The Geometry of the Sacred
Charles Filiger didn’t care about the flies or the smell of manure in the Brittany countryside. He didn’t want to capture the grit of rural life or the sweat on a laborer’s brow. In 1892 he painted the Breton Cowherd as if he were carving a saint out of light and cold mathematics. He stripped the boy down into rigid geometric shapes. It was a visual exorcism of the messy real world performed on a small sheet of paper.
Filiger was the darling of the occult scene in Paris. Sâr Peladan, a man who called himself a Sâr and wore robes while hunting for spiritual truth, saw something in Filiger that the mainstream galleries missed. While the Impressionists were busy chasing the flicker of sunlight, Filiger was chasing the eternal. He used gouache and charcoal to create a surface so matte it looked like an ancient fresco pulled from a damp wall. It is dry, and still, and utterly silent.
The painting made its debut at the first Salon de la Rose + Croix. This was not a show for the casual Sunday crowd. It was a gathering of seekers and esoterics looking for magic in the dawn of steam engines and factories. This work is only about twelve inches tall, but it functions like a massive religious icon. It demands a different kind of looking. It’s not a landscape, it’s a portal designed for a world that has forgotten how to pray. Filiger died broke and forgotten in 1928, but he left behind these crystalline visions. He proved that you don’t need a cathedral to find the divine. Sometimes you just need a model and enough geometry to keep the chaos of the world at bay.
References
Cassou, Jean. The Concise Encyclopedia of Symbolism. Secaucus, NJ: Chartwell Books, 1979.
Gibson, Michael. Symbolism. Cologne: Taschen, 1995.
Lucie-Smith, Edward. Symbolist Art. New York: Thames and Hudson, 1972.