To enter Roberto Matta’s universe it was necessary to resort to a series of tricks.
One afternoon I called at his house on the rue de Lille in front of the Orsay Museum. Germana Ferrari attends:
-Good afternoon, this is….about the Chilean Embassy (I don’t mention who I want to talk to).
-Where are you now?
-At the headquarters.
-Come immediately.
The trick was to have conducted the conversation in German. This disconcerted her because Germana is the daughter of the majority partners of a large German pharmaceutical consortium and they always call her by her husband, rarely by her.
Twenty minutes later, after crossing the threshold of a building that faces the street and crossing a patio full of sculptures by Matta – of little interest in the markets – I was drinking tea at a small table with this very unique couple.
They argued all the time about any matter in French and Spanish.
Finally Germana left us alone and I told her the purpose of my visit. Write about it, whether it is an essay, book or report.
-Look, as a child I played with Jorge Alessandri, who was very lonely. They took me to his house and I was his only friend (fake: the former president was born in 1886 and the artist in 1910 – although they falsified his date so that it coincided with 11-11-11,)
After dedicating himself to furniture and architecture, he left for New York where he began to make inroads among the few Dadaists living in the United States.
Shortly after, he meets Anne Clark, mother of Gordon Matta Clark and Sebastián-Tatán-. Jealous of Gordon’s talent and his media impact, he distanced himself from his son when vast articles appeared praising his work consisting of photographing broken buildings. The two brothers lived for a time in Chile and Gordon contracted pneumonia in Santiago.
Adults in New York Tatan becomes his brother’s backpack due to his suicide attempts, his stays in sanatoriums and his escapes. In fact, one afternoon when Gordon goes out to buy cigarettes, Tatan takes his own life.
Matta was already in France.
-You are going to reproach me for not having attended anyone’s funeral. It was selfishness perhaps, but I believed I was sent from God to dedicate myself to art and nothing more than art.
Andre Breton expels him from surrealism and the communist party distances itself from Matta following the suicide of Arshile Gorky.
Indeed, the painter could not get over the fact that his friend Roberto ran away with his wife and took his own life. In revenge, Breton and the intellectuals in Europe crossed him.
Back in Italy she met Melanie Pope, and she was the mother of Federica – a constant presence in Chile and a mirror of her father – and Ramuntcho, who has done musical work with John Williams and other prominent artists.
Melanie owns a small island in the Adriatic, a world too small for Matta, and returns to mainland Italy where she meets
Angela Farranda, actress, marries to give birth to Pablo Echaurren, incorrectly registered in the Roman civil system. He is a prominent author of far-left political drawings, book covers and comic strips similar to Donald Duck. Married to Claudia, he points out: The only child of this couple is me.
Germana Ferrari came as a closing to the marriage saga. She survived his death.
The inheritance issues went to court and finally Germana was left with 50 percent of her works and upon her death, Alise, the only daughter of this union (evilly nicknamed Magpie by her mother) is the current owner of Germana’s legacy in Tarquinia, her Summer house.
As for us, every Wednesday the tea ceremony was repeated and the smuggling of chocolate or flasks of whiskey (Jorge Edwards performed the same function), elements prohibited in the artist’s diet.
-When there are many people I become a clown because I am essentially shy. Also disinterested, I left three houses without taking anything.
And he changes the subject: “When Frei came, a lady asked me where to put the medal and I obviously answered her in the poto. Also on the way out they ask me what I think of the decoration and I answer Brum brum. What else was she going to say?”
On those Wednesdays while I was recording Matta, Ferrari did another task consisting of authenticating fake engravings of the artist, doing double business. Never a painting. So this explains the number of authenticated fake engravings circulating in the world and the low price they command. In the Alencon gallery, next to the Palacio de las Monedas, I bought four for 200 dollars.
The recording was thanks to Ferrari who wanted me to hide the Sony but Matta the second time told me: Why don’t you take out the machine once and for all and place it on the table?
As agreed, after ten weeks, I gave all the tapes to the painter’s wife without a copy for me. The reason was humiliating:
I pick up the book about Marta written by the philosopher Eduardo Carrasco and it was as if he had dictated the content to the recorder. It was all said, everything one hundred percent. Why did I want those tapes that would have overloaded my suitcase on my return to Chile if they contributed nothing?
Matta the insolent one who, in the middle of the Elysée dinner in honor of the Chiracs to the Frei on their state visit, shouted: “Matta, pico, cama.”
And he laughed out loud.
The dining room is huge, 200 people were talking in a way that went unnoticed.
In another silent corner Raúl Ruiz whispered: “How annoying it is to have to wait for the end of each speech to drink this exquisite wine.”
And I rescued it as an off record, from the mansion on rue de Lille.