in Hauterives, departmentof the Drôme, France,
the "ideal palace" of Ferdinand Cheval,
rural postman
(visit at the end of July 2021)
In the Drôme, a stubborn man erected a unique work from the 1880s.
He does not come from a well-born background ; son of a peasant, the only spoon he had in his mouth at his birth in 1836 is not of gold but of wood.
He has already dreamed of his palace, from his readings of the magazines he distributes.
One day, in his tour, he stumbles on a pebble so special that he knows immediately it will be the first stone of his Grail building. That will be its stumbling block.
Then, 43 old, he never ceases to create his"ideal palace", filled himself by a will to build it based on the unwavering conviction of his genius.
Nothing deviates him from his work over more than 33 years of his life.
He is Ferdinand Cheval, the "postman Cheval".
Like his contemporaries, in front of the camera, Ferdinand does not pose : he is.
Fierce, straight, whole.
The exact opposite of today's filthy selfies, ubic and instant narcissus.
Hauterives ; a pretty village, on a plateau east of the Rhône, between Valence and Romans.
Today it owes much of its prosperity to this palace, on the banks of the charming Galaure river coming from the Isère, which joins the Rhône to the southwest at St-Vallier.
Coquettish, pleasant and banal, a main street crossing, a medieval gate, the only vestige of a fortified enclosure ...
And if the statue of General de Miribel, a rather reactionary aristocrat, even anti-republican, who died here, swaggers on the crossroads at the foot of the church, the glory, well deserved, is only to his contemporary the modest postman.
There, in the short and flat valley below the main street was the garden of Ferdinand Cheval, where he erected his work, "fada" of the village in his time, called the "poor madman" by his neighbourgs.
His palace-work is not an absurd and dishevelled delirium, but thoughtful, abundant, inspired largely by his thirsty readings of the catalogues but especially of the rare magazines of the time that he delivered in the countryside, "Magasin pittoresque", "Revue Illustrée"...
In his work is recognized the inspiration of the palaces of India, perhaps Angkor-Wat, but we can also see according to the optimism of the moment the dead branches of frozen forests that would remain of a village flooded by a dam lake, or on the contrary the flames of a sacred bonfire.
Here are terraces, "walkways", small low galleries, stone chalices that could also be palm trees or torch of flames, huge characters, and multiple naïve and strong representations of a varied bestiary, sneering and clumsy gargoyles.
No surface is left bare.
All concentrated on 25 meters long, no more than 10 meters in its greatest width, and as much in height.
Modest and huge. Dazzling in the beautiful light of late July.
Especially when you contemplate it from a kind of porch-terrace isolated which he built, under which he has figured a sundial.
An almost stunned fascination, a powerful impression of serenity and harmony, very endearing, which we probably owe to the staging of the palace well cleared in the center of a largely sized, airy space, which was the poor garden of the postman.
The atmosphere is that of a happy place, exciting, smiling, exhilarating, surprising, which ask questions, sometimes moves.
A magnificent utopia, the exultation of a very organized dreamlike disorder, the successful transcription of a passion, the grandiose but on a human scale.
Far from the stupid insults of which his work was described and the contempt of his author from the academic technocrats of the "Culture" of the 60s, their minister André Malraux rightly considered the palace as an exceptional work of art and had it classified in 1969.
Malraux the mythomaniac and his tics of former cocaine addict, destroyer of bas-reliefs, thief of Khmer sacred antiquities, perhaps recognized here the inspiration of Angkor Wat and in Ferdinand a little of his own bubbling delirium.
For children, it is a magical attraction, of discoveries, surprises and a flight towards dreams, joy and freedom.
Part of the house that adjoins the palace, next to the entrance alley is also his work, his villa, the Villa Alicius.
To the right of the vault, under the porch, a poem among others pays tribute to him.
His author is a late contemporary of Ferdinand Cheval, who calls himself "the alpine bard", Emile Roux-Parassac, born in Sisteron in 1874 and who would have named the work "ideal palace", which Ferdinand then resumes.
With here and there an amused moving mention: "defense of writing about it".
His grave is another remarkable delirium.
He superbly calls it"the tomb of silence and endless rest."
One kilometer from his palace, we go there by bushy paths that move away from the village through fields of corn and sunflowers in bloom in this season.
It is an unmissable gable at the entrance of the village cemetery. For Ferdinand was forbidden to be buried in his palace.
Completed in 1922, it will take him 8 years to build it, after the "ideal palace".
There predominate arms vibrating like the short and innumerable tentacles of an alien, or tangled vines, perhaps sketched bodies that twist and try to free themselves from an unknown hell, vigorous roots that spiral, curl up, sturdy branches between which snake heads sting. At the end of which sometimes protrudes... one eye.
The whole is surmounted by arches, triumphal crowns, heavy drapes behind which is the black of hell ; and two large spikes that frame the entrance gate of the tomb.
With a degree of more mature completion in the safety of forms and their balance.
The comments, often innocently rhymed, the appeals to the reader that he writes on many walls of the "ideal palace" leave no doubt about the powerful conviction he had of his genius.
The indestructible faith in himself and his obstinacy, he sometimes says moved by the belief in god and the homeland, despite inhuman sufferings endured, but a foolproof health.
In the preamble, on the northeast end, he launches as a challenge:
" 1872 1912
10 THOUSAND DAYS
93 THOUSAND HOURS
33 YEARS OF PROOFS
MORE OPINIATRE
LET ME PUT ITSELF
AT WORK"
and also, at the foot of the three smiling giants:"In the field of labor, I wait for my winner".
He foresees, visionary, the success of his work, and anticipates the safety instructions for the visit of children:"DEFENSE OF NOTHING TOUCH. In order to avoid accidents, parents are asked to supervise their children." Visits that began in 1905 at his wise initiative.
On the north-east façade, he writes:"From a dream I took out the queen of the world". and also a bit of naïve poetry about his inspiration.
And several times the affirmation of his unalterable determination (in a tunnel) :"My will was as strong as this rock" or "By creating this rock, I wanted to prove what the will can do".
His loneliness and pride:"Work of one man".
Or elsewhere that of universal fraternity:"All good men, all peoples are brothers, our motto is to love them all".
In the past, kings and clergy, Incas, Greeks and pharaohs long before, collected huge subsidies for the work of cohorts of architects, craftsmen, artists, builders, all mobilized towards a single goal, to produce superb monuments to their glory or that of a divine entity.
There, the means are obvious : with the salary of an employee at the Post Office, it took only one person, alone, and his valiant wheelbarrow.
And especially time.
But also the extraordinary lever of an indescribable tenacity, of a totally inspired imagination.
The exegesis is numerous about the character and his sole production, about his life (film, books). Some are the subject of the beautiful adjoining museum.
More will come. For the mystery of the inspiring and creative power that delivers such a work, exclusive to a person, always remains.
Without even dwelling on the vain debate of the nature of his art: first, raw, naïve ???
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