Meriem Bennani in Fin de Party

Music often lingers after the party ends — the final echo of a carefree moment before silence sets in. Fin de party dwells in that fragile in-between space, where the soundscape collapses into quiet, suspended between fading euphoria and the calm that follows.

And then, gradually, the music fades. A lone turntable by Davide Balula - relic of a party already past -spins beneath a drifting balloon, like the last pulse of a vanished tumult. We cling to fragments: replaying phone videos, scrolling through YouTube, leaving a wistful comment with Kamilya Kuspanova, before calling it a night. The party may be over, but its echo endures.

Here, music sheds its ties to academic rigor and the myth of virtuosity. What emerges is a raw, instinctive form—somewhere between joy and disillusionment. Camille Blatrix’s Petit Lu-shaped music stage becomes a playground for spontaneous, unburdened expression. Echoes ripple through the space: Ziad Antar’s children repeat a gleeful “Wa,” Meriem Bennani’s anthropomorphic architectures burst into song, Charlemagne Palestine’s stuffed animals pile up in a jubilant mess, and Pipilotti Rist wrecks Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game in a cathartic, irreverent gesture.