From Image into Art: Art after Byzantine Iconoclasm Author(s): Charles Barber Reviewed work(s): Source: Gesta,

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From Image into Art: Art after Byzantine Iconoclasm

CHARLES BARBER Universityof Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

Abstract This paper argues that within a history of the medieval image, there remain some stories of art. The changing patterns in the discussion of the image during Byzantine iconoclasm providethe materialfor this argument. These indicatethat later iconophilewritersneeded to construct a notion of the image that rejected the implications of presence apparent in the writingsof earlier iconophiles and iconoclasts. In so doing, these later, iconophiles produce theories of the image ninth-century that suggest echoes of latertheories of art in theirstress upon the formal relation between the painting and the one painted. Hans Belting opens his account of European medieval images, Bild und Kult: Eine Geschichte des Bildes vor dem Zeitalter der Kunst, with the following statement:"A history of the image is something other than a history of art."' He then proceeds to outline this difference at great length in a masterly discourse on medieval imagery. His analysis is predicated, as his title suggests, on the belief that sixteenthcentury Europe saw a rupturein the perception of the work of art. Before this period the work of art should be thought of as an image and above all should be perceived in terms of its cult function. After this period, the work of art, no longer the image, should be considered in terms of its framing by an aesthetic discourse born of the Renaissance and the Reformation.2 The primary object of this discussion is, of course, the image or icon: not just the wooden painted panel that we customarily associate with this latter term, but any religious image produced within medieval society, be it silver, mosaic, bronze, whatever.3 All of these were embraced by the
word or iKtKWv imago. In his book Belting refines this broad

possibility of our entry into this relationship. He sets the power of images in opposition to what he identifies as the powerlessness of theologians.6 In doing this, he expresses disquiet about the specialist narratives that are brought to bear on the meaning of the image and so gives primacy of place to evidence of popular cult practice. This implicit distinction between popular and elite, practice and theory is not so apparentin medieval texts. For example, in the Orations of John of Damascus (discussed below) theological argument and "popular"evidence sit side by side.7 Nevertheless, Bild und Kult is underpinnedby a strong opposition between theory and practice, with the history of the image firmly planted on the side of practice. The book, therefore, sets out a major case for a distinct interpretationof medieval art, one that privileges belief in the image over theories about art.
Clearly, the interpretation of the term

important to Belting's thesis. He argues from a very clear definition that draws on the potential implications of the cult portrait. In this paper I will follow an alternative line. In contrast to Belting this will draw on the primarily theological language which framed the perception of the term image. I do this in order to investigate the history of this word in the context that is perhaps most conscious of the need to examine the limits of its potential meaning.8My argumentsderive from those put forward at the time of the iconoclast dispute in Byzantium. For one hundred and forty years during the eighth and ninth centuries the Byzantine Empire was split by a lengthy debate over the nature of religious imagery. Over siderably. At the startthe image was treated in a mannerthat drew upon issues that arose from the cultic nature of the object; indeed, it is the issue of cult that was central to the concerns of both sides in the argument.By the end, however, the analysis of the nature and implications of representation have radically altered the interpretationof the image, isolating it from the possibilities in cult practice while maintaining its place at the center of religious belief. This movement represents a shift in ways of thinking about images. It is through these various formulations that a partial history of
the meaning of a term such as
EiK Kv

siK)v

or imago is

the period of this dispute the definition of iEiK)v varied con-

definition by offering a very precise interpretationwhereby for him the image is the portrait:the imago "usually represented a person and was therefore treated as a person."4This is a key definition, suggesting that the full implications of representation are explored in the treatment that the image receives. Here image and cult are broughttogether and made interdependent. The image is to be treated in a manner that confuses portrait and portrayed. This fusion is constructed within cult practice, and within this resides the power of images." This concern with the relationship between the image and its subject is a standardtheme in the lengthy medieval discussions on the subject of the visual arts (see below). But Belting introduces a second theme that problematizes the
GESTAXXXIV/1 ? The InternationalCenter of Medieval Art 1995

can be written. The

pivotal text is that offered by PatriarchNikephoros of Constantinople; Nikephoros' argumentsrepresent a fundamental shift in the perception of the image-icon.9 One of Nikephoros' chief concerns was to distinguish clearly between the icon and worship. Consequently he was to argue that the image was indeed a work of art. Where Belting draws upon
5

the cult function of the image to define his account of medieval art, Nikephoros opens other possibilities of interpretation and as such raises questions about Belting's totalizing account of medieval art history. Rather than making the image the only point of reference for medieval art history, I will suggest that the interplay of notions of the cultic image and the work of art was a fruitful aspect of the medieval discourse on art. In what follows, I will argue that Belting's identification of the proper subject of medieval art history is too narrow. In particular,he privileges the cult aspect of medieval imagery to the virtual exclusion of those instances when writers on medieval imagery sought to define notions of the work of art around the image.10In this paper I will examine one instance of the discussion of "art"in the Middle Ages. Using the debates that emerged in the course of Byzantine iconoclasm in the eighth and ninth centuries, I will arguethat a medieval "art"necessarily existed prior to "the age of art.""1 The period of Byzantine iconoclasm produced an enormous literatureon the natureof the image and its place in worship. In the early years of the dispute the iconophile case is most famously set down by Johnof Damascusin threeorations datedto the years around730.12 In these, John was responding to the initiation of an iconoclast policy by the Byzantine emperorLeo III.13John is perhapsour majorrecordof the nature of Leo's attack,which revolved aroundthe charge of idolatry. It appearsthat Leo arguedthat the representationof Christ in the icon contravened the prohibition on images of God set To down in the Second Commandment. counterthis argument John defended both images and their worship.14 In his third oration John of Damascus asked: "What is His an image?""1 answer was the constructionof a cosmology of images that carried with it connotations of the neoPlatonism of Late Antiquity.16 This cosmology, which embraced the painted icon, found its paradigmin the trinitarian conceptualization of the relationship of God the Father to God the Son.17 The Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth century were the first to formulate the relationship in this manner. God the Son was understoodto be the image of God the Father.Within this conception Fatherand Son were linked by an essential unity manifest in different forms. Hence, while the image differs from that which it re-presents,just as the Father differs from the Son, there remains, nonetheless, an essential relationship, a common essence, that sustains the relation of the image and that which it represents.The image, therefore, at an essential level, participatesto some degree in that of which it is the image.' 18 What the image purportsto represent is this participation, which underlies the belief that the image could be treated in some manneras the thing itself. This theory of participation and identity is echoed in the notion of the image that Belting investigates.19 That such an interpretation is valid can be seen in a famous iconoclast text from the ninth century which indicates that icons could be seen as partici6

pants in that of which they were the image. In their letter to the Carolingian EmperorLouis the Pious the Byzantine Emperors Michael II and Theophilos criticized practices around images that reveal the sense of participation implied in the writings of John of Damascus. For example, they criticize priests who scrape images and mix this material into the eucharistic gifts. Similarly, they criticize those who treat icons as if they were persons, using them as godparents to their children.20 This last point is attested to in iconophile literature by Theodore Studites.21 all of these cases cult practice In underlines a belief in the image's essential participation in that which it represents. This sense of participation is underpinned by John's determination to assert the sanctity of matter in the postincarnational world. In his defense of the icon John had sought to integrate the material icon into his broader cosmology of the image. In order for the icon to share in John's trinitarian participatory model its material nature, a key point of attack by the iconoclasts, needed to be sanctioned. For John the incarnation had provided for this possibility. Christ's coming into the world had filled the material nature with divine grace. Matter was now licit: "I do not worship matter, I worship the maker of matter, who became matter for me and who dwelt in matter and who has achieved my salvation through matter."22 John of Damascus's interpretationof the icon as a part of a wider cosmology depended upon the reality of this incarnation and its consequent redemption of the material world.23 That this icon theory was working within a similar paradigmto that of the iconoclasts is suggested by the degree to which the Orationscan be read as engaged responses to the policies of Leo 111.24 This point is reiteratedby the strong response of ConstantineV to the introduction,by John and his contemporaryiconophiles, of a christological argumentinto the original theological terms of the debate.25 For Constantine, the image sharedan essential relation with that of which it was the image. This relation was expressed in terms of the notion of circumscription(rcptaypatpi). For Constantine this meantthat the image participatedin that which it represented, His physically affecting it throughthe act of representation.26 model for this was the real presence in the eucharistic gifts.27 The eucharist witnessed the transformationof the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. Through this action they became a true image of Christ within the terms of Constantine'strinitariandiscourse. For the icon to be a true image it would also have to be transformed. This essentialist reading of the relation between the image and its archetype indicates the common basis for interpretationsharedby Constantineand John of Damascus. John of Damascus had used his trinitariandiscourse to argue for the icon. This was possible because Christ, being incarnate, had redeemed matter, which could now participate to some degree in the divine essence.28This, for John of Damascus, was celebrated in the icon.29But Constantine was to draw a

different conclusion from this same premise. For Constantine, the essentialist discourse precluded the possibility that the icon could be thought of as a true image of Christ. His argument was based on the belief that the icon, as a mere material object, could not share the same essence as Christ, who was both human-materialand divine-immaterial. If the icon were to claim that it could circumscribe Christ, then it would also have to claim that it could circumscribe the divine, and this went against the basic prohibition against the representation of the divinity found in the Second Commandment. For Constantine, the presence of Christ within the icon presented a threat to the divine nature in Christ. Either the icon claimed to represent Christ's divine nature, or it excluded it. In either case, a gross heresy was committed. Hence, if Christ could not be wholly present in the icon then the icon, for Constantine, was not a true image.30 Constantinehas made an importantdistinction here. The image and the icon are not to be confused. For Constantine, John of Damascus has blurred the boundaries between the Byzantine trinitarianconcept of the image and the image-asobject, the icon. Both John of Damascus and Constantine V had defined an essentialist, participatorynotion of the image. For the one, this legitimated the icon as an image within a cosmology of images, for the other it condemned the icon for not being a true image. For the Damascene there was a trace of presence in the icon, that made it a part of a greaterwhole. For Constantine such presence was an impossibility because of the essential difference between the icon and its archetype, the human-divine Christ. Instead, the emperor privileged the real presence of the transformed eucharist as a true image. Therefore, for both John and Constantine the ground to be debated was that of the question of presence in the image. Predicated upon an essentialist reading of the image derived from trinitariandiscourse, this led to a belief that the image could be treated as if it were that of which it was the image. It is this discourse of presence that lies at the heart of Belting's notion of the medieval image. The lengthiest and most direct refutation of Constantine's eucharistic arguments was made by Nikephoros in his This was written ca. 818writings entitled Antirrhetikos.31 820, after the Patriarchhad resigned his office in 815 at the onset of a fresh period of official iconoclasm. This text marks a significant shift in the language employed to legitimate religious imagery. Effectively, the Patriarch was to re-define the image-as-icon as a work of art. He thus provides us with a language for offering reservations about Belting's definition of the medieval image.32 In the ninth century Nikephoros abandonedthe trinitarian discourse of presence. In its place he argued a formalist definition of the relationship between the icon and that which it represented: In fact it is in his circumscription (mrptypatpi) that he is of necessity present (?ncdpoactv). his painting he is not In

at all present.. . for while a man is certainly inscribed in (ypa'pe'rat) his icon, he is not circumscribed here, only in the place proper to circumscription. And the means of these are clearly distinct. For one inscribes a man through pigments and mosaics, as the situation demands, so producing his figure with varied and many means, and differing in brilliances. Never but never is it a question of circumscribing by these means, since it has been said that circumscriptionis something else again. Moreover, painting makes present the corporeal form of the one depicted, imprinting its contour and its sensible form and its likeness. Whereas circumscription, having nothing in common with these three modes of which we have spoken, delimits boundaries. Hence the inscription has a relation in terms of likeness to the archetype and is an inscription of the archetype.33 Nikephoros' point draws on those made by Constantine. For both there is an essential difference between the icon and that which it represents. For Constantine this made the icon illegitimate. For Nikephoros it is this difference that legitimates religious art. Constantine dismissed the icon because he believed that it could not be a true image. For him the image must circumscribe the thing represented, underlining the belief that they shared a common essence. For Nikephoros, this notion of circumscription was inappropriateto the interpretationof the icon. The icon does not circumscribe the one it depicts. If it were to do so then it would threatenthe divine naturethat is a part of Christ. To prevent this threat from coming to fruition the possibility of presence had to be excluded from the image. This required a fundamentalshift in the debate from an essentialist notion of the image to a formalist one. This is expressed through the idea of "likeness" (6ioifootq). This is a purely visual and surface relation. In practice it meant that the depiction of Christ could no longer claim to participate in the essence of Christ. Theirs is a relation of inscription rather than circumscription. The icon of Christ cannot be Christ, it can only look like Christ.34 The relation between the icon and its archetype, the icon of Christ and Christ himself, has thus moved from being an essentialist one to being a formalist one. With this change of conception, Nikephoros has left behind the essentialism of John of Damascus and Constantine. In its place he has opened up the possibility of the work of art, of a purely formal relation between icon and archetype. The major consequence of this change of perception was the construction of a notion of a form of religious representationthat avoided the dangers inherent in the presence implied by an essentialist discourse. The image was thereby effectively distanced from the expectations of cultic practices. For Nikephoros the icon of Christ (as discussed within this eucharistic discourse) is simply a work of art, no longer an image that can be considered as the one it re-presents.35 7

Once he had distinguished his concept of the icon from that of the image, Nikephoros arguedfor the self-legitimation of the icon: For often some difficulties and disputes arise from words, and in all likelihood diverse thoughts are broughtforth in souls. Many people produce contradictions and disputes both within themselves and with others, not understanding what is said. But belief is gained from visible things, acquired anywhere free from ambiguity. Up to this point each of them has something in common, so that in one and the same book, as one can see in very ancient documents, inscribed alternately,here the discourse in syllables, there throughrepresentation,and they show what is indicated in the writing. Thus the text of the Gospel is itself trustworthy for Christians,not needing anothertext or anotherdiscourse which guarantees it, or which gives witness in its favor as being worthy of veneration or of glory. Similarly the painting of divine representations, which are of the same things as the Gospel narrative,produces faith by this fact and requires nothing that is extrinsic as proof; painting signifies the facts of the Gospels and requiresthe same honor.36 In this text the icon is given the same value as the written word in manifesting the events of the Gospel. Both are distinct and valid means of presenting the events of the Gospel narrative. Each has its own relation with the narrative.The one is manifest in words, the other in pictures. The relation is that of "homonymy" for the word, and "likeness" for the image. In drawing out this comparison Nikephoros has argued that a distinct visual discourse exists. His legitimation of this discourse derived from the common likeness between the body of the one portrayedin the icon and the reality of that body in history. At root this legitimation within Christianity is circular. On the one hand the icon is legitimate because of its visual, corporeal relation (expressed in the term "likeness") to that which it represents.On the otherhand what the icon represents is considered to be real because the icon itself exists. All of this revolves aroundthe notion of the continuing reality of Christ'sincarnation.It is the incarnation that makes the icon possible, the icon in turn affirms the reality of the incarnation.37 Throughthese argumentsof Nikephoros we can see the ways in which the ideas that framed the image shifted in the course of iconoclasm. Notions of presence in the image, embedded in the essentialist discourse, were rejected for a formalist reading of the relationship of the icon and its archetype. In so doing Nikephoros allows us to speak of a Byzantine art after iconoclasm. That this identification of an art was necessary is a product of the rejection of the essentialist concept of the image in its application to the icons. This matteredbecause the icons in turn served a purpose as the proof of the corporeality of Christ. 8

This shift in the discourse about images raises questions about Belting's all-embracing definition of the medieval image. Grounded in the expectations of presence inherent in cult practice, his argument is akin to that prevalent at the start of the iconoclast dispute, in which the terms of reference for the discussion of the image were essentialist. What I hope to have shown in this paper is that the iconoclast dispute moved on from these terms of debate. Nikephoros demonstrates that the essentialist paradigmcould be replaced by a formalist one. Through this discourse shift Nikephoros broke with the Late Antique notion of the image and in its stead placed the icon, an autonomous visual discourse. This developed series of arguments between theologians shows the possibilities that could be identified in the term CiK)v. Further,it suggests that theologians felt that they could alter the way in which the image was perceived, negotiating its licit boundaries through an examination of the terms of reference employed within the debate. What is apparentfrom the linguistic explorations of Nikephoros is that the clear distinction between the medieval image and the post-medieval work of art is open to question. We might say that within the history of the image there remain stories of art. Given this material from Byzantium, I would thus wish to alter Belting's statement a little and suggest that it ought to read: "A history of images is sometimes other than a history of art."38

NOTES 1. H. Belting, Bild und Kult: Eine Geschichte des Bildes vor dem Zeitalter der Kunst, 2nd ed. (Munich, 1991), 9: "Eine Geschichte des Bildes ist etwas anderes als eine Geschichte der Kunst." This book is now available in translation: H. Belting, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image Before the Era ofArt, trans.E. Jephcott (Chicago, 1994). In particularsee the first and last chapters of Belting, Bild und Kult, 11-27 and 510-45. This point is thankfully a commonplace one these days. For an example of the flexibility of the term one might note the lists of "icons" to be found in the administrative typika of Byzantine monasteries, e.g., the eleventh-century Diataxis of Michael Attaliates (P. Gautier, "La Diataxis de Michel Attaliate,"Revue des itudes byzantines, XLIX [1989], 89-90). Belting, Bild und Kult, 9: " ... stellte gew6ihnlicheine Person dar und wurde deshalb auch wie eine Person behandelt."For importantreservations about this definition see the discussion in the review of this book by Michael Camille, The Art Bulletin, LXXIV (1992), 514-15. Belting, Bild und Kult, 13-17. Belting, Bild und Kult, 11-19: "Die Macht der Bilder und die Ohnmachtder Theologen." This opposition does not prevent Belting from employing theological evidence as a part of his argument. The text of John'sOrationsis availablein a recentedition:B. Kotter,Die Schriftendes Johannesvon Damaskos,5 vols. (Berlin, 1975), III.My references are to this text. John appends a mixture of "theoretical"and "popular"statements with commentariesto his three orations (Kotter, Schriften, III, 146ff.), suggesting that he draws no distinction between

2. 3.

4.

5. 6.

7.

these types of material.The same can be said of the Second Council of Nicaea (787), in which theory and practiceare both employed as proofs: Sacrorumconciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, ed. J. D. Mansi, 53 vols. (Paris-Leipzig, 1901-1927), XII, 951-XIII, 380E. 8. Belting asks how might we speak of the image (Bild und Kult, 12) and suggests that it is through cult practice. In this paper, in contrast, I will examine the term itself and its history. This method of approach is based in the belief that we need to learn a vocabularythat is historically appropriatein order to speak of the art of the past. For this we need to attend to the theories that provide one part of the discourse on art. 9. A list of other theologians can be drawn up to supplement the sometimes unoriginal work of Nikephoros, the work of Theodore Studites being only the most obvious. Nevertheless, the length and detail of Nikephoros' arguments perhaps give us the fullest insight into ninthcentury iconophile thought. 10. I am thinking of the theologians (Byzantine and Carolingian) of the ninth century in eastern and western Europe who formulated notions of the work of art while negotiating the nature of the cult image. For Byzantium see the discussion below. For the Carolingian world see A. Freeman, "Theodulf of Orleans and the Libri Carolini," Speculum, XXXII (1957), 663-705. 11. This paper was originally written for delivery at a conference, and was not at that time intended for publication. It therefore draws heavily on two papers that I have recently published: C. Barber, "From Transformation to Desire: Art and Worship after Byzantine Iconoclasm," The Art Bulletin, LXXV (1993), 7-16, and C. Barber, "The body within the frame: a use of word and image in iconoclasm," Word& Image, IX (1993), 140-53. The reader will find that a numberof points raised in this paper are discussed more fully in the earlier articles. 12. For the iconophile writings of John of Damascus see the edition of his works: B. Kotter, Schriften, III. A helpful translation exists: St. John of Damascus, On the Divine Images, trans. D. Anderson (Crestwood, 1980). For a recent discussion of John's contribution to the iconoclast debates see J. Pelikan, Imago Dei: The Byzantine Apologia for Icons (New Haven and London, 1990), 170-82 and passim. The contributions of Germanos of Constantinople and George of Cyprus to the iconophile case will not be discussed here. 13. The discussion of the outbreakof iconoclasm has produced a massive literature. Some recent, and various, contributions include: A. Cameron, "The Language of Images: The Rise of Icons and ChristianRepresentation," in The Church and the Arts, ed. D. Wood (Studies in Church History, XXVIII) (Oxford, 1992), 1-42; M.-F. Auz6py, "La destruction de l'ic6ne du Christ de la Chalc6 par Leon III: Propagande ou r6alit6?" Byzantion, LX (1990), 445-92; R. Cormack, Writing in Gold: Byzantine Society and its Icons (London, 1985), 95-140; D. Stein, Der Beginn des byzantinischen Bilderstreits und seine Entwicklung bis in die 40er Jahre des 8. Jahrhunderts (Munich, 1980). That John is responding to imperial policy is suggested by his references to the emperor within his text: Or. I, 66 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 166-67, lines 10-12); Or. II, 6 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 73, line 18); Or. II, 12 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 102-4); Or. II, 16 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 113, lines 64-66). 14. It is notable that iconophiles wished to draw this distinction in their arguments, whereas iconoclasts sought to exploit the confusion of image and worship in their construction of an attack on the image. Compare the examples of Constantine V and John of Damascus discussed in this paper. 15. Kotter, Schriften, III, 125, line 1. 16. Pelikan, Imago Dei, 175-82. On the relation of Byzantine image theories to those of Late Antique neo-Platonism see now M. Barasch, Icon: Studies in the History of an Idea (New York and London, 1992).

17. G. Ladner, "The Concept of the Image in the Greek Fathers and the Byzantine Iconoclastic Controversy,"DOP, VII (1953), 1-34. On the relation of trinitarianand christological thinkingduringiconoclasm see P. Henry, "What was the Iconoclastic Controversy About?" Church History, XLV (1976), 16-31. 18. Interpretations this section vary greatly. Barasch, Icon, 192ff. interof prets John of Damascus as stressing the formalist potential in the icon's relationship to that of which it is the icon. C. Sch6nborn, L'icone du Christ: Fondements theologiques, 3rd ed. (Paris, 1986), 191-200 argues for a latent essentialism in this relationship, identifying a sense of participation in the icon's relationship to that of which it is the icon. This author prefers Sch6nborn's reading. 19. On this sense of identity one should note the importance placed on the portrait image in Belting's reading of medieval art, Belting, Bild und Kult, 54-59 for example. 20. Sacrorum conciliorum nova et amplissima collectio, ed. J. D. Mansi, 53 vols. (Paris-Leipzig, 1901-1927), XIV, 420B-420E. 21. Letter 1.17, Migne PG, XCIX, 961B. 22. See Or. II, 14: Kotter, Schriften, III, 105, esp. lines 12-15. The importance of matter to John is emphasized by Schinborn, L'icone, 191-200. In his Orations John devotes a great deal of space to the defense of matter (ikrj):Or. I, 16 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 89-92); Or. II, 14-16 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 105-8, 111-14). In general see S. Gero, Byzantine Iconoclasm During the Reign of Constantine V: With Particular Reference to the Oriental Sources (Louvain, 1977). To this can be added the discussion and references in and Barber, "Transformation" Barber, "Body." Nikephoros is our major source for the argumentsproposed by Constantine. A variation on the emperor'scase was accepted by the iconoclast council of 754, see Icon and Logos, trans. D. Sahas (Toronto, 1986), 47-169 for these texts.

23.

24. See the references in note 13. 25.

26. Barber, "Transformation,"10-11. 27. Migne, PG, C, 225A and 337C-D. Discussed in S. Gero, "The Eucharistic Doctrine of the Byzantine Iconoclasts and its Sources," Byzantinische Zeitschrift, LXVIII (1975), 4-22. 28. This issue of the relationship of the human and the divine in Christ was one of the central themes in Byzantine religious debate. For a survey of this discussion see J. Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought, 2nd ed. (Crestwood, 1975), passim. 29. Or. I, 8 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 80-83). 30. 31. Migne, PG, C, 236C, 248D-249A, and 296C. Barber,"Transformation," passim and Barber"Body," passim for discussion. The Antirrhetikoscan be found at Migne, PG, C, 205-533. A French translationis available: Nicephorus, Discours contre les iconoclastes, trans. M. J. Mondzain-Baudinet (Paris, 1989).

32. Discussions of the aesthetic theories of Nikephoros can be found in J. Travis, In defense of the faith: the theology of Patriarch Nikephoros of Constantinople (Brookline, 1984), 44-60; V. Byikov, "Die isthetischen Anschauungen des PatriarchenNikephoros," Byzantinoslavica, L (1989), 181-92. 33. Migne, PG, C, 357B-357D. 34. "Likeness" is a central issue for Nikephoros, legitimating the icon itself. See Barber, "Body," 149-53, G. Dagron, "Destins de l'image," Nouvelle Revue de psychanalyse, XLIV (1991), 151-68, and G. Dagron, "Holy Images and Likeness," DOP, XLV (1991), 23-33 for discussion of some of the implications of "likeness" in icons.

35. This point is argued at length in Barber, "Transformation," passim. Such a reading does not preclude cultic activity being brought to bear on the icon. It does, however, provide a theoreticalbasis for a symbolic of interpretation such practice, thus making the icon safe in theoryfrom the lurking danger of idolatry. 36. Migne, PG, C, 384A-384A. For a discussion of this text see Barber, "Body," 146-49.

37. This point is developed in Barber, "Body," passim and K. Parry, "Theodore Studites and the PatriarchNicephorus on Image-makingas Christian Imperative,"Byzantion, XLIX (1989), 164-83. 38. My thanks are due to Henry Maguire for organizing this session and to the British Academy and the College Art Association for helping to make my attendance possible.

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