Privas
Théo Combaluzier (b. 1999 in Privas, France) lives and works in Veyras. His practice falls within the realms of architecture and contemporary sculpture, where he engages with vacant spaces as a location for critical observation. The artist views the urban or rural landscape as a multi-layered space that develops through use, development, vacancy, or transformation. His practice explores the evident changes or latent changes that take place within these spaces, such as the effects of rural and urban devitalisation.
At the heart of his practice is the relationship between living these transformations on a daily basis and becoming so accustomed to them that they no longer draw attention. This is where the focus on traces, interstitial environments, and spatial configurations becomes crucial, as his practice aims at drawing out the material indicators of the dynamics that redefine spaces.
His work has been presented in solo exhibitions such as white dogs, melody at La Bourse du Travail, Valence (2025), and at Liste Art Fair with Super Super Markt, Basel (2025). He has participated in group exhibitions including yaourt at Komplex Gallery, Seoul (2026); Close, but no cigar at L’Étoile Rouge, Paris (2025); Hello, minotaur, at Super Super Markt, Berlin (2024); Sweet Days of Discipline, at Villa Arson Art Center, Nice (2024); the showroom for the Prix Région Sud Art 2024, at Art-o-Rama, Marseille (2024); Burning Bridges, (SYWISY), Ulsan (2023); and Journey on Howling Craters, Bestial Thoughts and Early Whispers at Sajetta Project / The Lunatic Care / Like a Little Disaster (2020, digital exhibition).
His publications include hello, minotaur (Super Super Markt, Berlin, 2024) and Burning Bridges SAGA, a webzine project supported by ARKO (Arts Council Korea), South Korea (2024).
My feet led me to this deserted place. The front was in relatively good shape: a grid of faded pictures, bleached by years of sun exposure, covered the windows. Some of the glass was broken. As I peeked through the curtain, I assumed it wasn't the result of trespassing; it didn't look like you could hit the jackpot by looting this place.
When I made my way inside, something felt off. Apart from the layer of dust covering every surface, everything seemed untouched, as if whatever had happened out there had somehow skipped this place.
Out of habit, I tried the fuse box. To my surprise, it worked. The lights flickered, then came on, revealing the space in full. As I looked around, I began to notice the details: boards covered with pictures that were easier to make out, desks surrounded by three chairs each, calendars buried under piles of pencils, staplers and yellowed notes. It all felt carefully arranged, as if people had once sat here to talk about things that mattered.
But what really caught my attention was the screen mounted on the wall. It was still on.
An image filled the display. I was clueless about what it represented. It looked like some kind of laboratory: Mirrors everywhere, strange chairs merged with black bowls, heavy-looking devices shaped like aircraft engines, ghostly figures on the windows looking both inside and outside at the same time.
I understood that this place had once been used to promote or sell this kind of weird furniture, whatever purpose it once served.
At least that's what I thought, until the image faded into a different scene, this time empty. Then a third picture, overrun with plants.
I stood there, staring at the screen, unable to tell what kind of world would ever need such rooms.
Privas
finanziato dall'Unione Europea - Next Generation EU
