Vertical Drifts unfolds as an interplay of screen-printed tissue paper, capturing an ambiguous moment between a kiss and resuscitation. The slatted curtains, echoing the structured anonymity of office blinds, modulate light and privacy, their green hue is a nod to clinical sterility. A minimalist slope emerges, inviting quiet contemplation and rest, questioning the rifts of post-modern heritage. Through re-architecture, the piece balances the dualities of suffocation and salvation, neutrality and industrial dominance.

Wood, metal, heating lamp,

Acrylic and metal,

Metal beams,

Vidéo,

Lose Control (2023) met en scène un groupe de personnes se réunissant autour de l’extraction de leur urine. La protagoniste, aux symboles adolescents, chante émotivement leurs chansons préférées sur le bruit de leurs jets, en référence à l’image de la masculinité qui pourrait s’y incarner. Connectée aux référentiels d’images de clips vidéo et de pratiques filmiques DIY, la musique devient le vecteur de constructions d’identités et de relations.

The video was shown in 2023 at Tunnel Tunnel, Lausanne, for the Carepackage exhibition curated by Clara Chavan and Camille Zaerpour.
In 2024, it was also shown as part of The World Pulse Beats Beyond My Door exhibition curated by Gunner Dongieux, Katia Leonelli and Montserrat Mayor.

MDF,

Wood, plastic bag,

Wood, metal, fabric,

Paper, plastic,

Photo : Théa Giglio

Velcro, wood, fabric, foil and paper,

«Wake up, you need to sleep to shine your brightest light, reads the upholstery of Untitled (Sleep) (2023), a modified lounge sculpture-chair by Clara Roumégoux (b. Boulogne, France). The highly suggestive quote draws us deeper into the artist’s concerns. But why, after all, does this ergonomic contraption interrupt our slumber only to advise us to sleep some more? This piece of seemingly func- tional furniture can be traced back to a lexicon Roumégoux has been constructing in recent years. This informal catalogue, composed of diverse sources, gathers snippets of contemporary working life—objects, architecture, gestures, language; utilitarian references that serve as the foundation for a multidisciplinary practice dedicated to uncovering the bittersweet irony in the minutiae we take for granted. Roumégoux is particularly attuned to environments where one must remain compliant, orderly, and subdued within a system of social format- ting. It is precisely these contexts—where individuality is forcefully bent to fit the terms and conditions of big-scale enterprise—that the artist seeks to recreate and remodel under a critical lens. The installations are made to look slightly askew, retaining many of their original features yet operating in a liminal space, subtly contaminating the surrounding architecture. Camouflaging themselves as common they are, in fact, exercises in undermining triviality. To fully engage with such a practice, an attentive gaze and a sense of investigative curiosity are therefore required.» Excerpt from a text by Diogo Pinto, 2025