The polyphonic practice of Jeanne Susplugas isolates the forms and strategies of confinement in various forms — physical, social, intellectual, and emotional. Through media including drawing, installation, sculpture, film, ceramics, and virtual reality, the artist gives shape to the pre-existing links between science, economy, and the living world, as well as the contemporary injunctions to maintain constant control over our moods. Under a title reminiscent of a short story collection by Charles Bukowski, the artist brings together for her fourth solo show at the gallery a set of works that probe the intricate workings of our minds.

Affiliating medicine, normativity, and nature, Ordinary madness presents a concentrated iconography. Chemical formulas such as endorphins, serotonin, ethanol, and other drugs appear in sculptures and drawings, as a pharmakon—a substance meant to help us navigate a world where the pursuit of well-being tends toward addiction as much as ideology. At the same time, this practice is ideological: the recent concept of “biomorality”, introduced by philosopher Alenka Zupančič, describes the growing tendency to perceive happiness as a consumable product and capitalist imperative, as well as a moral obligation — often at the expense of social values such as acceptance and diversity.

The plantes toxiques (2023) ceramics materialize the cellular forms of plants known for their toxicity. Here, nature appears ambiguous—not only as a place of care (like a nurturing mother) but also as a potential danger, embodying landscapes of our anxieties and dysfunctions. Works such as C₂H₆O (2023) and Acupuncture, (2010) reflect a tangible, yet almost authoritarian manifestation of ecology as defined by Félix Guattari, which includes mental, social, and environmental aspects. Confinement and addiction, recurring themes in Susplugas’ work, seem to flatten fantasy and desire, leaving the individual in a state of non-demand.

In her recent drawings and wall-drawings, Susplugas explores the question of genealogies — both of her parents work in the medicinal plant industry. Arbre généalogique (2017) represents a family tree that fed on phobias and alienations. In a similar vein, Chemin initiatique (2023), an installation featuring rocks engraved with words, invites us to break free from repetitive patterns. Here, the focus is on psychic sustainability, as reflected in the widespread use of chemical aids among various populations. In this context, biomorality echoes the term biopower, defined by Michel Foucault in the 1970s: a form of governance based not on geographical territories but on human populations. If our era is not constructing its own Raft of the Medusa, Susplugas’ work responds to an urgent need for habitability — both for our bodies and the environments that contain them.

The play on scale is highly present in her work, evoking both the infinitely small — what one might observe under a microscope — and the space we occupy within our surroundings. These variations prompt us to question the “other.” In today’s hyper-connected and fluid society, which operates like an organism, are we not being pushed toward a state of constant performativity — driven by the logic of a world that is no longer simply healthy, but increasingly industrialized and libertarian? This pressure to conform to norms is promoted under the guise of social progress. Bird (2023), a glass sculpture in the shape of a clitoris, evokes the fragile place of women within a patriarchal society. The object follows an earlier version created in virtual reality, I will sleep when I’m dead (2020). Susplugas narrates the human condition through an attempt at embodiment, both physical and social. Her pieces invite us toward individuation, as described by Georges Simondon: the ability to act independently.

Ordinary madness encourages us to exchange prescribed directives for voluntary momentum. By fostering new relationships with nature, others, and ourselves, the exhibition urges us to transform our inner wastelands into subsistence gardens.

(Text by Agnès Violeau)