From Image into Art: Art after Byzantine Iconoclasm

Author(s): Charles Barber

Source: Gesta, Vol. 34, No. 1 (1995), pp. 5-10
Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the International Center of Medieval Art
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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 me-
dieval image, there remain some stories of art. The
changing patterns in the discussion of the image during
Byzantine iconoclasm providethe materialfor this argu-
ment. These indicatethat later iconophilewritersneeded
to construct a notion of the image that rejected the im-
plications of presence apparent in the writingsof earlier
iconophiles and iconoclasts. In so doing, these later,
ninth-centuryiconophiles produce theories of the image
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 sixteenth-
century 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 fram-
ing 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, mo-
saic, bronze, whatever.3 All of these were embraced by the
word iKtKWvor imago. In his book Belting refines this broad
definition by offering a very precise interpretationwhereby
for him the image is the portrait:the imago "usually repre-
sented 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 im-
ages." 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
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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 dis-
tinction 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 argu-
ment 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 or imago is
si•K•)v
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 theologi-
cal 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 exam-
ine 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
the period of this dispute the definition of iEiK)v varied con-
siderably. At the startthe image was treated in a mannerthat
drew upon issues that arose from the cultic nature of the ob-
ject; indeed, it is the issue of cult that was central to the con-
cerns 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, isolat-
ing it from the possibilities in cult practice while maintain-
ing 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 can be written. The
pivotal text is that offered by PatriarchNikephoros of Con-
stantinople; Nikephoros' argumentsrepresent a fundamental
shift in the perception of the image-icon.9 One of Nike-
phoros' 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 me-
dieval art, Nikephoros opens other possibilities of interpre-
tation and as such raises questions about Belting's totalizing
account of medieval art history. Rather than making the im-
age 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 dis-
course 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 ima-
gery 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 in-
stance of the discussion of "art"in the Middle Ages. Using
the debates that emerged in the course of Byzantine icono-
clasm in the eighth and ninth centuries, I will arguethat a me-
dieval "art"necessarily existed prior to "the age of art.""1
The period of Byzantine iconoclasm produced an enor-
mous literatureon the natureof the image and its place in wor-
ship. 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 em-
perorLeo 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
down in the Second Commandment.To counterthis argument
John defended both images and their worship.14
In his third oration John of Damascus asked: "What is
an image?""1His answer was the constructionof a cosmology
of images that carried with it connotations of the neo-
Platonism of Late Antiquity.16 This cosmology, which em-
braced 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 cen-
tury were the first to formulate the relationship in this man-
ner. 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 participa-
tion, which underlies the belief that the image could be
treated in some manneras the thing itself. This theory of par-
ticipation 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 partici-
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pants in that of which they were the image. In their letter to
the Carolingian EmperorLouis the Pious the Byzantine Em-
perors 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 eu-
charistic 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 litera-
ture by Theodore Studites.21In all of these cases cult practice
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 post-
incarnational world. In his defense of the icon John had
sought to integrate the material icon into his broader cos-
mology 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 re-
sponse of ConstantineV to the introduction,by John and his
contemporaryiconophiles, of a christological argumentinto
the original theological terms of the debate.25 For Constan-
tine, 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,
physically affecting it throughthe act of representation.26 His
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 Con-
stantine'strinitariandiscourse. For the icon to be a true image
it would also have to be transformed.
This essentialist reading of the relation between the im-
age and its archetype indicates the common basis for inter-
pretationsharedby 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 Constan-
tine, 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 di-
vine, and this went against the basic prohibition against the
representation of the divinity found in the Second Com-
mandment. For Constantine, the presence of Christ within
the icon presented a threat to the divine nature in Christ. Ei-
ther 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-as-
object, 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 Belt-
ing's notion of the medieval image.
The lengthiest and most direct refutation of Constan-
tine's eucharistic arguments was made by Nikephoros in his
writings entitled Antirrhetikos.31This was written ca. 818-
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 legi-
timate religious imagery. Effectively, the Patriarch was to
re-define the image-as-icon as a work of art. He thus pro-
vides us with a language for offering reservations about
Belting's definition of the medieval image.32
In the ninth century Nikephoros abandonedthe trinitar-
ian 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).In his painting he is not
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at all present.. . for while a man is certainly inscribed
(ypa'pe'rat)in 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 pro-
ducing his figure with varied and many means, and dif-
fering 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, paint-
ing makes present the corporeal form of the one depicted,
imprinting its contour and its sensible form and its like-
ness. Whereas circumscription, having nothing in com-
mon 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 legiti-
mates 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 Nike-
phoros, 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 frui-
tion 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 be-
ing an essentialist one to being a formalist one. With this
change of conception, Nikephoros has left behind the essen-
tialism 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 con-
sequence 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 essential-
ist discourse. The image was thereby effectively distanced
from the expectations of cultic practices. For Nikephoros the
icon of Christ (as discussed within this eucharistic dis-
course) is simply a work of art, no longer an image that can
be considered as the one it re-presents.35
 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 understand-
ing 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 trustwor-
thy for Christians,not needing anothertext or anotherdis-
course 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; paint-
ing 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 dis-
tinct 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 ar-
gued 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 Chris-
tianity 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 essen-
tialist 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.
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This shift in the discourse about images raises questions
about Belting's all-embracing definition of the medieval im-
age. 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 refer-
ence for the discussion of the image were essentialist. What
I hope to have shown in this paper is that the iconoclast dis-
pute moved on from these terms of debate. Nikephoros dem-
onstrates 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 ref-
erence employed within the debate. What is apparentfrom
the linguistic explorations of Nikephoros is that the clear dis-
tinction 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 Belt-
ing'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 Zeit-
alter 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).
2. In particularsee the first and last chapters of Belting, Bild und Kult,
11-27 and 510-45.
3. This point is thankfully a commonplace one these days. For an ex-
ample 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).
4. Belting, Bild und Kult, 9: " ... stellte gew6ihnlicheine Person dar und
wurde deshalb auch wie eine Person behandelt."For importantreser-
vations about this definition see the discussion in the review of this
book by Michael Camille, The Art Bulletin, LXXIV (1992), 514-15.
5. Belting, Bild und Kult, 13-17.
6. 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.
7. The text of John'sOrationsis availablein a recentedition:B. Kotter,Die
Schriftendes Johannesvon Damaskos,5 vols. (Berlin, 1975), III.My ref-
erences 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
 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 some-
times 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 ninth-
century 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 Transfor-
mation 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 (Crest-
wood, 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. Cam-
eron, "The Language of Images: The Rise of Icons and ChristianRep-
resentation," 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 Entwick-
lung 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 ar-
guments, 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 theo-
ries to those of Late Antique neo-Platonism see now M. Barasch, Icon:
Studies in the History of an Idea (New York and London, 1992).
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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. Interpretationsof this section vary greatly. Barasch, Icon, 192ff. inter-
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 ar-
gues 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 im-
portance of matter to John is emphasized by Schinborn, L'icone,
191-200.
23. In his Orations John devotes a great deal of space to the defense of
matter (i•krj):Or. I, 16 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 89-92); Or. II, 14-16
(Kotter, Schriften, III, 105-8, 111-14).
24. See the references in note 13.
25. 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
Barber, "Transformation"and Barber, "Body." Nikephoros is our ma-
jor 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.
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 Chris-
tian Thought, 2nd ed. (Crestwood, 1975), passim.
29. Or. I, 8 (Kotter, Schriften, III, 80-83).
30. Migne, PG, C, 236C, 248D-249A, and 296C.
31. Barber,"Transformation,"passim and Barber"Body," passim for dis-
cussion. The Antirrhetikoscan be found at Migne, PG, C, 205-533. A
French translationis available: Nicephorus, Discours contre les icon-
oclastes, 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 Nike-
phoros of Constantinople (Brookline, 1984), 44-60; V. Byikov, "Die
isthetischen Anschauungen des PatriarchenNikephoros," Byzantino-
slavica, 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. Da-
gron, "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
interpretationof 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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