In ‘Enthrone Dethrone’, thrones rise up out of piled findings. In a space-wrapping scenography, flooring covers the walls and fencing protects the floor. Large panels of tracing paper divide the second space of the gallery in smaller compartments, in which light and sound are diffused. Discovering Jadot’s little cosmos of collected and accumulated goods, it becomes clear that every element has its own story. I tried to collect them and in turn, devour them in the coming paragraphs. But first: the show is best experienced seated, barring the distinction between object of use and object of attention, they invite for different types of conversation. The seats, chairs, thrones all make us think of our own physical comportment, and of how the seat lends grandeur to the person sitting on it, by crowning its presence. The crackling floor, the felt walls and the diffuse light slow you down into an oddly absorbing environment, in which you are left puzzled. In the eclectic collages of objects, bits and pieces collected all over the world come together in ways practical, and logical, though possibly only in the artist’s mind. All his finds eventually seem to fall into place. Starting with the mere conception of a chair, rather than with a set-out plan or sketch, the works are intuitively construed out of an archive that one can only imagine the dimensions of. Things forgotten by others, precious for him, were all once designed for their own purpose. Here they find their fit as a base, a closing system or a balancing element. The first piece that opens the exhibition, the most throne-like of all seats in the show, builds around a chair of his grandmother, protected by mops, and harassed with bed springs. As you enter the space, you pass by a shell leaning over a yellow seat that stems from his old Mustang, and find a white stool piece with Mexican leather dog training whips— the white building blocks of which turn out to be dried molding material, as found and broken out of a bucket by workers every morning. Further, the stone piece that reminds one of the stone age, is indeed made of 400 million old rocks, and the soft seats are lent from construction, where these strokes of textile carry up the heaviest goods. In the corner — but as you walk this walk please be seated on any of the thrones and experience the work for a moment— the green fluffy cover is made by Olivia Babel who remakes cartographies of warzones, one of which is here mounted on a flexible fishing chair. On an experience level, the conversation chair enhances self-confidence, while putting you literally in a good spot with the person you’re conversing with. The lamp perfectly shows the playful Cadavre Exquis working method of the crafter. Then the oddest piece, looks like sci-fi mobile, with sliced car seats and architecture ceiling pieces reused. And almost shy, but blindingly elegant, stand the Black Caterpillar, the flexible leg of which stems from a drawing table, the wooden foot drenched in blue Chinese ink. Stories assembled at goodwill, Lionel Jadot finds solutions while playfully paving its very own middle ground between art and object.