Literature

I am not talking here about pure beauty and the powerful charm of Charles Matton's paintings and objects. I am talking about something else, I am talking about that derisory, confused and yet warm secret that is our existence when we see it through Matton's canvases. I am talking about the curious sacrilege he makes us commit at the same time as this act of faith, I am talking about the affection he visibly demands from those around him and which allows us, once surrounded by his works, to better endure this frightening disorder, down to the last millimetre, that is generally our existence.

Françoise Sagan, February 1989