A master in the art of playing with codes and references, this former companion trained at a very young age in the restoration of historical monuments has become a figure of contemporary art. His works, his monumental installations, his paintings, and his sculptures, which private individuals, brands and institutions are snapping up, take on the appearance of crumpled mirrors, frames that escape, cornices that run away... Of Hungarian origin through his father who was a political refugee during the Cold War years, the artist Mathias Kiss (which means "small" in his paternal language) loves nothing more than seizing the failings of our time to question their meaning, to question himself on his own history, in a perpetual back and forth between homage and criticism, hat tip and disobedience. His personal way of tracing a singular path between craftsmanship, contemporary art and design.

In his new workshop in the northeast of Paris, a warm, calm and open loft on the sky, in which he has reconstructed his universe, a space all in height differences and hidden nooks where he stores his material, creates and lives at the same time , the one who returns again and again to this know-how acquired during long years of companionship, hard and merciless years, but school of excellence, receives us without protocol, laughing look, soft voice and elegant naturalness. To talk about the fundamentals of his creations, the rituals that punctuate his daily life, the need to slow down the pace and his desire to transmit.

The sky

« The sky is the universal symbol of escape. A window onto another world. An escape that we all need. It represents what we cannot reach. And it is a recurring figure in my work. I like skies in motion, when the shades of gray, green and blue merge. I had fun representing it in different aspects. For example, on one of my series on canvas, the sky appears in the form of pixels. We can obviously see an allegory of the digital age, even if, for me, it is more a reference to the mosaics of Pompeii. I have also made skies in collaged paper. In my journey as a companion, the sky occupies a special place. When I started as an apprentice at the age of 14, I was the one who pushed the scaffolding of the one who was creating the work... I was the "bibi", as they say. So the sky represented for me the painting of the accomplished craftsman, the one I wanted to be later. Unlike the imitation of marble or wood which implies frames, the painting of a sky is a personal interpretation, an achievement outside an academic framework. ».

The work "Birds" by Georges Braque, at the Louvre

« When I discovered this monumental painting made on a ceiling of the Louvre museum (on the first floor of the Lescot wing), I was still a novice. I was lucky enough to work at the Louvre, but it was to perform menial tasks, such as dusting the cornices of the frames with potash. So when I saw these "Two Birds" by Georges Braque, represented in this deep blue color, it was the awareness of the possibility of transgression that first gripped me. How could a guy be allowed to break so far with the rules of academicism in a place like the Louvre? I also very quickly saw in it the very expression of freedom. George Braque became my superhero, a Jeff Koons before his time. When today I create my series of frames, I become again this worker who rebels against his function, and thereby frees himself from determinism. This is the guiding thread of my work. I want to make discover this painting that few people know finally. »

The pack of cigarettes

« I didn't touch a cigarette until I was thirty. And yet I can't help but be fascinated by the cowboy of Marlboro for what he embodies of this ancient era, when the packages did not yet bear the mention "Smoking kills". I imagine the bar-tabac as a candy store for adults, with these wall displays in the colors of the different brands. They are the vestiges of a world. Their aesthetics marked several generations. Some of their designs and typographies have become iconic. »

The Colombo series

« The series airs at 21pm on Saturdays on TMC. And every Saturday night, no matter what, I watch the episode of the week. I never miss one. A ritual. Colombo is for me the anti-hero of our time. Nothing can happen for five minutes - no dialogue, no action - the camera continues to film the scene. We follow Colombo, played by the essential Peter Falk, opening a cupboard, taking out a glass, putting it on the table, saying "Ice?" I then feel like I'm seeing an uncle from the provinces come to visit me. It's a soap opera that, between the 1960s and 1990s, featured the greatest American directors, from John Cassavetes to Steven Spielberg. It marks the end of the opulent United States, we are also before the Reagan era, so before all the technology. The series is set in Los Angeles, in incredible settings. Of course I also see it as a good excuse to stay at home. It's a form of meditation. Colombo is a comfort blanket. »

the bong

« This is the title of one of my works produced in particular for the exhibition " It is the bouquet by art curator Sophie Toulouse (from June 8 to July 31 at the Hyperbien gallery in Montreuil, from June 13 to 18 at the OFR bookstore in the Marais in Paris, and from June 21 to July 31 at 104 in Paris) . I had already exhibited this super naive cartoon bubble before. We can also see a brutalist ornamentation. I realize that when I dig there is still something related to childhood here. The pop years. All Asterix comics. I wanted to represent the "bang" of the explosion, but it's also the expression of a punch in the wall. The notion of frame very present in all my work appears here, but in the form of a rupture. »

My brushes

« The brush is my pencil. In the trade, we use the term " brush ". My brushes are my destination keys, my "pass" to elsewhere. Composed of a handle, a ferrule (the copper part) and its bristles, each brush has a story. Its value is forged over the years. Conversely, a new brush is said to be a cauliflower. He loses his hair, and it is by using it that he will thicken his paint and become more precise. I kept all my apprentice brushes, I have had them since I was 14 years old. They are not just tools, they are a heritage. There's one for every type of job. And so each brush reminds me of a campaign, that is to say a restoration project in which I took part, like that of the Capitol theater in Toulouse in 1996. I get attached to it. »

Water

« Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, the musicians of the group Air, are close friends today. As teenagers, we would never have met each other. I myself come from a suburb of Paris where no one knows their music! When we met he impressed me for this cultured and very trendy side. They represented electronic music composed of lyrics in English while I don't speak a word of it and I barely know how to use a computer. Our story finally brought us together with Nicolas. First for what we experienced as children and then for the way art saved us, each in our own way. I recognize myself in his adolescent misfortunes. And just like him, I want to pass on to others this vagueness in the soul and these emotions felt when I was younger. It's not for nothing that my compositions of skies are called " need air (a screen print exhibited during a carte blanche at the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Lille in 2019). Our childhood wounds are similar in their translation. »