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 we all need. It represents what we cannot reach. And it’s a recurring motif in my work. I love skies in motion, when the shades of gray, green, and blue blend together. I’ve enjoyed representing it in different ways. For example, in one of my series on canvas, the sky appears as pixels. You can obviously see it as an allegory for the digital age, even if, for me, it’s more of a reference to the mosaics of Pompeii. I’ve also made skies out of collage. In my journey as a journeyman, the sky holds a special place. When I started as an apprentice at the age of 14, I was the one pushing the scaffolding for the person creating the artwork… I was the ‘helper,’ 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 involves patterns, painting a sky is a personal interpretation, an achievement outside of academic constraints.

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

“ When I first saw this monumental painting on a ceiling in the Louvre Museum (on the first floor of the Lescot wing), I was still a novice. I was fortunate enough to work at the Louvre, but it was to perform thankless tasks, like dusting the cornices of the picture frames with potash. So when I saw Georges Braque’s “Two Birds,” depicted in this deep blue, what struck me first was the awareness of the possibility of transgression. How could they let someone break so radically with the rules of academic art in a place like the Louvre? I also very quickly saw in it the very expression of freedom. Georges Braque became my superhero, a Jeff Koons before his time. When I create my series of frames today, I become that worker again, rebelling against his role, and thereby freeing himself from determinism. That’s the guiding principle of my work.” I want to introduce people to this type of painting, which is actually not very well known.

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 Marlboro cowboy for what he embodies of that bygone era, when packs didn’t yet carry the warning ‘Smoking kills.’ I picture the tobacconist’s shop as a candy store for adults, with its wall displays in the colors of the different brands. They are relics of a bygone era. Their aesthetic has marked several generations. Some of their designs and typography have become iconic. ”

The Colombo series

" The series airs at 21 p.m. on Saturdays on the TMC channel. And every Saturday night, no matter what, I watch the week's episode. I never miss one. It's a ritual. For me, Colombo is the anti-hero of our time. Nothing can happen for five minutes—no dialogue, no action—but the camera keeps filming the scene. We follow Colombo, played by the unforgettable Peter Falk, as he opens a cupboard, takes out a glass, puts it on the table, and says, 'Ice cream?' I then have the feeling of seeing an uncle from the provinces come to visit me. It's a series that, between the 1960s and 1990s, featured the greatest American directors, from John Cassavetes to Steven Spielberg. It marks the end of the era of affluence in the United States; it's also before the Reagan era, so before the all-encompassing technology. The series is set in Los Angeles, in incredible locations." " Of course, I also see it as a good excuse to stay home. It's a form of meditation. Colombo is like a comfort blanket. "

the bong

“ This is the title of one of my works, created specifically for the exhibition ‘ C’est le bouquet ’ by curator Sophie Toulouse (June 8 to July 31 at the Hyperbien gallery in Montreuil, June 13 to 18 at the OFR bookstore in the Marais district of Paris, and June 21 to July 31 at Le 104 in Paris). I had previously exhibited this very naive cartoon bubble. It also features brutalist ornamentation. I realize that when I delve deeper, there’s still something here linked to childhood. The pop era. All the Asterix comics. I wanted to represent the ‘bang’ of the explosion, but it’s also the expression of a punch thrown against the wall. The notion of the frame, very present throughout my work, appears here, but in the form of a rupture. ”

My brushes

“ The paintbrush is my pencil. In the trade, we use the term ‘ brush .’ My brushes are my keys to destinations, my ‘pass’ to other places. 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 like a cauliflower. It sheds its bristles, and it is through use that it will thicken with paint and become more precise. I have kept all my apprentice brushes; I have had them since I was 14. They are not just tools, they are a heritage. There is one for each type of work. And so each brush reminds me of a campaign, that is to say, a restoration project in which I participated, like the one at the Capitole theater in Toulouse in 1996. I am attached to them. ”

Water

“ Nicolas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, the musicians of the band Air, are now close friends. As teenagers, we would never have crossed paths. I myself come from a suburb of Paris where nobody knows their music! When we met, I was impressed by their 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 shared history ultimately brought Nicolas and me together. First, because of what we experienced as children, and then because of how art saved us, each in our own way. I recognize myself in his teenage struggles. And just like him, I want to share with others this melancholy and these emotions I felt when I was younger.” It's no coincidence that my sky compositions are titled " Need for Air " (a silkscreen print exhibited during a carte blanche at the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Lille in 2019). Our childhood wounds are similar in their expression.