9'! ' 1. . ”U . . ( Lo). 1. 1..“ . . . ., pHH‘ I mm..«,_. 1 rumawnt‘wwaq . . ll, . 5 . «fling ‘tfi LL44? . . :in. Lu\umn.,l..u.lav O I I O ‘ ‘tfi ' n: A; r 4*, .1}: :3,“ z: ‘ ,6? .,. 1* 1? II!" ‘c ‘3“ I. . . 68:“ l‘ ‘ H d l 94. (r .2) \. (.‘FQI . 3&3” a! i ._.V. I 13% £5 \ . . - u ! .I... t I - ‘- ‘v - t ' . I ~ I . ., n.-.-‘,:- ‘ I. . . . . In ‘ l u . ,V I _ , .u .' w n I ' § :3 . .. mudnjatp ‘ n 4A .. 1.1%. it? I C . .))«.l-III.I)(1.:!. .. . t 21%,.ttfllwlhflp} ‘ . .;... . a.” «an . ~n5{‘JnMIP.nI 3.? _ J. . w t I’ll £014.}. ler.'. .4.. 2 - “I”; 9.."qu 1&1 e -‘ .. A \ \| 1 a”..... ){J .U 1336‘ V‘ _..1 .l I .. I .. 1. . Ill-I‘lll‘ilt, A .7 .9?! 11!». {IL} if: . ILA}? C ' I 2%.mialdnuvliurlk . .s 0““- . o ‘. I ‘.1"‘~" '1- I?‘¢‘A.QOV¢|WI"1V1V l‘. ' 5x.-OI I VG- .suxkk : .. . ..u ‘1' a . v! 0 V l ‘ «v A F I ‘4 o 71' 1 . I043}: . . I V . amtgmnn .183}... x. .nhoauow. 1. , . . . : tiucl. 1.33:... rLerwv I u. . a... .. . .... n2... '1. l “ VIE; (I ‘flilw d - Pin-l“. it'd}!!! 1» d1?‘. a 0.1%“ \‘f‘v on: . : A coy-.1”. layout I I) :1. .35.."- . .51.. 5. .3429} WI... .21- :3 .. :23. .5! ilsflrlrJ.£..Iii 3.21.! . Nth.-. . . - x‘lvhn‘lfhmmlihuu.‘ -t.724u...'tmul13 u..(L..Hfl..3yw...oolflunfl..u.}.93h '11.? uh... .. . H .1519”! .1.....LI.U.HE Jflouxhvituqla. . HUV‘OJQLHLLI‘IQH [.10 . . luv, III-ll“! V II Q I. A. ‘i‘ I‘J’tv‘w‘t‘. w o . J hggvl -i: . n y .. y . v n In. I n I .. .“A..A . .31-.- I {curl}: 4. Bring. . \ .. . . v 49“. . 0 0“ E h . I V ‘ u n ' tutxnotv :unv .31 3 . 7.9.; .161. .. :Infrifiubgmuiiwflt “and. n3 II: :01... 11.1.1! . . who. 0‘ . 0 1,1‘ Lu '0‘" ‘2‘ ‘r' ‘. "fl. ,1 ”$34. Ar' ;. u' _’x I {is H '. 1! ‘J. 5 aka?- , . $13.6ij , ‘ .I 'm‘ , q;: 4 .1 ‘71,) '39}; ”1:“ . 4-9342 [ix—“h-“ ' f Linn-n? ’ ; Michigan game ‘ University n ‘ \— - ,l v w w This is to certify that the thesis entitled THE ICON IN GREEK ART, RELIGION, AND PHILOSOPHY: 700 BoCo--A0Do 1200 presented by Bethany Brooke Johnson has been accepted towards fulfillment of the requirements for ' Mvo degree in Department Of Art l \gai. 091’40/«09 /\ Major professor Date May 2, 1983 0-7639 MS U is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution MSU LIBRARIES _—,_. RETURNING MATERIALS: Place in book drop to remove this checkout from your record. FINES will be charged if book is returned after the date stamped below. THE ICON IN GREEK ART, RELIGION, AND PHILOSOPHY: 700 B.C.--A.D. 1200 By Bethany Brooke Johnson A THESIS Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF ARTS Department of Art 1983 2‘ £537 f\ 5.) ABSTRACT THE ICON IN GREEK ART, RELIGION, AND PHILOSOPHY: 700 B.Co--A0Do 1200 BY Bethany Brooke Johnson This thesis is primarily a discussion of the relationship between the Greek worshipper and the sacred image,curicon, as it developed in pagan antiquity and continued into the Byzantine Era. I have chosen to investigate this ancient tradition of icon venera- tion by tracing the development of the controversy which the relation- ship between icon and worshipper evoked: iiconoclasm. While the word "iconoclasm" is generally associated with a specifically Byzantine controversy which occurred between A.D. 7301x1843, the roots of the Byzantine controversy were established in the Hellenic world as early as the seventh century B.C. in the philosophy of the Milesian Material- ists. In point of fact. there are many words which have traditionally been associated with Byzantine theology, such as "icon," "iconoclast,"- and "iconodule,' which have an equally valid, though virtually unex- plored, connection with ancient Greek religion, philosophy and art. The meaning of the words icon and idol-- Gilli-3V and Cm“f’"--carried profound religious,philosophical, and artistic implications for Byzantine and Pagan Greeks alike. I have tried to illustrate the Bethany Brooke Johnson continuity between pagan and Christian Greek heritage by focusing on the place of the icon in the writings of philosophers and church fathers, and on the style of the icon during the strongest periods of Greek art, the classical periods of the fifth century B.C. and the middle Byzantine period of the late ninth through eleventh centuries A.D. Chapter]; "Icon and Idol in Byzantine: 730-843 A.D.," is a brief explanation of the Byzantine Iconoclastic controversy, focusing on the dispute over the actual definition of an icon. Chapter II, "The Etymologies of (tho-I’Vand (Pt/JUAOV," explores the origins of the words "Icon" and "Idol" and their place in Greek philOSOphy. Chapter III, "Greek Anthropomorphism in Religion and Philosophy," investigates the origin of Anthropomorphism in Greek culture, and its function as the foundation of icon veneration. Chapter IV, "The Origins of Greek " traces the development of radical icono— Iconoclasm and Iconodulism, clasm among the Ionic philosophers, and the subsequent development of a standard line of icon defense. Chapter IV, "The Aesthetics of Greek Icons," is a stylistic comparison of Greek icons of the fifth century B.X. and the ninth to eleventh centuries A.D. which focuses on and emphasizes their aesthetic and theological bonds. To my Mother and Father ii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank Dr. Eldon Van Liere and Dr. Paul Deussen for their encouragement and support during my years at Michigan State University and Dr. Molly Smith for her inspiration during the writing of this thesis. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS LIST OF FIGURES o o o o o o o o o o o o 0 Chapter I. ICON AND IDOL IN BYZANTINE: 730-843 . . . . FOOtnOtes-'Chapter I o o o o o o o o 0 II. THE ETYMOLOGIES OF Elfin/V AND HAD/10W . . . Footnotes--Chapter II . . . . . . . . . III. GREEK ANTHROPOMORPHISM IN RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY Footnotes--Chapter III . . . . . . . . IV. THE ORIGINS OF GREEK ICONOCLASM AND ICONODULISM . Footnotes--Chapter IV . . . . . . . . . V. THE AESTHETICS OF GREEK ICONS . . . . . . . Footnotes--Chapter V . . . . . . . . . CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Footnotes--Conclusion . . . . . . . . . BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iv Page 11 18 21 35 38 57 61 105 109 112 113 LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. 2. 10. 11. 12. 13. Kore I, Cyrene. c. 550 B.C. (Photo: Ridgway, Fig. 23) Statue from Samoa, dedicated by Cheramyes. c. 575-550 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 67) . . . . . . . Perachora Model of Apsidal Temple. 8th Cent. (Drawing: Scully, Fig. 72) . . . . . . . . . . . . Geometric Krater. Eighth Century B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 410) . . . . . . . . . . . Maiden from Attica. c. 580-570 B.C. (Photo: Richter, F180 66) o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o Aegina: West Pediment, Athena. c. 490 B.C. (Photo: Ridgway, Severe Style, Fig. 1) . . . . . . . The Varvakeion Athena. Copy of original by Phidias, c. 430 B.C. (Wood Engraving: Waldstein, Plate XIV) Doryphoros, by Polyclitus. c. 450-440 B.C. (Photo: RiChter ’ Fig. 155) O O O O O O O O O O C The Zeus of Phidias (Reconstructed by Adler). c. 430 B.C. (Drawing: Dress, Fig. 38) . . . . . . . Laocoon, by Hagesandros. Polydoros and Athanodorus. c. 175-150 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 236) . . . Gaul killing himself and his wife. c. 240-200 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 231) . . . . . . . Mediterranean WOrld, A.D. 2.21. The Penguin Atlas of Medieval History. Colin McEvedy. (Hammondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1961) . . . . . . . Expansion of Greek Civilization, 750-500 B.C. (Map: Starr,The History of the Ancient World, Map 8) . . Page 24 25 28 66 67 68 69 71 73 77 78 80 81 Figure Page 14. Demiurgos, Daphni: c. 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus, Plate 1) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 15. Olympia, East pediment, Attendant. c. 460 B.C. (Photo: Carpenter, Greek Sculpture, Plate XVII) . . 88 16. Zeus from a Pompeiian Wall Painting. (Drawing: 000k. Plate 1) O O I O O O O O I O I O 0 9o 17. Olympia, Temple of Zeus: Conjectural Restorations (M. Kuhnert in Curtius-Adler, Olympia). c. 460 B.C. (Drawing: Ashmole, Fig. 71) . . . . . . . . . 93 18. Olympia, Temple of Zeus: Metope of the Cretan Bull. c. 460 B.C. (Photo: Ashmole, Fig. 88) . . . . . 94 19. Olympia: West Pediment of the Temple of Zeus. c. 460 B.C. (Photo: Ashmole, Fig. 20) . . . . . 96 20. Olympia, Conjectural Reconstruction of West Pediment, Temple of Zeus. (Model: Ashmole, Fig. 28) . . . . 97 21. Daphni, Baptism of Christ. c. 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus, Plate XI) . . . '. . . . . . . 99 22. Daphni, Transfiguration. cu 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus ’ Fig 0 9 1) O O I O O O O O O O O O 100 23. Daphni. Betrayal of Judas. c. 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus, Fig. 96) . . . . . . . . . . 101 vi CHAPTER I ICON AND IDOL IN BYZANTINE: 730-843 Iconoclasm became the official policy of the Byzantine Empire in 7301 under Emperor Leo III and was enforced until 780, when the Empress Irene had it repealed. It was revived again in 814, then abolished forever when Michael III assumed the throne in 842. The veneratiOn of Icons, a tradition which had been rapidly gaining in strength since the fifth century,2 was deeply imbedded in the worship of the eastern Christians by the time of the controversy. Its foun- dation was an implicit belief in the value and function of the images, and was not based on a dogma which could be taught and confessed.3 Consequently, it gave expression to a form of worship so natural to the Christians of the Creek East that explanation of it seemed redun- dant, even ridiculous, to their theologians.4 It was not until the very life of this tradition was threatened that its components were codified into a defense, which later became doctrine. The principle formulators of this defense were John of Damascus and Theodore of Studios, whose passionate apologies on behalf of icons in the eighth and ninth centuries were largely responsible for the ultimate victory of Orthodoxy in 842. The Iconoclastic Controversy was composed of issues which touched on every heated topic in the history of the early church; quite naturally, its resolution had far-reaching sig- nificance.5 Superficially, the controversy raged over whether a votive image, made by human hands and of perishable material, was an icon or an idol, and whether or not veneration of such an image consti- tuted idolatry. For the ardent iconoclast, there was little, if any, difference between icon and an idol. All of the arguments which the Orthodox had formulated to differentiate between pagan and Christian image worship were dismissed as sophistry.6 The iconodules, in turn, attributed anti-orthodox sentiments to the influence of Jewish theo- 1ogians, and to the Muslims of the Arab court in Syria--a consensus with which many modern historians agree.7 It is also possible that the siege of Constantinople, launched in 717 by fiery, iconoclastic Arabs, fueled the guilt and regret of theEmperor and his advisors concerning the ever-tightening grip of "idolatry."8 Whatever the cause, the iconoclasts were zealous in their crusade against icons. They relied heavily on the prohibitions against graven images which reverberate through the Old Testament, especially the ban which appears in Exodus 20:4, "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image . . ." This proved to be a particularly potent weapon, for this passage was considered the Second Commandment in the Eastern Church, while in the Western Church it was regarded as an addenda to the First Commandment.9 Further evidence was supplied by Psalms 97:7, "Confounded be All they that serve graven images . . . and Isaiah 42:8, "I am the lord . . . and my glory will I not give to graven images,‘ which secured the pedigree of iconoclasm in Christianity.10 Unfortunately, the iconocules could not produce tests with similar, indisputable authority. The Iconoclasts, then, turned to the New Testament, to John 14: 9, in order to prove that no image of Christ could possibly do justice to its prototype: ". . . he that hath seen me hath seen the Father." This passage was proof that any attempt to create a likeness of Christ was not only superfluous, it was blasphemous. They feared, above all, that the spirituality of Christianity was being eroded by the insidious presence of pagan materialism.11 The only authentic image, according ' and to the iconoclast, was an image which was "identical in essence,’ only the Eucharist fulfilled this qualification.12 The Eucharist carried the essence of Christ--it was a sacrament which required spiritual communication, spoken words, and nonfigurative metaphors for Christ. This disdain of matter constitutes the deeper motivation for the entire controversy: The distinction between spirit and matter seems to have meant even more to the Iconoclasts than to the Orthodox, who accused the Iconoclasts of "defaming matter and call- ing it dishonorable."13 This statement of John of Damascus underlines the most profound impli- cations of the dispute. For the iconodule, the "defamation of Matter" was the real blasphemy. When God chose to reveal Himself to humanity in human form, it became acceptable to recreate His human likeness. The mystery'qfthe God-man is the core of the Orthodox faith; Christ is the divine culmination of the magnetic polarity of matter and spirit. The incarnation of Christ was His mandate enabling men to create His likeness. Moreover, the iconodule believed it was disrespect of the highest order not to do so, for it meant the separation of the insepa- rable duality which is Christ's nature, and therefore, constituted an act of heretical arrogance: "Man has no character more fundamental than this, that he can be represented in an image; that which cannot 14 be represented this way is not a human being, but an abortion." The legitimacy of icon veneration as a Christian tradition was based on the belief that "the honor that is paid to the image passes to the prototype."15 The foundation of this concept was summarized by Theodore of Studios in the following statement: Every artificial image is a likeness of that whereof it is the image, and it exhibits in itself, by way of imitation, the form of its model, . . . Hence, he who reverses the person whom the image shows; not the substance of the image, but him who is delineated in it. Nor does the singleness of his veneration separate the model from.the image, since, by virtue of imitation, the image and the model are one. . . . The juxtaposition of this statement by Theordore of Studios against the following one by the iconoclast Emperor, Constantin V, may serve to illuminate the severity of the schism: ". . . if some- one makes an image of Christ, . .‘. he has not really penetrated the depths of the dogma of the inseperable union of the two natures of "17 Christ. The antagonists' opposite interpretation of the same " clearly words, the "inseperable union of the two natures of Christ, illustrates the irreconcilable nature of the dispute. Any compromise on their respective opinions concerning the duality of Christ was impossible without simultaneously compromising the thrust of their kosmological beliefs. The "correct" interpretation of Christ's duality is entirely dependent on the interpretor's view of the struc- ture of the universe. The iconoclast held the physical world in contempt; he believed the spiritual universe to be completely separate from and superior to our own physical experience. Hence, the incredul- ity of Constantin V that anyone who understood the duality of Christ could persist in the creation of His likenesses. Conversely, the iconodule views the incarnation of Christ as the divine affirmation of faith in the physical universe, and the recreation of God's human aspect as celebrations of this affirmation. The sacred mystery of Christ lies in the perfect fusion of humanity and divinity--matter and Spirit-~which is a paradigm for the structure of the universe. Neither aspect of Christ's nature is less perfect than the other, for both are emanations of God. This explains the fury of John of Damascus at those who would degrade matter.18 Since there was no hope of compromise on the issue of Christ's duality, the iconodules developed a line of counter-attack. Like their opponents, they appealed on behalf of the antiquity of the tradition. They explained that the tradition was as old as the Church itself, and proof of this lay in the pervasiveness of the images themselves.19 Mbreover, images had never been threatened or condemned during the proceedings of the six Church Councils which had been held over the last 400 years.20 The same could not be said for the more abstract 21 The iconodules also appealed symbols preferred by the iconoclasts. to the humanitarian side of their antagonists, arguing that icons were instrumental in the religious education of the illiterate. The unschooled, they explained, were unmoved by high-blown, abstract symbolism, and could communicate and empathize more easily with an intelligible, human form.22 However, the iconoclasts took issue with what was seen as a virtue by the iconodules, and countered that icons were unsuitable as instructional devices because the uneducated were easily seduced by "lifeless matter."23 The Orthodox attacked the iconoclasts for what they consid- ered to be an inconsistent stand regarding images. The Orthodox conceded that their opponents taught the real presence of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist, but pointed out that his crossing of the border between matter and spirit was not consistent with their theological position, for what was the Eucharist, if not the physical presentation of a nonphysical, intangible divine Essence?24 To the Orthodox iconodule, imagery is the human Condition--all things which are contemplated and communicated by human beings call on language, which is composed of images. This belief prompted the acidic retort of John V of Jerusalem: . . . why do you worship the book and spit ?"25 and Nicephoros' command to . . . accept these upon the picture (icons), or get rid of those (Gospels)."26 The above argument of the Orthodox encompasses a philosophical view of the kosmos which is rooted in classical antiquity, and more 27 However, the oldest arguments in eloquently outlined by Plato. favor of icon veneration have nothing to do with formalized doctrine, and everything to do with common sense; a kind of collective, popular philosophy. Fundamentally, the Orthodox iconodule, understanding human dependence on imagery, views the icon as a necessary concession to this dependence. Man is able to show God in human form because humanity was created in the image of God, therefore, he must be the physical representation of the Archetype.28 The icon itself is neces- sary because of the poverty of human imagination, which is unable to apprehend the abstract appearance of divinity due to the limitations of our physical experience: "Perhaps you are sublime and able to transcend what is material . . . but 1, since I am a human being and bear a body, want to deal with holy things and behold them in a bodily manner."29 Both Leontius of Neapolis and John of Damascus used the following analogy to illustrate the point: "I have often seen those with a sense of longing, who, having caught sight of the garment of their beloved, embrace the garment as though it were the beloved person himself."30 The artless spontaneity of such arguments is reflected in their appeal to common sense. The naturalness of icon veneration for the Orthodox is even more eloquently illustrated by the frustrated retort of Theodore of Studios: "What person with any sense does not comprehend the distinction beween an idol and an icon?".31 This pro- test by the great advocate of Orthodoxy may go the furthest toward elucidating the actual nature of the belief in icons. Strictly speak- ing, there is no room for icon veneration in Judaic tradition of Christianity, nor is there any evidence in the Gospels which supports it. The tenacity with which the Orthodox iconodules clung to this tradition is due to something deeper than borrowed heritage. It is due to a philosophical common sense which is neither Hebrew nor Latin, but Creek. The icon was rooted in a tradition which had thrived in the Hellenic world for centuries; an idea of divinity which had long been polarized from oriental concepts of abstract, unapproachable dieties. Though they did not realize it, the iconodules were mouthing words which had been in the hearts and on the lips of Hellenic dualists for more than a thousand years. Iconoclasts had confused "icon" as "idol." These words were separated by shades of meaning which seemed like sophistry to the iconoclasts, who had been infiltrated by the extremism of the Muslim Court, and were haunted by the fear of God's wrath. But to orthodox theologians, the difference did not amount to another shade, but to an entirely different color. The different "colors" of these words, the variant connotations of 6: Kan/IV and 6:90AM! must be‘exa'mined béfore the depth of their influence in Greek theology, philosophy, and art can be understood. FOOTNOTES--CHAPTER I 1The actual date of the first edict of iconoclasm is not known; another possible date is 726: Cyril mango, The Art of the (Byzantine Empire 312-1453. Sources and Documents Series (Englewood Ciffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1972), p. 149. 2Gervase Mathew, Byzantine Aesthetics (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1971), p. 99. 3Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine, 5 Vols.: The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600-1700), Vol. 2 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1974), p. 103. 4See text below, p. 7. 5Pelikan, p. 91. 61bid., p. 114. 7Ibid., p. 91. 8The actual extent of Islamic and Judaic influence on the Iconoclastic Controversy is still subject to debate. Gervase Mathew views the conflict as political power-play which had nothing to do with Semitic theological influence; Byz. Aesth., pp. 100-04. Pelikan is similarly reluctant to equate iconoclasm with Semitic influence, pointing out the weapons in iconoclastic arsenal which have a decided platonic, and therefore hellenic, cast; e.g., John 4:24, 18:36; Pelikan, pp. 107-08. 9Pelikan, pp. 107-07. This explains the incredulity of the iconodules when faced with charges of idolatry. See text below, p. 7. 10Theodore of Studios, Antirrhetica (Refutations of the Iconoclasts) 3.54. Quoted in Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. 11Ibid. 12Nicephoros of Constantinople, Antirrheticus (Refutation) 3.54. Quoted in Pelikan, The Christian Tradition. 10 13Pelikan, p. 112; Niceph., Antirr. 1.15. 14Thdr. Stud., Refutations of the Poems of the Iconoclasts 3, ed.: Pelikan, p. 128. 15John of Damascus, The Orthodox Faith 4.16, ed.: Mango, p. 169. l6Thdr. Stud., Epistle to Plato on the Cult of the Holy Images, ed.: Mango, p. 173. 17Pelikan, p. 116: Niceph., Antirr. 2.1. 18See text above, p. 3. 19Pelikan, p. 98: Thdr. Stud., Ref. 18. 20Ibid.: John V of Jerusalem, Against Constantinus Cabalinus on the Images 5. 21The Trullan Council of 691-2 demanded in its 82nd rule that the likeness of Christ be used rather than nonfigurative, symbolic representations such as the Sacrificial Lamb: Mathews, Byzantine Aesthetics, p. 99. 22John D., The Orthodox Faith 4.16, ed.: Mango, p. 170. 23Niceph., Greater Apology for the Holy Images 65, ed.: Pelikan, p. 95. 24 Niceph., Greater Apology 27, ed.: Pelikan, p. 94. 25John V of Jerusalem, Against Const. 8, ed.: Pelikan, p. 131. 26Ibid., Niceph., Greater Apology 61. 27See below text, p. 13. 28Thdr. Stud., Epistles 1.13, ed.: Pelikan, p. 95. 29Ibid., p. 122. John D., Orations on the Images I. John of Damascus is echoing the revered Pseudo-Dionysus the Aereopagite; The Celestial Hierarchies 1.2; The Divine Names 1.1, 588. 30Ibid., p. 120: Leontius of Neapolis (Cyprus), Sermons 3; John D., Orations on the Images 3.10. 31Thdr. Stud., Antirr. 1.7, ed.: Pelikan, p. 123. A similar tone is found in John D., The Orthodox Faith 4.15; Orations on the Image 1.4. CHAPTER II THE ETYMOLOGIES OF EIK-QNAND EIAfl/ION "€3ka " and " garb; ," from which "icon" was derived, have "ink" as a root word, meaning "to join"; "to assimilate"; "to belong to itself."1 An dial”, therefore, meant an imitation or a replica. Consequently, 6110-51! was popularly used as a term for the imitations of painting, sculpture, oratory, and literature.2 At times, it implied a deceitful, or counterfeit image--in Euripides Troades and Children of Herakles,3.£:h&$V’can mean a portrait; an image based on true likeness, or it can mean a deceitful shadow; a delusion. This flexibility was not suitable for the description of cult images, and so another, more specific word-- --came to designate a votive image. “ya/L,“ , which literally means "glory, delight, honor,"4 was used by Herodotus in the fifth century, B.C., to indicate a statue dedicated in honor of a god.5 It was also used as a generic term for painting and sculpture, particularly portraits. However, it is important to note that jgfldna.always has the connotation of a glory or honor done on behalf of a patron, whether human or divine, thereby carrys the motive behind the image in its definition. The adjective "iconicus," meaning portraitlike, did not appear until the Roman Empire.6 However, the popularization of the positive 3 I significance of 6‘!th --that is to say, its function as the complement 11 12 to and reflection of its 04P;J£ng&s or model--is amply reflected by Herodotus and other authors of the fifth century, B.C.7 But it was among the Greek philosophers that 0’de fulfilled the depth of meaning implied by its root word. Plato raised (1,de to the level of a philosophical concept--it became a word whose deepest spiritual and most common, popular meanings were mirrors of one another. For Plato, the 4';ka is ultimately the entire physical uni- verse--the universe of appearances which is the likeness of its rnmeéc dky’fimg’ the eternal universe of Pure Form.8 In the Timaeus, this material (I'le’ is the creation of the ". . . sensible God who is the image of the intellectual, the greatest, best, fairest, most per- fect. . . ."9 The sensible God is designated as the dru’ijd, the craftsman of the sensible universelO--a title which had profound influence on the terminology of the Neoplatonists, through whom it may have found its way into the theology of the Greek Fathers.11 The function of the demiurgos, whether human or divine, is to create a physical environment which is modelled on the intellectual. Conse- quently, the human craftsman is the model of virtue for Plato. The success of the craftsman lies in his knowledge of the prototype which he must reproduce, not in the wanton flights or imagination which are the pride of poets and sophists.12 Because the likeness made by the craftsman is an illustration of Truth, he has the moral obligation to be Truthful, therefore, his adherence to knowledge is crucial. When 13 I Plato casts the Athenian in Laws as the ercvpfj {ho/yap , the craftsman of likenesses, he is correlating verbal similies with physical 13 ones, and demanding the same conscientiousness on the part of the creator. Here Plato is using git‘w’ to mean verbal "picturing," one of its most universal applications. [I’kév was commonly used to describe verbal or literary similies, which are literally mental "likenesses," When compounded with (161,05 by rhetoricians, it became the label for a highly sOphisticated method of imagery in poetry and oratory. 5123;044:915 .14 For Plato, likenesses are the foundation of human knowledge-- the human condition requires them on every level in order to under- stand and experience: For everything that exists there are three classes of objects through which knowledge about it must come; the knowledge itself is a fourth, and we must put as a fifth entity the actual object of knowledge which is true reality. We have then first, a name, second, a description, third, an image, and fourth, a knowledge of the object. Take a particular case if you want to understand the meaning of what I have just said; then apply the theory to every object in the same way. There is something for instance called a circle, the name of which is the very word I just now uttered. In the second place there is a description of it which is composed of nouns and verbal expressions. . . . In the third place there is a class of objects which is drawn and erased and turned on the lathe and destroyed--processes which do not effect the real circle to which these other circles are related, because it is different from them. In the fourth place there are knowledge and understanding and correct Opinion concerning them . . . found not in sounds nor in shapes of bodies, but in minds. . . . Of all these four, understanding approaches nearest in affinity and likeness to the fifth entity, while the others are more remote from it.15 The success of any one of Plato's dialogues depends on the clarity of the allegories he creates for his concepts; otherwise, a body of knowledge concerning the concept cannot be gained, nor can the con- I cept itself be apprehended.l6 Without the 65'ka , the paradigm is 14 unintelligible; consequently, the integrity of the sin!!! must be pre- served. This is precisely why knowledge of the prototype is of funda— mental importance to Plato--the craftsman must keep the pure form of the paradigm before him in order to truly represent it. Conversely, if he does not know the El’kh’JV , his creation is a sham. The crafts- man of these ignorant illusions are thrice removed from the truth, and are, therefore, a detriment to society; ". . . a corruption of the mind of all . . . who do not possess as an antedote a knowledge of . . . real nature."17 The creation of an €1K¢JV , whether a bed, a chair, a poem, or a painting, carries with it the moral responsibility to create a true £13351. Because communication of the truth is the function of the likeness, it becomes necessary for Plato to distinguish between a true and a false likeness. To this end, imitation is divided into two levels in the Sophist--the making of likenesses {{kna-nk; , and the making of semblances flavnd’rl’v’ . The makers of {I’ku’V‘ create ". . . that conform to the proportions of the original . . . , capies ". . . truth to take care of while the makers of semblances leave itself . . .", and ". . . do in fact put into the images they make, not the real proportions, but those that will appear beautiful. . . .'J8 The sophist, who embodies all the evils of immoral craftsmanship, is referred to as the (Alain-791:5» the "idol-maker."19 [Jagua’ov is the corruption of f’ll‘sih-the sham that corrupts and devalues the real.20 9 Plato's choice of £19914“! as a word to indicate a debased candy is I 1’ '? well-grounded. Both (was and (IMVderive from the root word (Kiev , 15 3 I which refers to the act of seeing, but while {HUS comes to mean a high level of contemplative "seeing," hence Plato's use of the word )I to mean pure form,6ldwr’cv indicates merely the physical act of seeing, 21 )I A or the object seen. Consequently, the very definition of (Ida) 0V makes it the perfect word to describe an imitation based on physical illusion, rather than pure form. V’ E IdU/JOV had been evolving toward this negative connotation for centuries. In the eighth century, B.C., Homer had used it to indicate a mirage--the phantom in a dream, or the apparition of some lost soul in Hades.22 Eildukv was used by Plato to describe the fundamental tool of memory, i.e., the recording or exterior apprear- ances on the intellect; and also to describe the molds used by a 23 In Book X of the Republic, (1'9qu means phantasm, used craftsman. here by Plato to indicate the sham of poetic creation.24 The poet, who imitates without knowledge of the prototype, represents the height of immorality and irresponsibility for Plato, and is, there- fore, a close relative of the sophist; for both are "idol-makers." In the Republic and the Sephist, a relationship is established between 8.51qu and flg’vflom which underlines its negative connotations. Synonymous with deceptive appearances and the wanton fabrications of imagination, (Xian/av stand far below the (ft-4.4V, whose form is determined by the purity of its flopjda’ms, and which the £1.de must, by definition, reflect truthfully. Unfortunately, the requisite dedication to absolute truth and precision was often lacking in craftsmen. Consequently, Plato was 16 reluctant to trust painters and sculptors as "likeness-makers." By allying them with poets, Plato emphasized the artist's tendency, particularly the artists of his time, to lapse into egotism, into inspired personal interpretations which sacrificed truth in order to embellish physical appearance and their own reputations.25 Naturally, this irresponsibility in the figurative arts was most harmful when it concerned the likenesses of the gods.26 Because knowledge of the paradigm was vital to ensure the truthful representation of its 61’ kg” and knowledge could only be obtained through careful study of the wisdom and technical skills which had been accumulated concerning the paradigm, poets ought also to have been philosophers and priests, which they quite clearly were not. All poets, even Homer, were con- sidered sophists, who went about painting false images of the gods.27 Unlike the poets, artists worked from a body of technical skill and were surrounded by physical models which served as testa- ments to their ability. Consequently, the artists was not as free to interpret his subjects' irresponsibility. Painting and sculpture were considered by Plato to be crafts, and their practitioners belonged to a class of men for whom Plato had the utmost respect--the artisans or craftsmen.28 Plato's insistence on the immutability of the para- digm lead him to admire the more "conservative" artistic traditions, 29 such as the Classical period of his native Greece and the art of Egypt,30 for their fidelity to ancient patterns and respect for sacred form. And yet, however sacred or ancient, these forms may have been, they were nonetheless products of human hands. How is it possible that Plato would have become more outraged by fleeting, poetic 17 misrepresentation of the gods than by hand, material likenesses of ultimately unknowable divinity? Why was Homer labeled a sophist31 ?"32 The while Phidias was praised as an "outstandingly fine craftsman answer lies in the unique Hellenic tradition of the anthropomorphic pantheon. The popular belief in an anthropomorphic pantheon which was already fully developed at the dawn of Greek history was the foundation of their anthropomorphic iconography. The gods were not completely unknowable, for humanity was the reflection of the gods. The human form was the natural symbolic vessel of divinity for only a human being possessed the faculty which governed the universe--reason. The validity of the human figure as a symbol of divinity was self-evident to the majority of Greeks. In addition, the artist must rely on the human form for his model, a model which he must know thoroughly and recreate with an established body of knowledge. This limitation created exactly the sort of conservatism required for the respectful presentation of sacred formal vocabulary, and enabled the artist to create an (11:15! more truthful than that of any poet. However, in order to more fully appreciate the magnitude of the sacred image, or icon, in Greek art, the antiquity of anthropomorphism and its place in art and philOSOphy must now be examined. FOOTNOTES-—CHAPTER II 1Henry G. Liddell and Rober} Scott, Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966), obful: p. 485, £07k!” p. 601-- "to be like"; rarely used in other tens 3 other than present. Its third person singular impersonal form, hi equals "it was Opportune," e.g., Illiad, 18.520. Frequently used in the impersonal form to mean something which "seems fit" or "right," e.g., Odysse , 3.124 and 5; Plato, Repub. 334a. 2 Elisa/9’ used to mean a sculpture or painting per se, with no reference to subject matter. However, it is important that these arts were imitations of the prototypes in the natural world not only by design, but by definition. 3Hans Willms, : eine begriffsgeschichte untersuchung zum Platonismus (Mfinster: Verlag der Aschendorffschen, Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1935), p. l; Euripides, Troades 1178; Children of Herakles 1002. 4Liddell and Scott, Lexicon, p. 5. 5Herodotus, 1.131. 6Willms, p. 1; Pliny, Nat. Hist. 34.16; Suetonius, Calig. 22.; Plutarch, Lysias 1. is synonymous with "portrait" in Lucian; Essays in 1323. and Essays in For. Defended, cf. 7Willms, p. 2; Herodotus, II.143., v. 62. 8Tim. 29b, 92c. 9Plato, Timaeus, 92c. 1°Ib1d., 22c. 11Gervase Mathew, Byzantine Aesthetics. Icon Editions. (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1971), p. 20. The extent to which Neo-platonism influenced Byzantine theology is a subject of contro- versy. Mathew names Proclus as the vehicle through which Plotinus and Porphyry were transfused into Greek Christianity. He also refers the reader to a study by E. R. Dodds, entitled Proclus: The Elements of Theology (Oxford, 1933), for further information regarding this topic. 12Plato Republic, cf. Book 10. 18 19 13Plato Laws, 989b. l4Willms, p. 4; Plato Phaedrus, 267c, 269a. 15Plato Letters, 7.342a, b. 16Plato Critias, 107b. 17Repub. 596b, 598b, 595a. 18Plato Sophist, cf. 236. lgIbid., 235a, 239d. 201bid., 234b, cf. 24o. 21Ernst Cassirer, "Eildos und EMV : Das Problem des Sch'o'nen und der Kunst in Platons Dialogen," Vortrage der Bibliothek Warburg 1922/23 I (1924), p. . The etymologies of (141.55.33.31; . and (fay/by appear on p. 483 of Liddell and Scott, Lexicon. 22Willms, p. 2. Illiad 5. 449 ff; Odyssey 4.796, 824,835; I__.. 23.72,104; O_d. 11.83, 213,476,602; 20.355; 24.14. EIQ‘JA‘V appears as a synonym for C’km in O_d. 10. 495; 11.207. Pindar uses e7,— «dah+w' similarly when referring to the "shade" of a dead man in Fragment 131b. 23Ibid., p. 12: Plato Theatitus, 191d. Willms points out in n. 33 thatTarn‘ , meaning "type," is used here as a synonym for fldwr’u’. It is interesting to note that Callistratus, in his late third century A.D. defense of icons, used 7DW0: to describe cult images when feigning the iconoclast's position, i.e., when referring to images as empty forms: "To me, at any rate, the object before my eyes seems to be, not '0 an image (72Hn5), but a modelled presentment of Truth. . . . Ekphrasis 10.2. 24w111ms, p. 21: Repub. 598b, 599a, 600e, 601b, 605C. 253021.. 235 cf. 26 Repub. 568 cf. 27Protag. 316d; Repub. 2.377 cf. 23252333. 312d; Repub. 1.34, 2.92d. 29 Meno, 91d; Hippias Major, 290 cf. 30Laws, 656c. 31Protag. 316d. 32Meno, 91d. 20 CHAPTER III GREEK ANTHROPOMORPHISM IN RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY To anthropomorphize the gods is to conceive of them in human form; to translate their activity and appearance into human vocabulary. Though it is impossible to determine when the evolution toward anthro- pomorphism began in the Greek pantheon, it is certain that by the eighth century B.C., it was firmly established. Homeric literature, which dates from the Geometric period of the eighth century, provides the most eloquent evidence of this, with its vivid presentation of the gods as full-bodied personalities, possessing all of the majesty and triviality of their human counterparts. Homer's portrayal of the gods as individuals who are capable of base as well as noble emotions emphasizes the kinship between the immortal and the morta1--their similar character and opposite substance, their reflection of one another and need for one another are all allegories for the nature of the universe, as Walter Otto described in his book, The Homeric Gods: The gods and their dominions, . . . testify to the thoroughly vital and Open spirit with which the Greeks were able to reorganize the divine and the manifold shapes of existence, serious or gay, powerful or amiable, manifest or enigmatic. Never is it the flight of Man's dream's or aspirations, always and everywhere it is the power of reality, the breath and bouquet and glitter of the life which billowed about himI that steeped him in the purple brilliance of the divine. The universe is formed from the union of two principles--the immutable spiritual or intellectual principle which has dominion over the mutable 21 22 material principle. Hence, according to the structure of the kosmos, the gods must rule humanity. The Greeks chose the human form to be the symbolic vessel of divinity because of all creatures, Man reflected the Kosmic order most completely-—material substance governed by a soul. To symbolize divinity through the hybrid dieties characteristic of Egypt and the Orient would be inaccurate, for it is Man's reason, or soul, which separates him from the animals and binds him to the gods. To conceive of the gods as bodiless, indefinable forces ren- dered them unintelligible, for humanity must rely on comprehensible vocabulary in order to preserve the clarity of religion. Consequently, anthropomorphism must not be interpreted as arrogant or naive, but as practical: If he encountered his dieties in the likeness of man, if he discovered his own nobility and grandeur in their image, we cannot look for any attempt on his part to transcend nature or free himself from it . . . it was the character of the Greek genius to see the realities of human existence in the eternal forms of growth and maturation, of laughter and tears, of play and earnest. His attention was directed not to forces but to pure being, and the forms of human being presented themselves with such truth that he could only revere them as gods.2 The veneration of the gods through human likenesses evolved quite naturally out of this anthropomorphic tradition. The anthropo- morphic cult image was the vortex around which the perfect geometry of the temple revolved, which was itself enveloped by the sacred, god- touched 1andscape--it was the intelligible culmination of a complex, otherwise calculated to emphasize the perfection and incomprehensi- bility of the diety.3 The cult image served as the symbol through which the worshipper could communicate with the diety and clarify his 23 own relationship to the infinite, and therefore, functioned as an icon for the pagan Greeks. The Foundation of the Greek tradition of icon veneration had been laid in the Dark Ages, for by the Homer's Age of the Geometric period (c. 900-750 B.C.), it had solidified sufficiently for Homer describe the Athena Polias of Troy as a cult image of a human likeness with firmly established cult rituals.4 The most significant archaeological evidence attesting to the antiquity of the anthropomorphic cult image lies in the earliest extant monumental stone likenesses. Dating from the seventh century, the columnular form of these images (Figures 1 and 2) clearly indicates their derivation from wooden prototypes of the Geometric period.5 Because the religion of the Geometric period was dominated by goddesses,6 wood was a particularly appropriate medium for the sacred image. Practically speaking, the slender tree trunk approximated the appearance of the tightly swathed female form, thereby combining the necessity of presenting a modest woman with the desire for naturalism. However, the columnular shape of the Korai which had been technically useful for the wooden prototypes outlived its practical application; the style continued on in stone until after 600, despite the greater flexibility of this medium.7 Consequently, the association of the feminine diety with wood may have had a significance deeper than practicality. In prehistoric Minoan and Mycenaen cultures, trees were often revered as cult images, or to be more precise, as the shrines of dieties.8 This "tree cult" seems to have been identified with fertility goddesses,9 and significantly, many of the xoanon 24 Figure 1.--Kore I, Cyrene. c. 550 B.C. (Photo: Ridgway, Fig. 23). 25 Figure 2.-- Statue from Samos, dedicated by Cheramyes. c. 575-550 B.X. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 67). 26 (daedalic wooden cult images) mentioned by Pausanias in his Description of Greece were made as dedications to fertility goddesses.lo In addi- tion, epithets were attached to the names of some male dieties which affiliated them with trees. This affiliation is most frequent with Zeus, whose name was strongly linked with trees where his cult had gradually superceded the feminine fertility cult. Zeus's oldest ora- cular shrines: those of Dodona, Ammon, and Olympia, all had rites intimately connected with tree worship, which combined with the presence of the oracles themselves to reveal matriarchal origins.11 The reluctance to change the traditional presentation of the godess may have been due to a desire to preserve the clarity of the icono- graphy.12 The most important aspect of tree worship, as it pertains to this paper, is its abandonment sometime during the Dark Ages.13 By the eighth century, the tree pg; pg was no longer the object of wor- ship, if, indeed, it ever had been. Rather, the tree had become the vehicle through which the diety manifested itself. The appearance of anthropomorphic cult images at this time, which required the con- scious, artistic transformation of clay and wood and stone into human likeness, voids the possibility that the Greeks may have worshipped either the natural or modelled form for their own sakes.14 The con- solidation of the anthropomorphic tradition during the Geometric period, reflected in literary and figurative art, was paralleled by the development of sacred architecture as well. The human likeness of a god or goddess naturally required a sheltered dwelling place--the 27 archtypal Greek temple, which did not reach maturity until the Archaic period--originated from this desire to supply the cult image with requisite housing. The Greek temple plan ultimately stems from a house type which was still common as late as the eighth century.15 Though Geometric examples of these apsidal and long rectangular houses have been found,16 none have been excavated dating from the late Archaic or Classical periods.17 The abandonment of the apsidal or rectangular plan for domestic purposes probably occurred when it was adopted for religious purposes. Once the long, single room.with its open, gabled porch had become synonymous with divinity, its form was no longer suit- able for human habitation.18 -One of the earliest examples from this initial stage in the development of Greek sacred architecture is the Temple of Hera Akria, Hera of the Cliffs, at Perachora. During the ninth century,19 a small, apsidal temple was placed overlooking a tiny harbor, nestled beneath the headland which faces the Gulf of Corinth. Small terracotta models (Figure 3) found in the votive deposit of the Geometric temple,20 reveal the simplicity of its p1an--one room, a gabled roof, and a shallow pronaos facing east. However, Hera Akria's design, which closely resembles the Geometric house mentioned above, reveals the prehistoric, Middle Bronze Age origin of both plans. The similarity between Hera Akria and the hairpin megara of the Middle Bronze Age marks the temple as a continuation of the semi-sacred homes 21 of the Mycenaen Kings. Bearers of sacred titles and duties, the Kings shared their homes with the gods and served as their intermedi- aries. The hearth of the King's megaron was the place of public offer- ing, thereby serving as the community's alter to the gods.22 As a 28 8th Century Scully, Fig. 72). Figure 3.--Perachora Model of Apsidal Temple. (Drawing: 29 result, the mingling of the human with the divine occurred very early in the development of Hellenic religion. Though the temple form exemplified by Hera Akria ultimately stems from the Mycenaen megaron tradition, it differs in one important aspect. Sometime during the Dark Ages, a modified megaron had become a common house type--the Geometric apsidal or rectangular house --and was no longer reserved for the ancestral homes of King-Heros. Hera Akria's plan is more closely related to this common house, its immediate predecessor, then to the semi-sacred megaron.23 The choice of this common house type as the home for the sacred image of the diety points to a broadening concept of the divine; a belief that the gods are intimately connected with the whole of humanity, rather than with one specific intermediary. The conspicuous absence of a priestly class allowed creative, God-touched individuals to be the prophets and interpreters of divinity. Consequently, the living relationship between heaven and earth was strengthened--it remained the will of the gods to infuse the men of their choosing with wisdom, which simul- taneously stressed the worthiness of humanity as the £:t¢5VOf divinity.24 The Hellenic religious system reached maturity during the Archaic period with the addition of the meditations of philosophers to its complex harmony of abstract and material celebrations of divin- ity. By the sixth century, the belief that man was created in the image of the gods, which is the core of anthropomorphism, had found its way into philosophy. With the teachings of Pythagoras, this belief became part of the tradition of Western Greek Dualism. Motivated 30 by aidesireeto Apprehand the kosmos through religious, emotional explanations which emphasized the ultimate mystery of divine creation, the dualists were dissatisfied with the purely physical explanations of the kosmos espoused by their Eastern counterparts, the Milesian Materialists.25 Dualists understood the'physical universe to be the necessary counterpart of the Abstract, thelfihhfiP'which enabled the human senses and psyche travel from the lower to the higher realm of the paradigm. Consequently, Dualism reinforced the popular belief in an anthropormorphic pantheon while it simultaneously provided the philosophical premise for icon veneration. According to Herodotus, Pythagoras was born in Samos about the middle of the sixth century.26 Forced to flee the Island in order to escape the tyranny of Polycrates, the Philosopher settled in the city of Croton in southern Italy around 532. Pythagoras' subsequent rise to a position of power caused the Crotoniates to rebel, and he withdrew to Metapontum, where he eventually died.27 Aristotle is among the most informative sources concerning the teachings of Pythagoras, exploring Pythagorean Dualism in his Metaphysics, . . . the contraries are the principles of things; and . . . that there ."28 The two "contrary principles" mentioned are two principles. . . here by Aristotle are matter and spirit; the corporeal and the abstract. Constituting the dual principles of the universe, they are inextra- cably fused, yet polarized by their substance--everything that is perishable is moved by its abstract paradigm, which is imperishable. In accordance with this law, the physical human body is animated by the soul, or spirit; and because the soul in incorporeal, it is 31 deathless. The ancient belief in the immortal soul gave rise to the Pythagorean concepts of the transmigration of souls and the unity of the immutable spiritual universe, recounted here by Porphyry: None the less the following became universally known; first, that he [Pythagoras] maintains that the soul is immortal; next, that it changes into other kinds of living thngs; also that events recur in certain cycles, and that nothing is ever absolutely new; and finally, that all living things should be regarded as kin.29 The immutable, deathless soul is the spark of divinity. However, while with reason, the force which orders the universe--man is therefore the image of God; the microcosm of divinity. Clement of Alexandria,30 as well as Jamblicus the neoplatonist attributed this belief to Pythagoras and his followers. Fragments from the writings of Sextus Pythagoreus, such as "If you know him by whom you were made, you will know your- self,"31 reflect the strength of this tradition among the Pythagoreans. In the mid-fifth century, B.C., Parmenides of Elea initiated an extremist current in Dualism. Enveloped in the language of alle- gorical poetry, Parmenides' philosophy is closely bound to oracle and mystery literature.32 Parmenides exhalts the truth of reason and pure abstraction high above the untrustworthy senses. Such contempt for the senses was rare among dualists, however, and with Empedocles of Acragas, the physical world was vindicated. A near contemporary of Parmenides, Empedocles espoused the Pythagorean doctrines of the transmigration of souls and the kinship of all things, and stressed the importance of the senses as guides to the truth of the spiritual world: 32 But come, consider with all thy power how each thing is mani- fest, neither holding sight in greater trust as compared with hearing, nor loud-sounding hearings above the clear evidence of thy tongue, nor withhold thy trust from any of the other limbs, wheresoever there is a path for understanding, but think on each thing in theway by which it is manifest.33 In accordance with his belief in the necessity of the senses, Empedocles praised the religious rituals of the fabled Golden Age, during which > I the gods were honored with ". . . Holy images, [dyflManr] with paint- ings of living creatures, with perfumes of varied fragrance . . . cast- "34 ing to the ground libations of golden honey. . . Empedocles advocated the exploitation of all the senses in religious ritual as a means of vitalizing the worship experience; this harmonized perfectly with his conviction that all creativity was born of divinity, and that the human desire to create was identical with the force which created humanity: It is just as when artists paint votive plaques, master technicians who know their craft well: They squeeze their polychrome paints in their hands and mix them proportionately, a dab more here, a little less there, and from the mixture create credible images of anything you please, peopling a world with women and men, trees and animals birds and fish at home in the water and even the gods who live for eons in glory. Don't let it escape you: mortal beings in their manifest and infinite variety have no different a source. Know this for a fact. You have a god's word for it.35 Empedocles' faith in the ultimate truthfulness of artistic creations when formed in accordance with divine prototypes was reiterated by Plato in the fourth century.36 33 Anaxagoras of Clazomene added the crucial element to western Dualism--divine Mind. For Anaxagoras, Mind was the organizer of kaos; the paradigm of the material universe. This clarification of the character of ultimate Cause had the effect of polarizing it from matter. Mind became increasingly separate, detached, and mechanical for Anaxagoras once motion had been initiated, Mind began to orbit further and further away from creation.37 However, with Socrates' absorbtion of Anaxagoras' teachings, mind and matter were reconciled. For Socrates, mind and matter were the inextricable duality which Empedocles had envisioned. Mind was not distant and impotent; it was a living force, present in all creation. Far from the distant, impo- tent prime mover of Anaxagoras' conception, Mind was for Socrates the living presence of creation. And so it was for Socrates' student, Plato, who became his master's spokesman, and the most eloquent dualist philOSOpher of the ancient world. By uniting Pythagorean spiritual beliefs, such as the transmigration of souls38 and man as God-image,39 with crystalline logic, Plato was able to provide the mystical core of Dualism with a support system of incomparable strength and purity. The Hellenic religious system as it existed prior to the Hellenistic Era was a complex harmony of Material and Abstract cele- brations of divinity. Blending their intellectual, spiritual, and material creations, the Greeks were able to conjure an allegory of the Kosmos which emphasized its physical nature no less than its abstract. The Material Sacred Complex--consisting of landscape, outdoor alter and punctuating icon--perfectly exemplified this harmony. 34 There was no need for the Hellenes of this era to defend or explain their popular religion, their temples, or their icons--the wisdom and common sense which underlined them and was reinforced by Western Greek philosophers, was self-evident. This wisdom and common sense was not self-evident, however, to the philosophers of Eastern Greece, the Milesian Materialists. In their search for a purely naturalistic explanation of the kosmos, the Milesians initiated a radicalism called "iconoclasm” which threatened to undermine the innate wisdom of Greek AnthrOpomorphism. The foundations of iconoclasm, laid perhaps as early as the seventh century B.C., must be explored, and the antiquity of iconoclastic controversies among the Hellenes established. FOOTNOTES-—CHAPTER I I 1 1Walter F. Otto, The Homeric Gods: The Spiritual Significance of Greek Religion (London: Thames and Hudson, 1955), p. 232. 2 Ibid., pp. 232-3. 3Scully, pp. 1-8. 4111.146.300. SBrunilde Eh. Ridgway, The Archaic Style in Greek Sculpture (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1977), p. 37; pp. 17-39 are and informative exploration into the origins of Archaic monumental stone sculpture. 61bid., p. 37. 71bid., p. 22. 8Lewis R. Parnell, The Cults of the Creek State, 4 vols. (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1896), p. 14. 9Robert Graves, The Greek Myths, 2 vols., rev. ed. (Harmonds- worth, England: Penguin Books Ltd., 1960), vol. 1, p. 298. 10Description of Greece 5.12.7 (Aphrodite); 8.23.6 (Artemis); 3.22.12 (Helen). Clement of Alexandria refers to the Hera at Samos as a "Wooden Beam" which was later carved into a human likeness: Exhortation to the Greeks, 4.41. 11Graves, vol. 1, pp. 178-80. 12Ridgway, pp. 39-9: It is important to note that the stone images were not intended as cult images, for the wooden icons com- manded a great deal of respect due to their antiquity and perhaps to their symbolism as well. 13Approximately 1200-800 B.C. 1('Farnell, vol. 1, p. 22. lSVincent Scully, The Earth, the Temple, and the Gods: Greek Sacred Architecture, revised edition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979). P. 43. 35 36 16Journal of Hellenic Studies 75 (1955) Suppl. 21, p. 21; Numerous examples of small Megaron-style'houses‘were found in slopes of Mt. Prephetes Elias, Emporio. Chios. 17 Scully, p. 43. 1811ml. 19Humfry Payne, Perchora, the Sanctury of Hera Akria and Limenia; Excavations of the British School of Archaeology at Athens 1930-33, 2 vols. (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1940), p. 30. 20 Ibid., pp. 34-51. 21Scully, p. 47. 22Fritz Altheim, A History of Roman Religion, trans.: Harold Mattingly (London: Methuen and Company, Ltd., 1938), p. 230. 23 Scully, p. 43. 240tto, pp. 229-261. 25See below, Chapter 4. 26G. S. Kirk and J. E. Raven, The Presocratic Philosophers: A Critical History with a Selection of Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1957), p. 217; Herodotus, 4.95. 27Ibid.: Porphyry, Vita Pyghggoreus, 9; Diogenes Laertes, 8.3; Iamblicus, Vita Pythagpreus, 249. 28 Ibid., p. 240; Aristotle, Metaphysics, A5 986b 2- 987a 13. 291bid., p. 223; Porphyry, V.P., 19. 3OClement of Alexandria, Stromata, 5.5; Further on in the same passage, Clement of Alexandria praises Pythagoras for his iconoclasm, citing the philosopher's admonition against the wearing of a ring on which the image of a god had been engraved. However, in Iamblicus' V.P., this fragment can be read in context, which drastically changes its meaning: Wear not the image of God in a ring, in order that it may not be defiled. For it is a resemblance which ought to be placed in the house. (V.P. 28). Later in the biography, Iamblicus remarks again on Pythagorus; ban: They never were rings in which the image of God was engraved . . . lest they should have it about them in an impure place. (V.P. 35.) 37 Taken in context, Pythagoras' ban against religious jewelry seems to reflect a concern that Holy images be shown the proper respect, rather than a tendency toward iconoclasm. 31The writings of Sextus, a pagan author of the second century A.D., were much admired by the Christian Rufinus, who translated his sentences from Greek to Latin. Though it is possible that Rufinus tampered with Sextus' words in order to emphasize their Christian overtones, he avoided any literal reference to Christ, and consequently their pythagorean orientation remains intact. Oxford Classical Dic- tionary, 2nd ed.: p. 984. 32 Kirk and Raven, p. 268. 33Ibid., p. 325; Fr. 3.1.9, Sextus Empiricus,Adversus Mathe- matics, 7.125. 34 Ibid., p. 349; Fr. 128, Porphyry, de abstinentia, 2.21. 35Empedocles, de natura, Fr. 23. 3€2h322£2§5 249c-150a. 269a-270a. 37Kird and Raven, pp. 372-74; Simplicius, Physics, Fr. 9 (35,14); Fr. 12(164.24, 156.13); Fr. 13(300.31). 38Republic, 10.614a-621d. 3233222113, 6.501b; Laws, 4.716d; Phaedrus. 248a; Theaetetus, 176b. CHAPTER IV THE ORIGINS OF GREEK ICONOCLASM AND ICONODULISM In the Ionian city of Miletus, a school of philosophy began to evolve in the seventh century B.C. which taught that matter and the life force were actually one and the same. In this respect their vision of the kosmos is fundamentally different than that of the dualists, and they are appropriately designated as the monists. Though they disagreed concerning which element was primary--Thales choosing water1 and Anaximander air2--they concurred that matter and spirit were one, that these principles were manifestations of a single element, and that the life of the material universe constituted the infinite.3 With the advent of Zenophanes and the Eleatic School, the monist conception of divinity began to clarify. Zenophanes, a native of Ionian ColOphon, was forced to emmigrate to Western Greece when Cyrus invaded his homeland. Zenophanes is traditionally credited with the foundation of the Eleatic School and with the instruction of the fifth century philosopher, Parmenides.4 While it is more likely that Zenophanes spent the remainder of his life as an itiner- ant teacher, perhaps visitng Elea from tine to time,5 the fundamental similarity between his philosophy and that of the younger Parmenides lends support to the existence of a teacher-pupil relationship. Con- sequently, though Parmenides and the Eleatics have been referred to 38 39 as dualists,6 their radical abhorrence of the physical universe is not in line with dualist beliefs, and united their philosophy more closely to the monism of Ionia, and the teachings of their legendary founder, Zenophanes. ZenOphanes, like Parmenides, conceived of God as a com- pletely abstract, isolated intelligence. Ridiculing the polytheistic anthropomorphism of his countrymen, he believed in only ". . . one God, greatest among gods and men, in no way similar to mortals either in body or thought."7 Zenophanes conceived of God in the form of an element which permeated matter and infused it with life in accordance with Milesian kosmology, yet he falls short of their literalism by failing to champion one elment above the others.8 While Zenophanes' god is not, therefore, strictly outside the perimeter of the physical universe,9 He is nonetheless immovable, aloof, and completely isolated from physicality. The formulation of this ambiguous, unapproachable conception of divinity constitutes Zenophanes' lasting influence on philosophical develOpment. His failure to resolve the relationship between divinity and the physical universe in his philosophy paved the way for the Stoic conception of divinity as inscrutable, incompre- hensible, and all-pervasive. The Stoics considered Heraclitus of Ephesus, an Ioniam philoso- pher of the early fifth century B.C., to be the founder of this kos- mology.lo Like Zenophanes, Heraclitus conceived of God, which he referred to as "Logos," as the one unchanging force of the Kosmos; the element which bound the fluctuating physical universe together. In true Milesian fashion, Heraclitus envisioned this force as one of the four basic physical elements. But he differed from his 40 predecessors in his choice of fire as this primary element. Fire was for Heraclitus the great creator and destroyer, the element through which all things were conceived, and by which they were ulti- mately consumed. Everliving fire was the source of man's immortality, for a spark of this fire lay dormant in his soul, and was resurrected on the day of his death.11 The historical and geographical circum- stances which surrounded the development of Heraclitus' philosophy may have helped determine his veneration of fire. The Persians, who had conquered Ionia by 496 B.C., venerated fire as the manifestation of their god of light and truth, Ahura-Mazda, in accordance with the teachings of the sixth century religious reformer Zoroaster.12 The Persians combined their exaltation of fire with a fanatic opposition to the anthropomorphic and zoomorphic traditions of their subject nations; an opposition which extended to their icons and temples. Consequently, their campaigns often had more the character of religi- ous crusades, as they reportedly ravaged the sacred complexes of the vanquished, burning temples and smashing icons.13 The icono- clasm of Heraclitus,14 and that of Zenophanes as well, may have been nourished by Persian Zoroastrianism. Persian ascendency in Ionia, spanning the mid-sixth and early fifth centuries15 combined with pre- vious, less violent cultural exchange-—had undoubtedly left its mark on their teachings. But regardless of the origins of Ionic icono- clasm, it is certain that the iconclastic faction of the Hellenic papulation, albeit small, was firmly entrenched by the fifth century B.C. Iconoclasm infiltrated Athens between 450 and 350 through the 41 cynics, Diogenes, and Antisthenes, the immediate predecessors of Stoicism. The Cynics were outspoken in their contempt for polytheism and icon veneration, and were quite naturally accused of antheism by the Athenians.16 In addition to their anti-hellenic denunciation of icons, the cynica were flagrant kosmopolitans, which occasioned their equally contemptuous attitude toward Greek patriotism. Regarding themselves as 17 the citizens of the universe rather than of any particular city, cynica viewed Hellenic pride with distaste, and considered it to be arrogant vanity. They were diametrically opposed to Plato's sophis- ticated dialectic, and likewise, to his reliance on knowledge and reason as the paths to the Good, believing instead that Virtue lay in 18 Neither of these attributes were attain- intuition and will power. able through the E:ku$V -dependent dialectic; they were contigent on the individual's reserve of faith and strength. Cynic reliance on these irrational and elusive human qualities predetermined its popu- larity with the masses, hence its modern designation as the "prolitar- ean philosophy of the ancient Mediterranean."19 However, while Cynicism provided the Mediterranean people with a philosophy more _consistent with the changing complexion of their world, it simultane- ously undermined not only Plato's theory of knowledge, but the entire dualist kosmology. Late in the fourth century, the radical anti-hellenic system of Cynicism was blended with Ionian Monism to create Stoicism. In the personality of Zeno, one of Stoicism's founding fathers, the orientalizing nature of the philosophy is personified. Zeno was 42 originally from Citium, a thoroughly Asian merchant city on the island of Cyrpus, and separated by the shore of Cilicia by a slender waterway. The rhetorical style of this semitic teacher20 was severe and concise; his clipped orations, reinforced by his dynamic presence, gave his pronouncements the quality of revealed, rather than of reasoned wisdom.21 The strict simplicity of his lifestyle, combined with his fierce insistence on moral rectitude, isolated him from the majority of the philosophers in his adopted city of Athens, and pre- disposed him to an alliance with the cynics.22 Like the Ionians, Zeno viewed the universe as one substance in various states, calling that substance Logos, and perceiving it in the form of fiery aether as Heraclitus had done before him.23 Logos, the fiery aether, was the perfect, immutable providence which governed the universe; faith in its perfect goodness and subjugation to its dictates was essential. In light of the omnipotence of Logos, the only thing over which the individual maintained control was the state of his own mind: For the Stoics, actions are of no moral consequence in them- selves; all that really matters is the state of the universe's rational tension at this or that moment. . . . A wise man's actions are part of the causal web that is the fated, divine plan of the world: all that is in his power is the condition of his mind, by which his virtue stands or falls.24 Individual actions were, therefore, of little consequence to Zeno and his followers; the condition of the mind and the motivation which controlled the meaning of an act were everything. Consequently, the bond between intension and action; between abstraction and physical- ity; and ultimately between humanity and divinity; was discarded. The Stoic god was an unknowable, unapproachable, immutable Reason 43 controlling the universe, before which man was impotent. Consistent with his completely abstract, nonanthrOpomorphic concept of diety, Zeno furthered the cause of iconoclasm by declaring that in the ideal city there would be no temples or "idols," for they could not ade-V quately honor the perfection of God.25 The Stoic contempt for the physical universe and the anthropo- morphic tradition, combined with the anxious political and ideological climate of the Mediterranean during the fourth century, had a profound impact on the development of Greek art. In accordance with Aristoli- lian Aesthetics, the Stoics believed art to be self-governing, having its own laws based on the systemization of items, relative only to the artistic medium per se.26 This is:uropposition to Plato, for whom art was, ideally, the perfect communion between the ideal con- cept and the practical knowledge of the artist, who was then morally obligated to follow the ideal in order to execute an object truthfully. fFOr Plato, physical expression was not severed from abstract paradigm; it was, rather, the material extension of that paradigm.27 Conse- quently, the ethics involved in the artistic process itself likened it to the dialectic, which gave profound significance to the resulting object. For Aristotle and the Stoics, however, the end result of any art should only be judged on its own, esthetic terms, and was in no way connected to ethics or morality. Art was, in other words, pri- marily intended to decorate and to entertain. This steady decrease in the inherent value of the art object was most vividly marked by the corresponding acceleration of realism in Greek sculpture during the 44 fourth century and Hellenistic era. Ancient, iconic elements such as frontality, linearity, monumentality and motionlessness, which will be discussed at length in the next chapter, were eroded by an accelerating obsession with naturalistic torsion and movement, having the effect of rendering the image isolated within its own ever-widening sphere. While the iconoclasm and cosmopolitanism of the Stoics remained atheistic and unpatriotic for the majority of Hellenes in the late fourth century B.C., as the decades passed and the empire of Alexander became the empire of the Romans, the security and clarity of the old religion rendered it impotent in the face of the expanding Mediterran- ean world. The generalized Stoic concepts of kosmopolitanism and providence seemed to answer more completely the philosophical needs of a fluctuating pOpulation; a melting pot which could no longer afford the luxurious naiveté of localized dieties and ethnocentrism. In addition, the Hellenistic era and the early Roman Empire were ages of religious curiosity. Mystery cults imported from all parts of the Mediterranean had large followings, appealing to the seemingly ubiquit- ous need for emotional release and spiritual exaltation, which the old cults and philosophy were no longer able to provide. However, philoso- phy did command increasingly large audiences. During the second and third centuries A.D., its popularity was unsurpassed. Familiarity with philosophical writings was widespread due to the increasing availablility of written commentaries, and the high literacy rate.28 A plethora of wandering philosophers roamed the harbors and markets of metropolitan and rural areas in order to satisfy the desire for 45 philosophical education. These developments combined with the virtu- ally wholesale adoption of Stoicism by the Romans to further its domi- nance. The emphasis which Stoic philOSOphy placed on simplicity, virtue, and Providence appealed to the Romans, and particularly to the Patricians, for whom it prescribed a way of life similar to their beloved, republican severity. But in spite of Stoicism and mystery cults, icon veneration persisted in the Roman Empire, particularly among the religiously con- servative Greeks.29 However, by the first century A.D., the threat against this ancient tradition had become serious enough to warrant the formulation of passionate, albeit carefully reasoned, apologies on its behalf. The first of such apologies to be recorded was delivered by the wandering philosopher, Dio Chrysostom, in the late first century. Dio was born in the thoroughly hellenized capital of Bithynia, Prusa. As a young man, he rose steadily in the ranks of the Civil Service, only to be banished from Italy and Bithynia by the Emperor Domitian.30 Rather than petition for pardon, he chose the life of an itinerant student, teacher, and advisor--a life which he continued even after his pardon was granted by the Emperor Trajan.31 Later in life--his fortune restored and his positions at court and in Prusa secured--Dio enjoyed emmense popularity, his orations drawing large crowds in major cities as well as in his native Prussa, within a few decades of his death, he was numbered among the philosophic immortals.32 Yet in spite of the reverence paid him by his contem- poraries, Dio has been neglected by the majority of modern historians.33 46 Unfortunately, those who have examined Dio's career have overempha- sized the Stoic qualities of his teachings, and exaggerated the extent 34 Dio was admired to which his exile may have colored his thinking. by many schools of philosophy; his orations reflect the eclecticism of ideas which was the mark of the self-taught philosopher.35 He was also a partiotic Hellene; a bastion of the traditions of his homeland, and therefore, could not have allied himself completely with the anti- hellenism of Cynicism and Stoicism.36 Dio's patriotism is most evident in his Twelfth, or Olympic, Discourse, which contains his defense of holy images. The Olympic Discourse was delivered by Dio c. 101 A.D. on the steps of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, before a large audience which had assembled there for the great games.37 Standing within sight of 38 Dio was moved to discuss how the concept of God was Phidias' Zeus, implanted in the minds of men, and how that conception was interpreted by poets, lawgivers, artists, and philosophers. The Discourse is subtitled On Man's First Conception of God, the first half consisting of a classification of the methods by which the concept of and belief in the gods has been transfused into the human mind. In the second half, Dio turns to a discussion of aesthetics, which revolves around the limits of the poetic and plastic arts. While this aesthetic dis- cussion is a fascinating study in and of itself, for it preceeds Lessing's Laocoon by centuries, it is the first half of this Discourse which is extremely important in the context of this paper, for it is here that Dio39 formulates a defense of icons which is later repeated 47 by Greek iconodules, pagan and Christian,from the first to the ninth centuries. In his apology, Dio plays the role of Phidias, asking his listeners to imagine that the great sculptor has been called before a tribunal of Hellenes who are demanding an explanation for his use of 40 the human form to symbolize divinity. This was a matter of great importance, as Phidias had created the definitive image of the god. Whereas before there had been myriad interpretations of Zeus, Phidias' magnificent, cryselephantine icon had superseded them all to become the "41 Consequently, it was crucial to determine just how 42 "vera icon. truthful the sculptor's presentation was. Phidias began his defense by reminding the jury that he had based his icon on the ancient descrip- tions of the most venerated image-makers in all Hellas, the poets.43 His most difficult task had been to find ". . . a posture that admits of no movement and is unalterable, so perfected that it will comprise within itself the whole of the god's nature and power."44 In spite of his concern for the proper, truthful presentation of the icon, Phidias, or rather Dio, was careful not to confuse the icon with its paradigm: For mind and intelligence in and of themselves no statuary or painter will ever be able to represent; for all men are utterly incapable of observing such attributes with their eyes or of learning of them by inquiry. But as for that in which this intelligence manifests itself, men, having no mere inkling thereof but actual knowledge, fly to it for refuge, attribut- ing to God a human body as a vessel to contain intelligence and rationality, in their lack of a better illustration, and in their perplexity seeking to indicate that which is invisible and unportrayable by means of something portrayable and visible, using the function of a symbol and doing so better than cer- tain barbarians, who are said to represent the divine by ani- mals-using as his starting point symbols which are trivial and absurd.45 48 Phidias then elaborates on the important function which the icon serves for Humankind: For certainly no one would maintain that it had been better that no statue or picture of gods should have been exhibited among men, on the ground that we should look only at the heavens. For although the intelligent man does indeed rever- ence all those objects, believing them to be blessed gods that he sees from a great distance, yet on account of our belief in the divine all men have a strong yearning to honour and worship the deity from close at hand, approaching and laying hold of him with persuasion by offering sacrifice and crowning him with garlands. For precisely as infant children when torn away from father or mother are filled with terrible longing and desire, and stretch out their hands to their absent parents often in their dreams, so also do men to the gods, rightly loving them for their beneficence and kinship, and being eager in every possible way to be with them and to hold converse with them.46 Phidias insists that he has been more true to the stature of divinity than the poet Homer,47 for unlike Homer, his icon is as far removed from humanity in its awesome majesty and material substance as it would be possible to make it without also sacrificing its intelligi- bility: But as to the product of my workmanship nobody, not even an insane person, would liken it to any mortal man soever, if it be carefully examined from the point of view of a god's beauty or stature.48 These fundamental elements of Dio's defense of anthropomorphic icons, which stress the theological importance of their symbolism and their humane practicality, became the stock arguments of the pagan iconodules of the Roman Empire. Late in the second century A.D., another itinerant lecturer named Maximus of Tyre spoke on behalf of icon veneration. Though he possessed considerably less originality and magnetism.than his 49 predecessor Dio, it is precisely his lack of originality which makes his statements concerning the issue so valuable. Lecturing in Athens and Rome during the riegn of Commodus (180-192), he was the author of 41 extant lectures. Maximus was very well-versed in Greek literature, although his philosophical knowledge was limited to Plato, whom he claimed to follow ardently.49 His lectures consisted chiefly of exhortations to virtue, which he ornamented with quotes from Plato and Homer. Believing himself to be a representative of Hellenic culture as Dio had,50 he was similarly compelled to defend the tradition of icon veneration. In Oration 38, which he subtitled "Whether Statues should be Dedicated to the Gods?" Maximus applauded the tradition of image-making to honor the gods as it occurred in all cultures, so long as the worshippers remained ". . . mindful of the object they 51 adore." He initiated his defense, as Dio had, by demonstrating the human dependence on symbolic images: . . . divine nature has no need of statues or alters; but human nature being very imbecile, and as much distant from divinity as earth from heaven, devised these symbols, in which it inserted the names and the reknown of the gods. Those, therefore, whose memory is robust, and who are able by directly extending their soul to heaven, to meet with divinity, have, perhaps, no need of statues. This race is, however, rare among men, and in a whole nation you will not find one who recollects divinity; and who is not in want of some kind of assistance. . . . It appears to me, therefore, that legislators devised these statues for men . . . as tokens of the honor which should be paid to divinity, and a certain manuduction, as it were, and path to reminiscence.52 While Maximus underlined the necessity of icons, he also attacked the vanity of those who felt they needed no assistance in recalling divinity, and exposed their arrogance with all the acidity of St. John 50 of Damascus.53 Maximus, like Dio, emphasized the common sense which lies behind the use of symbolic icons, comparing them to images which excite the memory of a beloved object.54 Maximus exalted the Greeks for their choice of the human form as the symbolic vessel of divinity, while he pitied the Egyptians and scorned the Persians for their 1 55 gnorance: . . . Greeks think it fit to honor gods from things the most beautiful in the earth, from a pure matter, the human form, and accurate art. . . . For if the human soul is most near and most similar to divinity, it is not reasonable to sup- pose that divinity would invest that which is mot similar to himself with a most deformed body, but rather with one which would be an easy vehicle to immortal souls, light, and adapted to motion.56 The similarity between Dio's and Maximus' line of defense seems to suggest a common source outside of both. Due to the intense religious curiosity which persisted throughout the Roman Empire and the expansion of education, it is possible that the iconodulist position was gradually formalized through widespread, popular debate, by ordinary, ardent Hellenes. The likelihood of this possibility is increased when the place of iconodulism in the popular literature of the second, third, and fourth centuries A.D. is considered. Apologetic tones are detectable in references made to icons, as if in response to an implied attack. Hence, Lucian of Samosata, when commanded.to recant his extravagant praise of Panthea, the Emperor's mistress, conde- scendingly reprimands her for confusing paradigm and icon: . . . it was not with the goddesses I compared you, my dear, but with masterpieces of good craftsmen made of stone or bronze or ivory; and what man has made, it is not impious, I take it, to compare with man. But perhaps you have assumed that what Phidias fashioned is Athena. . . . Come now, would 51 it not be unworthy to hold such beliefs about the gods whose real images, I for my part, assume to be unattainable by human Mimicry?57 Though Lucian severely criticized traditional hellenic religion in other works, he assumes here the incredulity which any Hellene would share when confronted by such a foolish misunderstanding. In addi- tion, the personal tone which Lucian has adopted here belies the controversial nature of his opinion concerning the relationship between icon and paradigm, for personal qualifiers are unnecessary when an opinion is accepted by the majority of self-evident. Callis- tratus, a commentator writing no earlier than the third century,58 adopted a similar apolegetic tone. However, Callistratus believed that icon and paradigm united in a "marvelous," mysterious way, in spite of their separation: To me, at any rate, the object before our eyes seems to be, not an image [tunos], but a modelled presentiment of truth; for see how art not only is not without power to delineate character, but, after having portrayed the god in an image [ ] it even passes over into the god himself. Matter though it is, it gives forth divine intelligence, and though it is the work of human hands, it succeeds in doing what handicrafts cannot accomplish, in that it begets in a marvelous way tokens of a soul. 59 Callistratus' defense of icon veneration echoes on a popular level the beliefs of his philosophical contemporaries, the neoplatonists. The teachings of this mystical philosophy, which was spearheaded by Plotinus and his followers in the third century, apotheosized the physical world, and the religious icon with it. Plotinus was born in 205 A.D., and embarked on his study of philosOphy at the age of twenty-seven in Alexandria. In 243 A.D., he 52 joined the eastward expedition of the Emperor Gordian III, hoping to gain more exposure to Indian and Persian philosophies. But the Emperor was murdered in Mesopotamia in 244, and Plotinus, who had narrowly escaped to Antioch, was forced to leave the east without the knowledge he had come for.60 Later in the same year, the philosopher moved to Rome, where he established himself as a teacher. While in Rome, he became the friend and confidant of the Emperor Gallienus, who had invited the master to revive an old colony of philosophers which had thrived in Campania. Plotinus was to rule the city in accordance with the principles laid out by Plato in his prg, and to christen the city "Platonopolis."61 The project may have had a practical, propa- gandistic side in addition to its obvious utopianism, for Gallienus was a proselytizing hellenist who hoped to found a cultural renais- sance in order to combat the insidious orientalism of the Gnostic and Christian doctrines. A polis governed by the ideals of philoso- phy's principle saint, Plato, may well have had significant impact.62 Unfortunately, the plan never came mafruition, for in 270 Plotinus died of a prolonged illness, which may have been some form of leprosy.63 The philosophy of Neoplatonism, however, survived its creator to become the predominant philosophy of the late Roman Empire, and the foundation of the hellenism within Byzantine theology. The Neoplatonism of Plotinus represents the final stage in the deve10pment of West Creek dualist philosophy. Perceiving the dualist principles of matter and spirit as a perfect fusion--unlike Plato, who sometimes viewed the physical principle as a necessary 53 evil--he exalted the finite universe as the emmenation and reflec- tion of divinity: It belongs to the nature of the All to make its entire content reproduce, most felicitiously, the Reason-Principles in which it participates; every particular thing is the image within matter of a Reason-Prinicple which itself images a pre- material Reason-Prinicple: thus every particular entity is linked to that Divine Being in whose likeness it is made, the divine principle which the soul contemplated and con- tained in the act of creation. Such meditation and represen- tation there must have been since it was equally impossible for the created to be without share in the Supreme, and for the Supreme to descend into the created.64 In order for humanity to comprehend the mysterious, magnetic polarity of the finite and infinite universes, it must rely on the physical 3 £1KOV£3 of the Reason-Principles. Consequently, the finite universe has paramount importance for the neoplatonists as the only path to the divine.65 Like Pythagoras, Plotinus stresses the kinship of all things; a kinship which unites the multiplicity of the finite universe to the Supreme.66 Plotinus is therefore, a strong advocate of the visual arts, which give form to the ideal of Beauty in the intellect of the artist, and thereby form an Chm/W for the creation of the kosmos: Now the stone thus wrought by the artist's hand to beauty of form is beautiful not as stone--for so the crude block would be as pleasant--but in virture of thezform imposed by art. This form is in the designer before ever it enters the stone; he holds it not by his equipment of hands and eyes, but by participation in his art. The beauty, therefore, exists in a far higher state in the art; that original beauty is not transferred; what comes oever over is a derivative and a mirror, and ever that appears in the statue only in so far as the stone yielded to the art. Art, then, must itself be beautiful in a far higher and purer degree, sinceixzis the seat and source of that beauty; in the degree in which the beauty is diffused by entering into matter it is so much the weaker than that concentrated in Unity.67 54 The artist is, therefore, a dilectician, who strives to create truth- ful images by relying on his skills, his tools, and his intellectual Ideal of Beauty. For Plotinus, the pursuit of beauty is itself an avenue to the Infinite, for beauty is perceived by the senses68 and conceived through the communication of matter in ". . . the thought 69 that flows from the Divine." This celebration of the visual arts quite naturally extended to anthropomorphic icons, the creation of which demonstrated not only the kinship of all things, but the neces- sity of beautiful form for the contemplative experience: I think, therefore, that those ancient sages, who sought to secure the presence of divine beings by the erection of shrines and statues, showed insight into the nature of the All; they perceived that, though this soul is everywhere tractable, its presence will be secured all the more readily when an appropriate recepticle is elaborated, a place espe- cially capable of receiving some portion or phase of it, something reproducing it, or representing it, and serving like a mirror to catch an image of it.70 Consequently, Plotinus' praise of Phidias' Zeus in Ennead 5 emphasizes the ideal nature of the great artist's vision, and the beauty of the icon which flows naturally from this vision: The arts give no bare reproduction of the thing seen, but go back to the ideas from which nature itself derives, and furthermore, much of their work is all their own; they are holders of beauty and add where nature is lacking. Thus Phidias wrought Zeus upon no model among things of Sense, but by apprehending what form Zeus must take it he chose to become manifest to sight.71 Plotinus' advocacy of Phidias' Zeus is identical in spirit with the earlier apology which Dio Chryaostom had delivered in the first century A.D. While both men praised the beauty and practicality of the icon, both men would also have considered the confusion of such an image with a portrait or with an actual god an impossibility, for 55 idea and divinity were ultimately intangible and abstract.72 The incredulity of these Hellenes, who clung fiercely to a tradition which was for them emminently humane, practical and yet mysteriously spiritual, was echoed by another group of Hellenes whose icon venera- tion was also dangerously threatened--the Creek Church Fathers of the ninth century. Though the term "iconodule" has been reserved for Christian Greek icon defenders, the similarities in their lives of defense, even extended to their use of similar analogies,73 makes it an appropriate lable for pagan Greek icon-defenders as well. The common source which is suggested here does not lie in the written dogma of either pagan or Christian Greek religion--it lies in the indigenous, hellenic conception of the kosmos, of humanity's place within it; and of the instinctual need to illustrate and honor its creator in human form. Dualism played a major role in the transmis- sion of this uniquely hellenic vision into Byznatine thought, for though Byzantine Neoplatonism was of the stoicized variety which Proclus had formulated in the fifth century,74 its dualist foundation remained intact. Dualist philos0phers from Empedocles to Plotinus had championed the senses as guides to the Infinite, and this belief was carried on by Creek Church Fathers from Pseudo-Dionysus the Areopogite to St. John of Damascus. The icon was therefore, an inte- gral part of the worship experience of pagan and Christian Greek alike, providing the punctuation which rendered the magnificent com- plexity of the kosmos intelligible. 56 A fundamental continuity underlies pagan and Christian Greek sacred art as well as philosophy. Because indigenous pagan Greek religion was strong between 800 and 400 B.C., it was also conservative. Consequently, sacred art was also conservative during this period, as it focused on the archetypal forms of icon and temple, and con- cerned itself with polishing and perfecting them. Christian Greek sacred art, or Byzantine art, was equally conservative during its classical phase of the Middle and Late Byzantine periods, and con- centrated on the refinement of its icon and church forms. These strong periods of pagan and Christian Greek sacred art were character- ized by the same respect for archetypal form, linear rhythm, and lucid presentation of the subject. The icon was of fundamental importance to both pagan and Christian Greek, for whom the anthropomorphic con- ception of divinity was as natural as the transformation of this conception into sculptures, paintings, and mosaics of sublime, measured beauty. To the icon, pagan and Christian Greeks added forma- lized religious architecture which physically embodied their doctrines. When the most eloquently descriptive architectural form had evolved, they deviated from it only in the case of small particulars, and never enough to compromise the archtype. Consequently, in addition to the theological/philosophical unity which underlies works such as the Zeus of Phidias, Temple of Zeus at Olympia, and the Demiurgos and Church of Daphni in Attica, there was an equally profound aesthetic unity which now requires dicussion. FOOTNOTES--CHAPTER IV 1C. 8. Kirk and J. E. Raven, The Presocratic Philosophers: A Critical History with a Selection of Texts (Cambridge, England: Cam- bridge University Press, 1957), p. 87: Aristotle, Metaphysics A3 983b 6. 2 Ibid., p. 150: Cicero, De Natura Deorum 1, 10, 26. 3Hence their alternative title, "Materialists." 4Kirk and Raven, p. 165: Aristotle, M553 A5-986b 18. 51bid., p. 164. 6See above, Chapter III, p. 7. 7Kirk and Raven, p. 169: Clement of Alexandria, Stromata 5.109.l. 8 Ibid., p. 172. 91bid. 10 V. E. Arnold, Roman Stoicism, 2nd ed. (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd., 1958), p. 35. 11Regarding "ever-living fire," see Kirk and Raven, p. 199: Clem. Alex, Strom. 5.104.l. Regarding "soul fore," see Kirk and Raven, pp. 207-208: Clem Alex, Strom. 4.141.1; Sextus Empiricus, Adversus Mathematicos 7.129. 12Arnold, p. 37. 13Ibid: Herodotus, 1.131, 8.104; Cicero, De Re Publica 3.9.14. 14 Kirk and Raven, p. 112: Fragment 5, Aristocritus, Theosophia 68. 15 p. 164. 16Arnold, p. 48: Antisthenes, Fragment S: Cicero, N.D. 1.13.32; Clem. Alex, Protrepticus 46c. Zenophanes had fled Colophon c. 546 B.C. Kirk and Raven, 57 58 17Ibid., p. 274: Diogenes Laertes, 6.63; Epictetus, Dis- courses 1.91, 13.22.91. 18Arnold, p. 49. 191616. 20Zeno may have been of Phoenician parentage. Edwyn R. Bevan, Stoics and Skeptics (Cambridge, England: W. Heffer and Sons, Ltd., 1959), p. 15. 21 Ibid., pp. 17-180 221616. 23Zeno attributed his kosmology to Heraclitus. Ibid., p. 186. 24John Rist, editor, The Stoics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1978), p. 283. 25Though Zeno himself had only mentioned temples in his ban, Clement of Alexandria added images when quoting the Stoic philosopher. It was an addition which Zeno would undoubtedly have applauded. Edwyn Bevan, Holy Images (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1940), pp. 65-66. 26For Aristotilian impact on the figuative arts, see John Onians' Art and Thought in the Hellenistic;ége: The Greek World View 350-50 B.C. (London: Thames and Hudson, 1979), pp. 53-63. For Stoic impact on the arts in general, see the article by F. E. Sparshott, "Zeno on Art: Anatomy of a Definition," in Rist's IRE Stoics (Berkeley, 1978), pp. 273-290. 27 See above, Chapter II, pp. 13-14. 28Chester Starr, Civilization and the Caesars: The Intellectual Revolution in the Roman Empire (New York: Norton and Co., Inc., 1965). 29Perhaps "consistent" or "profound" would be better word choices. Andres-Jean Festigiere, Personal Religion Amongythe Greeks (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1954), pp. 1-18. 30C. P. Jones, The Roman World of Dio Chrysostom (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978), p. 53. 31 Ibido ’ pp. 53-550 32Ibid., p. 55. 33Ibid., Preface, p. v. 59 34Ibid., p. 49: The "Diogenes Speeches," which Dio delivered c.100, are also at the root of this misinterpretation, resulting in his being labeled as a cynic. 35Eclecticism in philosophy was popularized by Posidonius in the second century B.C. Bevan, Stoics and Skeptics, pp. 86-96. 36 Bevan, Holy Images, p. 64. 37Jones, p. 53. 38The presence of Zeus at the games was symbolized by the lifting of a sumptuous purple curtain (Pausanias, Description of Greece 5.12.4) which otherwise concealed him from sight (Dio Chrysostom, Loeb Classical Library, p. 15, n. 3). 391 do not mean to suggest here that Dio literally invented this line of defense; see above, Chapter IV, p. 11. 40 Dio Chrysostom, Orations 12.49. 41According to legend, the Olympic games were established in the eighth century B.C. While the sanctuary grew steadily and naturally, the number of votive offerings increased, but no pivotal icon had ever been dedicated to the god. The Classical Temple of Zeus, built between 470 and 456, stood empty almost twenty years before Phidias' magnifi- cent creation filled the void. The Princeton Encyclopedia of Classi- cal Sites, Richard Stillwell and William L. MacDonald, eds. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), pp. 640-650. 42This is very reminiscent, and perhaps intentionally so, of Plato. See above, Chapter II, p. 14. 43 Dio, 95. 12.56. 441bid., 12.70: This is based on the well-established hellenic idea of divine "Seemliness," dignity and immutability, all of which were translated into the iconic style. See below, Chapter V, p. 451616.. 12.59. 46Ibid., 12.60-61. 471616., 12.62. 431616., 12.63. 49Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd edition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), p. 658. 50Bevan, Holy Images, p. 64. 60 51The Dissertations of Maximus Tyrius, Translated by Thomas Taylor. 2 Volumes. (London: C. Whittingham, 1804), p. 198. 52 Ibid., pp. 189-90. 53See above, Chapter I, pp. 7, 10 n. 29. 54Maximum Tyrius, p. 197. 551618., p. 191. 56Ibid., p. 190. 57Lucian, Essgy in Portraiture Defended 23. 58Oxford Classical Dictionary, p. 197. 59Callistratus, Ekphrasis 10.2: "Tumos" was often used as a synonym for (Mayday ; see above, Chapter I, pp. 189-19, n. 23. 60A. H. Armstrong, Plotinus (London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd., 1953), p. 13. 61Porphyry, Life 12. 62Armstrong, p. 14. 63Ibid., p. 15. 64Plotinus, Ennead 4.3.11. éépg. 1.9.8. 6§§p. 4.3.12; 5.8.1. 64§3. 5.8.1. éggp. 1.6.1. 62§p. 1.6.2. 7°En. 4.3.11. 71En. 5.8.1. 7?pg. 4.2.11; 5.8.1. 73 10, n. 51. 7('Gervase Mathew, Byzantine Aesthetics. Icon Eds. (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1971), p. 20. Compare Chapter I, pp. 4 and 7: with Chapter IV, pp. 9, 10, CHAPTER V THE AESTHETICS OF GREEK ICONS The sacred art of Greece, particularly that produced between c. 480 and 400 B.C., and c. 850 and 1075 A.D., was closely related stylistically as well as theologically and philOSOphically. The first period mentioned above, c. 480-400 B.C., contained the two stylistic phases universally recognized as the severe or transitional classical (c. 480-450 B.C.) and the high classical (c. 450-400 B.C.). The second period, c. 850-1075 A.D., is widely referred to as the Middle Byzantine period. However, Otto Demus has also referred to the Middle Byzantine period as the "Classical" Byzantine period,1 in order to emphasize the stylistic uniformity, purity, and strength of the churches and mosaics which were created during this period. But the more specific meaning of the word "classical," which refers to an actual period of Greek art, could and should be used as well, for the aesthetics of Greek sacred art during Middle Byzantine period and the fifth century B.C. were fundamentally the same. The similarity between the stylistic foundations of Classical pagan and Byzantine iconography naturally produced a similar effect on the worshipper, for the self-containment and quiet confidence which illuminates the iconography of both epochs embodied their shared Classical ideal. On page 5 of his Byzantine Mosaic Decoration, Otto Demus might well have 61 62 been describing Classical pagan iconography in his summation of Byzantine stylistic intention: The individual pictures do not aim at evoking the emotions of pity, fear or hope; any such appeal would have been felt as all too human, too theatrical, and out of tune with the tenor of religious assurance which pervades the ensembles and leaves no room for spiritual and moral problems. Consequently, in order to stress the unity of their iconic style, I will refer periodicallytx>the Greek sacred art of both the fifth century B.C. and the ninth to eleventh centuries A.D. as "Classical." The Greek iconic style had several distinct characteristics which, when woven together, created a symbolic representation of absolute, divine Being. The iconic style is synergistic-—no single aspect of the style can be separated out from the rest without a simultaneous reduction in the power of the image. The Greek icon was, like the dualist kosmos, a mystic union of opposite principles; a union of the ideal concept within the mind of the artist, the spiritual- ism of the worshipper, and the materials of craft. The Classical Greek sacred complex, pagan and Christian, revolved around a single principle icon. In the pagan temple of the fifth century B.C., this central icon generally consisted of a sculptural image of the sanctuary's chief diety. In the Middle Byzantine church, the central icon was the mosaic representation of the Demiurgos, or Pantocrator. The image of Christ the Demiurgos, meaning "artisan" or "craftsman,' represent the God- man in His aspect as the Creator of the physical universe. Because the Byzantine Demiurgos was theologically rooted in pagan antiquity as well as stylistically, I have chosen the reknown chryselephantine Zeus of the 63 fifth century B.C. Master, Phidias, and the Demiurgos of the Middle Benzantine Catholicor of Daphni as the subjects of my comparison.2 The title of Demiurgos was an ancient one among the Greeks-- Pindar had used it when referring to Zeus as the "consummate artist,"3 as Plato had when referring to the creator of the physical universe.4 The word "craftsman" did not have the menial connotations for Pindar and Plato that it has had for centuries now in the West. For Plato, true craftsmanship was a profoundly virtuous process,5 which evolved into a verbal {‘1'ch6' for the pursuit of knowledge through dialectic. When Plato used the term to describe the creator of the physical uni- verse, he was confining the divine craftsman to the same, absolute laws which governed the mortal craftsman. By confining the heavenly Demiurgos to creation in accordance with perfect paradigms, he proves the existence of another, higher source, which emmanates the paradigms and the Demiurgos itself.6 Because the physical universe was modelled on perfect paradigms, it is essentially good and beautiful. This belief in the a priori virtue and beauty of the physical universe was essential to the Greek view of the Kosmos, and was never relinquished.7 Unfortunately, when the Gnostics usurped the term Demiurgos, it acquired an uncharacteristic, negative connotation. The Gnostics also regarded the Demiurgos as the creater of the physical universe, but they viewed his creation as flawed and ultimately sinful. The gnostic Demiurgos was a mischievous imposter, a trickster who creates without knowledge of the paradigms.8 Fortunately, this dismal view of the Demiurgos and his creation an eloquent opponent in the person of Plotinus, the founder of neoplatonism. 64 Plotinus was undoubtedly the most influential thinker of late Antiquity. As a dualist, he was adamantly opposed to the gnostic doctrine, and succeeded in restoring and enhancing the original, platonic meaning of the Demiurgos. Plotinus believed the physical universe to be the perfect reflection of the intelligible, or abstract, universe; the perfect creation of a perfect Creator.9 According to Plotinus' hierarchy, the Source manifested itself as a trinity--Monad, Nous, and Psyche. The last emanation, Psyche, formed the bridge between the physical and abstract universes.lo When referring to these emanations, Plotinus sometimes used the familiar names of Ouranios, Kronos, and Zeus, respectively.11 Zeus was, therefore, synonymous with the Demiurgos, forming the bridge between man and God as man's own soul bridged the physical and abstract universes.12 The coming of Christ, the God-man who mediates between heaven and earth, was the ful- fillment of the ancient title of Demiurgos. The actual icon representations of the Demiurgos had stylistic roots as deep as its theological ones for the icons produced in Greece through the fifth century B.C. and again during the Middle Byzantine period were based on the same stylistic foundation. The Classical Greek iconic style as exemplified by the Zeus of Phidias and the Demiurgos at Daphni, was characterized by four basic elements: frontality, an overwhelming impression of "seemliness," rhythmic linearity, and the use of pure, symbolic colors. Of these four ele- ments, frontality was not only the most ancient, but the most powerful as well, for it was through frontality that the relationship between 65 prototype, worshipper, and icon was emphasized and the immutability, or "seemliness," of perfect Being was represented. Frontality is a stylistic trait which is found in all primi- tive and naive art and which can be described as conceptualistic; meaning that the representation of the idea or concept of an object was of greater importance to the artist than its visual reality. This overriding concern for the concept renders the presentation of such transitory variables as depth and texture subordinate to the creation of the intelligible form of an idea.13 The human figure naturally represents quite a challenge to such artists. Characterized by change and motion, the human form is difficult to simplify without sacrificing its essential fluidity and movement, but it was precisely this sacrifice which the primitive Greek artists of the eighth century B.C. made in their geometric abbreviations of the human figure (Figure 4). As the centuries progressed, and tools, skills, and sculptural techniques were refined, the rigid frontality of early monumental sculpture was no longer a technical necessity,14 yet it remained an integral part of the iconic style throughout the fifth century B.C. (Figures 5, 6, and 7). Why this vein of conservatism in a sculptural tradition which, in all other respects, was characterized by its desire for, and evolution toward, artistic "truth to Nature?"15 It is this very desire for "truth to Nature" which causes hellenic sculptors to retain motionless frontality in their cult images and simultaneously work toward greater naturalism and flexibility in 66 Figure 4.--Geometric Krater. Eighth Century B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 410). 67 Figure 5.--Maiden from Attica. c. 580-570 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 66). 68 .. ‘V " '1 7 A: :‘ y.- 9‘. 1 ‘1‘ If '4 was; ' Figure 6.--Aegina: West Pediment, Athena. c. 490 B.C. (Photo: Ridgway, Severe Style, Fig. 1). 69 Figure 7.--The Varvakeion Athena. Copy of original by Phidias, c. 430 B.C. (Wood Engraving: Waldstein, Plate XIV). 70 their representations of mortals--divine Nature is not the same as human Nature. The casual grace, confidence, and potential energy which a classical sculpture such as the Doryphoros (Figure 8) exhibited was admired by the ancients for its idealized "humanness," but this "humannessf'was not suitable for the representation of a god, as the ancients well understood.16 Consequently, Phidias retained the tradi- tional frontality in his chryselephantine Zeus, for its conceptual intelligibility and its lucid illustration of divine seemliness. Phidias began construction of the chryselephantine Zeus about 438 B.C., upon completion of the Athena Parthenos in Athens. When he finished about 430,17 he had created the definitive image of Zeus, the father of gods and men. By virtue of its fame among the ancients, the Zeus is undoubtedly the best documented icon of antiquity. Through written descriptions and reproductions which have survived our time, we are able to accurately reconstruct this masterpiece of Phidias. The most detailed account of the Zeus' appearance is found in The Description of Greece, a sort of tour book of Greece written by Pausasios in the second century A.D. Pausanias describes the icon of Zeus: The image of the god is in gold and ivory, sealed on a throne. And a crown is on his head imitating the foliage of the olive tree. On his right hand he holds a victory in ivory and gold . . . and in his left hand a sceptre adorned with all manner of precious metal, and the bird seated on the sceptic is an eagle. The robe and sandles of the god are also of gold; and on his robe are imitations of animals and also of lilies. And the throne is richly adorned with gold and with precious stones and with ebony and ivory. Upon it there are painted figures and wrought images. 71 Figure 8.--Doryphoros, by Polyclitus. c. 450-440 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 155). 72 Pausanias' description is supported by a series of elean coins issued in A.D. 133 during the reign of Hadrian, which delicately reproduce the profile view of the full icon. Phidias' colossol chryselephantine icons were unprecedented both in size and material. The titanic Zeus (Figure 9) was approximately forty feet or 13 meters, high, its head brushing the ceiling of the largest temple on the Peloponnese. The statue base occupied the entire width and one-third the length of the Naos, an area of about 6.5 by 10 meters.19 The size of the Zeus presented unusual problems of perspective, for Phidias wanted to emphasize the role of Zeus as lord Of the universe and therefore wanted attention to focus on the god's head, which was allegorical center Of universal reason. A gigantic head required a proportionately large body, and so Phidias enthroned Zeus to allow the requisite proportions and ensure the automatic focus of the worshipper's attention to the head of Zeus.20 In addi- tion, a better view of Zeus's head was available to pilgrims by mount- ing a stair case to the second floor gallery of the Naos. Phidias probably chose his materials for their symbolic associa- tion and stylistic advantages. A substructure of wood formed the support the shining sheath Of gold and ivory. Using gold for the hair and drapery, ivory for the face, arms, chest and waist Of Zeus, Phidias was able to approach naturalism while incorporating the pristine white and fiery gold which had long been the celestial colors the lord of the bright sky.21 In addition, the chryselephantine surface had the Optical vibrance which Phidias required for his interpretationcflEZeus. The lifelessness which a stone image of such 73 Figure 9.--The Zeus of Phidias (Reconstructed by Adler). c. 430 B.C. (Drawing: Dress, Fig. 38). 74 proportion would convey was not appropriate for the representation of Zeus. In the dimly lit Naos, the very surface of the icon had to be light and buoyant so that its proportions would not compete with the idea which it was intended to represent, as Ludwig Dress describes in his book, Olympia: Gods, Artists, Athletes: The reflected light from these [gold and ivory] surfaces would have counteracted the sense Of dead weight which would other- wise have been produced by a statue of such proportions. In fact, mass would have been transformed into light, as was only fitting for this god of light, who was the guiding spirit Of the universe.22 Compositionally, the Zeus Of Phidias adhered to the formulae "23 which dominated Greek sculpture through of "quadrate composition the fifth century B.C., and which the more naturalistic sculptors, such as Polyclitos, were gradually abandoning. Seated squarely on his throng, his right hand extended and holding the Nike figure, eyes gazing forward, the Zeus was best viewed from the front or the side, where contours of his form and the modelling lines of his garments most clearly delineated his appearance. Any other viewpoint which the worshipper might select rendered the image confused and unintelligible. The worshipper was locked into communication with the icon through its quadrate frontality, which made this compositional style, antiquated though it was, the archtypical embodiment Of the pervasive power and presence Of divinity. In addition, the impression of divine seemliness which this highly conceptualized quadrate frontality imposed on the worshipper provided the foundation of symbolic power for the icon. The seemliness of a diety might be described as its character- istic divine dignity, which places it above motion and action. 75 Stemming from the Homeric idea that divine will was accomplished through the implantation Of motion in others, action was seen as inconsistent with divine dignity, hence Homer's description of Zeus in Illiad 1.530 illustrates the god's ability to ". . . accomplish "24 "Zeus . . . bowed his thought . . . from his holy resting place: sable brows. The ambrosial locks rolled forward from the immortal head Of the king, and high Olympus shook." Appropriately, it was this very quote which Phidias chose to illustrate in his icon,25 which was lauded by the ancients as the most powerful presentation of the mystery cu? divine presence ever created. However, the strength and dignity of Phidias' icon was not only derived from the artist's understanding of ideal beauty,26 but also from his adherence to the iconic stylistic vocabulary which had evolved centuries before. Ele- ments of primitivism, such as rigid frontality, were retained in Classical religious sculpture because they were more representative Of divinity, and therefore more truthful. The same conservatism need not apply to the sculptural representation of mortals, for the creation of such images was not by nature as grave a process. Conse- quently, the stillness and severity which characterized the icons Of Phidias, and for which he was so admired, was outmoded by the standards of his contemporaries,27 such as Polyclitus, who were not as restricted by their choice of subject matter. This divergence in Greek sculpture during the fifth century may partially explain its subsequent develop- ment during the fourth century and Hellenistic era. The Obsessive realism, emotionalism, and theatricality which typified the sculpture of the Hellenistic period were realized in 76 themes which stressed human conflict. Dramatic, virtuoso compositions were designed as public entertainment, "tableaux vivant" (Figures 10-11) through which the artist and spectators could explore the human soul. An icon, however, was a very different thing. Icons, particu- larly ancient xoanon, were revered as holy Objects by the Greeks, and were not replaced unless they were destroyed. A primitive wooden xoanon might inhabit a sanctuary alongside a newer, more elaborate icon,28 or a temple might have been rebuilt to house an ancient icon,29 but an image was not destroyed simply by virture of its antiquity or primitivism. Consequently, though the production Of new images in the iconic style by sculptors like Phidias may have decreased during the fourth century and the Hellenistic period, as the gap left behind by Persian destruction was gradually refilled. But the ancient xoanon, along with their move refined counterparts of the fifth century, remained. As the centuries passed, the stylistic vocabulary of these images became synonymous with holiness, and the Byzantine iconic style became their legacy. It did not take long for the Victory of Orthodoxy in A.D. 842 to influence artistic form. Also referred to as the Macedonian Renasisance, the Middle Byzantine period which ensued after the victory of orthodoxy and continued until 1071 was dominated artistically by an interest in Hellenic antiquity and a desire to infuse Old scene com- positions and even religious architecture with new, more elegant rhythmic patterns.3O Though Constantinople was the hub of the Byzantine Empire, and therefore the city where artistic innovations were ini- tiated, these innovations quickly spread to the outlying regions of 77 Figure 10.--Laocoon, by Hagesandros. Polydoros and Athanodorus. c. 175-150 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 236). 78 Figure 11.—-Gaul killing himself and his wife. c. 240-200 B.C. (Photo: Richter, Fig. 231). 79 the Empire. One reason for the spread Of the Middle Byzantine style was the decreased size Of the Empire. During the ninth century, the Empire consisted Of Greece, the South Balkans, Thrace and Asia Minor, with footholds in South Italy and the Caucasus and gradual expansion into Northern Mesopotania and Northern Syria (Figure 12). The dimin- ished size of the Empire allowed it to be run more effectively and also had the advantage of being culturally, linguistically and reli- giously homogenous, for though the Middle Byzantines called themselves "Romans, they were thoroughly Creek.31 The territory which the Byzantine Empire occupied in the ninth century was almost identical to the territory which the ancient Hellenes had colonized more than twelve centuries before--Constantinople itself had been founded under the name of Byzantium in the mid-seventh century B.C. by the Megarans (Figure 13). The literature of the Middle Byzantine period is dominated by references to ancient Greek Mythology, and encyclopaedic knowledge of the Greek Classics was considered the mark Of an educated man. At times, it seems that the Middle Byzantines may have been in competition with their Ancient fore-bearers, as in this description given by Theophilus (829-842) Of the Emperor Basil I's throne: The Emperor's throne was constructed with such skill that at one time it was level with the ground, at another it was raised above it and then in a moment it hung aloft. It was guarded as it were by lions Of immense size--one could not be sure if they were made of brass or wood, but they were certainly covered with gold on the surface--which opening their mouths and moving their tongues roared aloud and shook the ground with their tails.32 80 .Aaoofi .mxoon seaweed "eemflmcm 0.0.. Q . O . 0.0.0000 Houmfim Hm>Ofivuz mo mmHu< can can any .nuuoamusanmmv .kvo>muz ofiaoo .HN .N G < vauoz amusmuumufioozul.wg ouswwm bem— 81 . . .Am an: .eauos ucoaoq< o m connoma .aoaupuaaapao sauna up aoa«pmaxmn-.«~ possum "amzv Ono mo huoumfim one .uumum (988; Saws ........... 1..-! . , 89.6.2. 1‘“. .1 1.- . 53.-con)- , in, c 3.8.6:, .4 3. 4 38.3.4 : . .. .. A .. . . 1 7 I V N I. . I D I. 35:383.. d3 5“ 55. .. . 531M. . .. .— D < 0 «Wh.mw 1.8: m ”W . l/I\|/\I\J - u -- - - o m WI Huh". .5 - 1.1... Wm . . Wt. M .... 4 0.. 23.0.. can legs—U lung 50 2% 0 g {L 88% is as- _. szwyxzx no u. .. “I. . 4 . HIVJ 82 The Emperor's throne recalls the magnificence Of another, by that time legendary, throne of the Zeus of Phidias, which was a paradigm of virtuoso craftsmanship and similarly adorned with though of course, it lacked the mechanical trappings Of the Byzantine throne. It is possible that Basil I this designers felt themselves to be in competition with the legendary throne Of Zeus, and with the icon itself which Phidias had created to celebrate the pagan father of the gods in the mid-fifth century B.C. According to some accounts, the Zeus of Phidias had been moved to Constantinople by the time Of the death Of Theodosius I in 395. It is possible that the image had been brought there after Theodosius' ban on pagan cults had allegedly closed the games in A.D. 391. At any rate, Cedrenus' recorded that the Zeus was in the possession of a wealthy man named Lausus, and that it remained in his palace-tuudfl. 462, when a great 34 The fire destroyed Lausus' palace along with a great many others. resurging interest Of the Middle Byzantines in their Hellenic heritage, together with the onettime presence of the Zeus--or perhaps a copy of it--in Constantinople may have combined to make the Zeus a pagan prece- dence of splendor to be competed against and surpassed by the victori- ous orthodox, as well as a paradigm of the monumental magnificence which can be achieved in an Offering to God. The renewed enthusiasm for elegance is magnificence which character- ized the Middle Byzantine period found its most eloquent, monumental expression in the formulation Of a new church architecture. The Old Basillica plan which had been favored by Justinian during the first 83 flowering Of Byzantine art in the sixth century, and which continued to be favored in the west, was abandoned. In its place, an equal- armed cross inscribed within a circle, with domes above the crux of the cross and above the end of eaCh of its arms was developed. The result was a complex harmony of angles and curves, flat and vaulted surfaces--an elegant rhythmic composition Of solids and voids. On this geometric abstraction which formed the churches' interior, the holy icons of the Demiurgos, the Virgin, and the narrative Christo- logical cycle were inscribed; their forms emphasized by their monu- mental splendour and their placement against a spacelss ground of golden tesserae, which seemed to negate the already severely depleted sense of mass or solidity. This new Architectural style was intro- duced in Constantinople in the form of the Neo Ecclesia, a: church founded and built by Basil I, and soon spread to the Provinces. It is through these provincial, Often monastic, churches--such as the Catholicon at Daphni, Greecew-that we are able to evaluate Middle Byzantine religious architecture, for none of the Middle Byzantine churches Of Constantinople remain. The mosaic decoration of a Classical, Middle Byzantine church, such as the Catholicon at Daphni, was a carefully planned composition, in which flights Of artistic imagination had no place. The church was designed to be an icon of the kosmos, and its imagery was intended to illustrate the relationship between the spiritual and material universes. The clarity and intelligibility of the icon was of utmost importance to the Byzantine designer, and the Classical cross-in- square plan Of the Middle Byzantine church developed in the ninth 84 century. As the ideal complementary framework for the narrative mosaics. Though the church at Daphni was founded as a monastary in the time of Justinian, it was rebuilt at the end. At the eleventh century, at which time it acquired the characteristic appearance Of the Byzantine churches of the period. The church was structurally and narratively divided into three zones. The highest zone consisted of the dome and apse and contained the holiest images Of Christ, the Virgin and the Angels. The second zone was formed by the squinches and transcepts and narthex and contained the festival, or christologi- cal cycle--scenes from the life of Christ and the Virgin. The third zone, composed of piers, gallerys and the lowest segment of the Naos 35 The spiritual accessi- walls, were peopled with icons Of the saints. bility Of an icon was in direct proportion to its placement within the church, hence the proximity of the saints to the worshipper. The icon of the Demiurgos, however, was the least accessible spiritually, as well as spatially, as can be seen in the classical representation of the Deniurgos found at Daphni. Like the Zeus Of Phidias, the Demiurgos of Daphni (Figure 14) is characterized by a dignified frontality and a magnificence of scale which symbolically isolate it from the impurities of the physical universe. High above the naos, suspended in a golden vacuum, the grave eyes Of the Demiurgos seem to command and activate the lower regions of mosaic with homeric telepathy. But in spite Of the dis- tance between the icon and the worshipper, the Demiurgos is a strangely tangible presence; he is, in fact, inescapable; for his 85 o - r Figure 14.--Demiurgos, Daphni: c. 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus, Plate 1). 86 presence dominates the sanctuary as completely as if he were, like the Zeus, forty feet tall and made Of gold and ivory. The worshipper is immediately drawn into communication with the icon through its hypnotic frontality, which develops into a feeling of tangibility and volume after further contemplation. The Byzantine mosaicists of the post-Iconoclastic period, deprived of the medium of sculpture, were able to recreate actual volume and space in their mosaics by placing them on vaulted surfaces as Opposed to flat walls. Conse- quently, the very surface of the cupola created the illusion of actual space, enabling the arms of Christ to enfold the worshipper without resorting to tricks of illusionism, such as foreshortening, which violated the intelligibility Of the icon.36 The utilization of curved surfaces by Middle Byzantine mosaicists produced an illusion Of three-dimensionality and accessi- bility while simultaneously it did not interfere with the necessary effect Of seemliness. MOtion was undignified and inconsistent with Being for Greek Christians as it had been for Greek pagans, and therefore did not befit the presentation of an icon as holy as the Demiurgos.37 However, the curvature of Domes, apses and squinches permitted a stylistic dynamism independent of the anatomical contor- sions which would have been considered unnatural or undignified for the presentation of divinity. The only motion which was permissible in a Classical Greek, nonnarrative icon was implied or stylistic motion, which preserved the dynamic symmetry (rhythm) Of the icon without admitting uncharacteristic movement. TO this end, the 87 Classical Greek Iconographers also utilized contour and modelling lines, which counteracted the two-dimensionality of the mosaics by defining form, and created a style of sinuous, rhythimc grace. The exploitation of modelling lines in drapery as a means of revealing the curving volume of the body by delineating it, was a stylistic devise attributed to the school of Phidias, which, in reality, had begun its evolution much earlier.38 However, once established, this device evolved into one of the most gracefully expressive and influential of all hellenic sculptural techniques. In both the Attendant figure (Figure 15) from the East Pediment of the Temple Of Zeus at Olympia and the Daphni Demiurgos, the modelling lines of the drapery are rendered to echo the volume Of the figure. The lines of the drapery which spans the torso of the Demiurgos are drawn in a curved bow, which emphasize the Optical reality Of the drapery's behavior and therefore effectively reproduce an impression of volume. The shape of the Attendant's legs, swathed in drapery, are similarly delineated. In addition to the volume which the modelling lines reveal, they also impart a rhythmic fluidity to the composition, and aid in the creation Of the sensuous, linear dynamism which has long been associated with Greek art. Finally, pagan and Byzantine icons are aesthetically similar in the use Of color. The colors preferred by Greek icon makers through the fifth century B.C. were pure and arbitrary, which some- times resulted in the tinting Of hair on beards in an intense red 39 or blue. This love of pure, rich color was shared by the Middle 88 Figure 15.--Olympia, East pediment, Attendant. c. 460 B.C. (Photo: Carpenter, Greek Sculpture, Plate XVII). 89 Byzantine mosaicists, and was particularly evident in the second zone which contained the Christological cycle, the life of Christ on earth.40 The seemingly arbitrary use of color by the sculptors of the fifth century B.C. suggests that the colors chosen may have had symbolic meaning. This was certainly true for the Byzantines, for whom color was fixed by iconographical rules, the origin of which lay buried in pagan antiquity.41 By and large, the exact meaning of a specific color has become a difficult thing to trace and confirm, a fortunate exception, however, being the celestial colors Of blue, white, and gold. The Byzantines reserved these sacred colors for Christ, the Virgin and the Angels, displaying them most intensely in the highest region of the church. The Demiurgos icon, which repre- sented Christ in glory after the Resurrection, depicted Christ in robes Of purple and gold, robes Of white and gold were used for the Transfiguration, and robes Of blue and gold were used in the Chris- tological cycle.42 These were also the colors reserved for Zeus, lord of the Bright Sky. Zeus was believed to have inhabited the aura of the sun, which homeric and pre-Classical Greeks perceived as a fiery aether,43 and which artists portrayed as a glimmering sheen of gold. In addition, numerous hellenistic example depict Zeus draped in blue (Figure 16) as a symbolic representation of the billowing canopy of the sky. This color scheme was retained by the Byzantines, with some minor modifications. For example, the Demiurgos icon Often depict Christ in purple robes Of earthly regality to retain the clarity Of the dual nature Of the God-man. However, in scenes of the Trans- figuration, in which Christ revealed his holiness and was permeated 90 Cook, (Drawing: Figure 16.--Zeus from a Pompeiian Wall Painting. Plate 1). 91 with divine light, He is traditionally shown in robes Of white and gold. Phidias, whose Zeus enthroned likewise illustrated the majesty and purity Of the Source, also chose the pristine clarity of gold and ivory. The sensuous splendor Of the Zeus of Phidias and the Demiurgos at Daphni must have appealed to pagan and Byzantine Greeks in much the same way. True to their dualist tradition, the worshippers of both epochs believed in the necessity and value of the senses in order to heighten religious experience. The silent grandeur of the bejeweled44 chryselephantine Zeus, a gleaming spectrum in the dim, torchlit naos, was an 6’: Lu“ of light--an ideal which the Byzantine mosaicists were to strive for also.45 The central icon was the final punctuation of the Classical Greek sacred complex, pagan and Christian. It was, in Plotinian terms, the final "emanation" of the trinity which composed the complex-~the trinity Of landscape, temple or church and icon.46 Of these three " the least abstract and therefore the most humanly intel- "emanations, ligible is the icon, for it is made in the human form. The central icon, however, should not be viewed in isolation, but in concert with the entire sanctuary, and particularly with its attending narrative iconography. The narrative iconography, taking the form of sculpture in ancient Greece and Mosaic in Byzantine Greece, reinforces and elaborates the meaning of the central icon through the representation myths and scriptures which illustrate the role of humanity in the Kosmos. The narrative iconography is an integral part Of the central icon's ultimate intelligibility and therefore deserves closer scrutiny. 92 Byzantine theology viewed the worshipper as a participant worthy of salvation, whose place within the hierarchical organization of the church was guaranteed.47 Consequently, the iconography of the Byzantine church did not moralize or attempt to inspire fear or guilt in the worshipper. Scenes which were popular in the West during the Middle Ages for their moralistic and judgmental messages, such as the Last Judgment and the Virtues and Vices, were virtually nonexistent 48 in the Eastern church. Instead, this church emphasized the a priori value of humanity and the physical universe, as well as the "democracy" of salvation, through the Koimesis (Dormition of the Virgin)49 and the Anabasis (Harrowing of Hell). Though neither of these events can be traced to scripture, their pervasive presence in Middle Byzantine iconography is nonetheless perfectly consistent with the Hellenic need to illustrate the triumph of reason and light over kaos and darkness. This need had been answered in the iconography Of fifth century Greece by the ubiquitous Centauromache, Amazonamache, and Gigantomache. Nowhere was the Hellenic belief in the victory of humanity/ reason overfibeastiality/darkness more lucidly illustrated than in the iconography Of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia, which was constructed between 470 and 456 B.C. The sculpture of this Severe Classical temple ingeniously combined the depiction of local lore with subjects of universal Hellenic appeal. The entablatures above the pillars of the Opisthodomos and pronoas presented the Labors of Herakles (Fig- ures 17 and 18). A hero intimately connected with Elia, Herakles was believed to be the conqueror of the region50 and, by some accounts, 93 450 B.C. C. Conjectural Restorations (M. Kuhnert in Curtius-Adler, Olyppia). Ashmole, Fig. 71). Figure 17.--Olympia, Temple Of Zeus: (Drawing: 94 Figure 18.--01ympia, Temple of Zeus: Metope Of the Cretan Bull. c. 460 3.x. (Photo: Asmole, Fig. 88). 95 the founder of the Olympic Games.51 In the metopes, however, he appears neither as a conqueror nor as a sportsman, but as a savior. A combination of physical brawn and divinely inspired will, Herakles magnified the structural strength Of Humankind, and symbolized its ability to conquer darkness through the combined forces of reason and physical prowess. A narrative scene Of little local significance and a great deal of universal theological significance was depicted on the western pediment of the Temple. The Centauromache, (Figures 19 and 20) like the Labors Of Herakles, emphasized the victory of Human reason over beastial kaos; like the Koimesis and Anabasis, its essential meaning is the a priori value Of humanity. This value stemmed from the belief that humanity had been created in the image of God, to be the earthly vessel of divine reason and the caretaker of the physical universe. The Centauromache, like the Christological cycle, represents the extension Of divine power on earth and the function Of humanity's dual nature as the vehicle of divine will. The coming Of Christ--Of God in the vessel Of the human body--is the fulfillment Of the Hellenic belief in an anthropomorphic pantheon. It is not surprising, given the antiquity of their belief, that the Creek Church Fathers fought so tenaciously to retain the iconography Of the God-man: Who is capable Of making a likeness of God Who is invisible, incorporeal . . . and without form? . . . But since God, out Of his innermost mercy, became truly man . . . the fathers saw fit that these things should be represented in images, like deeds Of prowess, to serve as brief remind- 52 ers. . . . 96 Figure 19.--Olympia: West Pediment of the Temple of Zeus. c. 460 B.C. (Photo: Ashmole, Fig. 20). 97 r. . 1 M19. .413 3:43 £51.“... .2225; )lyrnpix Conjectural mangnnau ofzhc Wu podium oftheumplc al'Zeus Figure 20.-—01ympia, Conjectural Reconstruction of West Pediment, Temple of Zeus. (Model: Ashmole, Fig. 28). 98 The metopes and west Pediment of the Temple of Zeus correspond to the narrative mosaic of a Middle Byzantine church such as Daphni on a stylistic, as well as theological level. In contrast to the cen- tral icon, whose immutable, motionless presence was isolated and inviolate, the narrative iconography involved motion. Because motion, or the action Of Becoming, is the condition Of the physical universe, motion best characterizes matter. Consequently, in the narrative scenes Of the Christological cycle found in the squinches, trans- cepts, and narthex at Daphni, motion is not only permissible, but necessary. The movement which typified Middle Byzantine Mosaics-- such as the adjacent Squinch Mosaics of the transfiguration and Baptism Of Christ, and the narthex mosaic Of the Betrayal Of Judas (Figures 21, 22 and 23)--is fluid and idealized, a product of the sinuous linearity which wrapped the participants in an undulating band around the motionless figure Of Christ. The unity of the figures is emphasized through the use of curved surfaces which allow dynamism without introducing violent, undignified movement. In the squinch mosaic Of the transfiguration (Figure 22), the figures of the Apostles actually able to face Christ, due to their placement around the out- side curving edge Of the squinch, without having to turn their faces away from the worshipper. This compositional arrangement, with Christ in the central, deepest part of the squinch and encircled by apostles, perfectly suits not only the physical space, but the sym- bolic dichotomy Of divinity and humanity as well. It is as if Christ were the hub of some kosmological wheel, whith spokes Of brilliant light radiating outward and joining the figures Of the Apostles 99 ”3‘:F”“““*‘”T"—'.fis * ' .. . -- H; :v _ .‘ 4 ' _ we ;." :‘fi A Figure 21.-~Daphni, Baptism of Christ. c. 1100 A.D. (Photo: Diez and Demus, Plate XI). 100 Diez (Photo: 1100 A.D. C. Figure 22.--Daphni, Transfiguration. and Demus, Fig. 91). 101 (Photo: D. A 0 0 1 1 m a“ a. we» J9 f. 000 .1 IF a y, .... t ee BD .0 n a 2 e .1 D Figure 23.--Daphni. 102 together as the rim of that wheel. Christ, himself, remains motion- less, though his form is given vitality and volume through the model- ling lines of his glistening robes. The holy men and Apostles, how- ever, are all quivering agitation, their poses, particularly those ’ of the Apostles, are awkward and tense. The flanking figures of Moses and Elias entreat Christ with anxious faces and outstretched hands; in the lower right corner, James raises his hand in defense against the radiance; in the center, John has fallen and covered his face; and at the left, Peter kneels precariously on the rocks which he leans forward toward Christ. The apostles, who were closest to the motion and mutability Of the physical universe at the moment Of transfiguration when Christ was most exhalted, reflect their humanity in their active poses and in the nervous action of their modelling lines, just as Christ's omnipotence is reflected in his tranquil, yet curiously dynamic, motionlessness. The west pediment at Olympia displayed a more agitated, ner- vous energy, but it was an energy which had been carefully choreo- graphed. The struggling of the Lapiths and Centaurs had the quality of balletic stage fighting, with actions carefully balanced to ensure the unity and fluidity of the total composition. As at Daphni, this rhythmic flow eddied around the god, who was himself without motion. Apollo was seen here as the center of power, accomplishing his will through the valiant struggles of humanity. The balance and fluidity Of this composition is accentuated by the modelling lines Of the drapery, which unites the figures in rhythmic linearity as they reveal their form. 103 The motion of narrative iconography was underlined by the rich color found in this zone. The Middle Byzantine mosaicist could not and did not restrict the colors of the Christological cycle to the celestial gold, white, and blue, but expanded his palette to include bright reds, greens, yellows, warm browns, and rich, cool violetss3L- colors which painted the vibrant earth in all its splendor. Such a preference for brilliant color was shared by the sculptors Of the fifth century B.C., who adorned their images in an array of intense, often arbitrary, colors.54 Though it is certain that the specific colors given tO the garments of saints were governed by iconographical rules,55 it is possible that the very intensity of these colors may have had significance as well. Plato had used the process of mixing 56 using unmixed color paints as an analogy for purity in his Philebus, to signify perfect purity, the degree of purity descending with the degree Of mixture. Though this theory of symbolic color intensity is highly speculative, it is interesting to note that Greek sculptors through the fifth century preferred pure color for their images as if in reference to a color tradition similar to Plato's allegory in the Philebus. The use of pure color seems to have come to an end in the late fifth or early fourth centuries, at a time when the traditional religion was also waning. During the Hellenistic period, when the power Of the traditional religion suffered further decay, sculpture became simply another medium through which to explore human realism, and color was reduced to an illusionistic device; mixed into subtle nuances which heightened the realistic effect of the sculpture. 104 Symbolic color intensity was certainly employed by the Byzantine mosaicists, who accordingly used dark, muddied colors on the region closest to the earth, the zone of Saints, which presented holy per- sonages in whom the spiritual and material principles struggled, as they do in all human beings. The Middle Byzantine period was a Renaissance--a renaissance of Hellenic aesthetic ideals, as they pertained to religious art, which had dissolved at the end of the fifth century B.C., had disssolved, perhaps, but had not been extinguished for the icons which had been created through the fifth century remained in place for centuries, servicing as models for the symbolic representation of divine presence, though actual production Of icons may have, by and large, ceased. The Byzantine iconic style, which began its development in the sixth centuries A.D. during the reign Of Justinian, finally burst into full bloom during the Middle Byzantine period, following the Iconoclastic controversy and proclaiming the victory of orthodoxy and the validity of icon veneration. The underlying unity Of the Greek iconic style as it was developed through the fifth century B.C. and again in the Middle Byzantine period, and as it was reinforced by its underlying theological and philosophical unity, serves as an eloquent affirmation Of the antiquity and integrity Of the Greek icon. FOOTNOTES-~CHAPTER V lOtto Demus, Byzantine Mosaic Decoration: Aspects of Monu- mental Art in Byzantium (London: Kegan, Paul, Trench, Trubner and COO, Ltd., 1947), pp. 3’ 14-290 2There are, of course, Objections which might be raised against this sort of comparison. One Objection might arise from the fact that it may not be just to compare works of art which are com- posed Of different media. However, I think that an exception can be made for a comparison of two different episodes in Classical Greek figurative art. In spite of the shift from sculpture to masaic as the favored medium Of Classical monumental art, magnificent scale and the utilization Of spacial and sylistic devices which create an impres- sion Of volume, combine in Middle Byzantine mosaic style to create the legitimate successor to figurative sculpture in Medieval Greece: see Otto Demua, Byzantine Mosaic Decoration: Agpects Of Monumental Art in Byzantine, pp. 13-14. Another Objection which might be raised concerns the choice Of subjects for such a comparison. The choice is made problematic due to the scarcity Of extant Greek cult images. Because of this sacrcity, it seems that the image which was most revered, and which therefore, received the best documentation, either through descriptions, copies or numismatics, would make the best sub- ject for comparison. The Zeus Of Phidias is one such image. 3Pindar, Fragment 57. The actual word which Pindar used was synonym for 4Tim. 28C. 5See above, Chapter II, pp. 3-8. 6Repub. 7.514-520. 7This belief was reflected in Byzantine art as well; see below Chapter V, p. 10. 8Dr. J. Zandee, The Terminology of Plotinus and of Some Gnostic Writings, Mainly the Fourth Treatise of the Jung Codex (Leiden: Neder- lands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut in het Nabije Oosten, 1961), p. 24. 9gp. 2.9.8. 1933. 5.1.2. 105 106 11Philippus V. Pistorius, Plotinus and Neoplatonism: An Introductory Study (Cambridge, England: Bowes and Bowes, 1952), p. 62. 123.3. 5.1.2. 13Rhys Carpenter, The Esthetic Basis Of Greek Art Of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1959). PP. 87-9. 14Brunilde S. Ridgway, The Archaic Style in Greek Sculpture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), p. 37. 15Carpenter, Esthetic Basis, p. 76. 16Quintillian, Instit. Orat. 12.10.9. 17Aldred Mallwitz and Wolfgang Schiering, Die Werkstatt des Pheidias in Olympia. Olympische Forschungon, Band V. Deutsches Archaologisches Institut (Berlin: Verlag Walter DeGruyter and Co., 1964), pp. 272-7. 18Pausanias, Description Of Greece, 5.11.1-2. 19Ludwig Drees, Olympia: Gods, Artists, Athletes (London: Pall Mall Press, 1968), p. 145. . 20Josef Liegle, Der Zeus des Phidias (Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1952), p. 221. 21 See below, Chapter V, pp. 9-10. 22Drees, Olyppia, p. 150. 23 Carpenter, Esthetic Basis, p. 62. 24Kirk and Raven, The Presocratic Philosophers, pp. 170-1: Aeschylus, Suppliants 96-103. 25Strabo, 534a; Dio Chrysostom, 12.26,69; Plutarch, Life of Aemilius Paulus, 28.2. 26Dio Chrysostom, 12. 63, 69, 70; Cicero, Orator, 2.8; Pliny, N.H., 34.18; Quintillian, Instit. Orat., 12.10.9. 27Phidias was admired by Plato for his "conservatism:" see above, Chapter II, pp. 6, 7. 28As on the Athenian Acropolis,where the ancient Athena Polias inhabited the Erechtheum and the Athena Parthenos the Parthenon. 107 29The Hellenistic temple of Diana of Ephesus was built to house the ancient archaic multi-breated cult image. 30Gervase Mathew, p. 122. For the lively interest Of the Middle Byzantines in Islamic decorative motifs, see pp. 128-129. 311bid., p. 109. 32Mathew, p. 113: Theophilus, Antapodosis 6.c.5. 33Dress, p. 159: Cedremus, Historia Comparativa 322 B-C. 34 Ibid., Hist. Comp. 348. 35Demus, Mosaic Decoration, pp. 14-29. 36Ibid., pp. 9, 13. 37Ibid., p. 9. 38This devise was already well developed by the Severe Classi- cal period: Carpenter, Greek Scuipture: A Critical Review (Chicago: The University Of Chicago Press, 1960), p. 139. 39 Carpenter, Esthetic Basis,‘p. 56. 40Demus, Mosaic Decoration, p. 37. 41See J. J. Bachofen, Versuch uber die Graberpymbolik der Alter, Vol. 4 Of Geaammelte Werke (Basel: Benno Schwabe and Co., 1954). 42 Demus, Mosaic Decoration, p. 90, n. 61. 43Arthur B. Cook, Zeus: A Study in Ancient Religion. 2 Vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1914), Vol. 1, pp. 25-62. 44Pausanias, 5.11.1.2. ASGervase Mathew, Byzantine Aesthetics, Icon Editions (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1971), p. 5. 46Vincent Scully, The Earth, The Temple, and the Gods: Greek Sacred Architecture, Revised Ed. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), pp. 1, 2. 47 Demus, Mosaic Decoration, p. 5. 481816., p. 20. 108 49Rosalie Baryanes, "The Iconography of the Koimesis: Its Sources and Early Development" (Master‘s Thesis, Michigan State University, 1977), p. 102. 50Robert Graves, The Greek Myths. 2 vols. (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, Ltd., 1960), Vol. 2, pp. 175-180. 51 Pausanias ’ 5 o 7 o 6-8 0 4 O 52Cyril Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire 312-1453. Sources and Documents Series (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1972), p. 170. 53Demus, Mosaic Decoration, p. 37. 54Carpenter, Esthetic Basis, pp. 65-7. 55See above, Chapter V, pp. 9-10, 16 n. 32. 5651a-53b. CONCLUSION The continuity which unites ancient Greek and Byzantine sacred art is Often hinted at, but rarely discussed. On the contrary, the developments Of a medium such as sculpture are generally considered in terms of a "progression" toward naturalism, which forces discussion of the medium in terms which Western thinkers are comfortable with, i.e., change and innovation. However, the strongest periods of ancient Greek sacred art--the Severe Classical and Classical periods of the fifth century B.C.--and the strongest period Of Byzantine art-- the Middle Byzantine period of the late ninth through late eleventh centuries A.D.--are characterized by the same respect for the arche- typical form and linear rhythm which most clearly expressed the inten- tion Of the work. Once this clarity had been achieved, there was little need for change, hence the conservatism Of Classical pagan and Christian Greek sacred art. Greek sacred art of the fifth century B.C. and the Middle Byzantine periods was unified by a common emphasis on rhythmic symmetry in application Of two and three dimensional media. Both epochs formulized their religious iconography and architecture to embody the tenets of their religions, and deviated from these forms only in the case Of small particulars; never enough to compromise the integrity of the archetype. Yet these two artistic epochs are often discussed as if they were mutually exclusive. Symmetry in line and form, a fundamental aesthetic convern Of both pagan and Christian 109 110 Greek, is ignored as a bond, with apperearance in Byzantine art often being attributed to oriental.1 The academic polarization of these two epochs is even more pronounced when the subject is narrowed to icons. Mention the word "icon," and one is immediately launched into a discussion of Byzantine art. Specific icons are studied for their stylistic vocabulary, or for the manner in which they embody aesthetic ideologies. They are also examined for their function; studies which delve into this aspect of icons Often have the apologetic flavor of treatises written by modern iconodules for the benefit of non-Hellenized Christians in an effort to curb a tendency on the part of the latter to confuse icons and idols. The iconic style of the two epochs could not be further isolated from one another, according to scholarly Opinion--except, Of course, for the usual bow to Apelles and Hellenistic chiaroscuro modelling techniques.2 The philosophical continuity which underlines the function of icons has also been neglected by scholars. With the exception of Gerhard Ladner's article, "The Image Concept,"3 and Edwyn Bevan's book, Holy Images, both of which explore the "theological roots Of icon veneration, the antiquity of the function Of icons and their relationship to the worshipper has been virtually ignored. Anthropo- morphio icons were of fundamental importance to pagan Greeks as well as Christian, for the perception Of the gods in human form was as natural to them as the transformation Of this perception into sculptures and paintings Of sublime, measured beauty. The ancient Greek belief in the a priori virture and value Of humanity, which gave rise to 111 their unique conception of a completely anthropomorphic pantheon, allowed them to present the gods in human form, indeed, for the Greeks the human form was the only form worthy of representing divin- ity. The stylistic vocabulary which an artist used to describe the diety in iconic form was all important, for it determined whether a I 1/ or not the image was true-- €ItUV--or false-- smeaAM' . Among ancient Greek philosophers, these two words, icon and idol, held profoundly different implications which they continued to hold for Byzantine theologians. The distinction between true and false images was particularly develOped by Western Greek dualists, such as Pythagoras Plato, and Plotinus,for whom knowledge of the perfect forms of the abstract universe was impossible without knowledge of the physical reflections of these forms. The philosophical base of Byzantine icon veneration had been formulated by these dualists philOSOphers centuries before, The Byzantines clung tenaciously to icon veneration, a tradition that reflected a distinctly Greek heritage. The desire to fuse the abstract and physical universes, rather than to view them as polarized Opposites was indigenous to the Greek spirit. The icon bound these universes together theologically, philosophically, and artistically, as it bound together the cultures Of ancient and Byzantine Greece. FOOTNOTES--CONCLUSION 1Ernest Diez and Otto Demus, Byzantine Mosaics in Greece: Daphni and Hosius Lucas (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1931), p. 79; Otto Demus, Byzantine Mosaic Decoration, pp. 43-44 0 2Demus, Byzantine Mosaic Decoration, pp. 43-44. 3Gerhard Ladner, "The Image Concept," Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Vol. 8 (1954): 3-34; Edwyn Bevan, Holy Image (London: George Allen & Unwin, Ltd., 1940), cf. 112 BIBLIOGRAPHY 113 BIBLIOGRAPHY Altheim, Fritz. A History of Roman Religion. Translated by Harold Mattingly. London: Metheun and Co., Ltd., 1938. Armstrong, A. H. Plotinus. London: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1953. Arnold, Edward Vernon. Roman Stoicism. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, Ltd., 1911. Ashmole, Bernard. Architect and Sculptor in Classical Greece. New York: New York University Press, 1972). Bachoffen, J. J. Versuch fiber die Graben symbolik der Alten. Vol. 4. Geaammelte Werke. Basel: Benno Schwabe and Co., 1954. Baryames, Rosalie. "The Iconography of the Koimesis: Its Sources and Early Development." Master's Thesis, Michigan State University, 1977. Bevan, Edwyn Robert. Holy Images. London: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1940). . Stoics and Skeptics. Cambridge, England: W. Heffer and Sons, Ltd., 1959. Carpenter, Rhys. The Esthetic Basis of Greek Art Of the Fifth and Fourth Centuries B.C. Revised edition. Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press, 1959. . Greek Sculpture: A Critical Review. Chicago: University Of Chicago, 1960. Cassirer, Ernst. "Eidos und Eidolon: Das Problem des SchOnen und der Kunst in Platons Dialogen." Vortrage der Bibliothek warburg 1922/23 (1924). Cavarnos, Constantine. Plato's Thgory Of Fine Art. Athens, Greece: "Astir" Publishing Co., 1973. Clement of Alexandria. The Writings Of Clement of Alexandria. Trans- lated by William Wilson. Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 1869. 114 115 Cook, Arthur Bernard. Zeus: A Study in Ancient Religion. 2 Vols. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1914. Cross, F. L., and Livingstone, E. A. eds. The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. 2nd ed. London: Oxford University Press, 1974. Demus, Otto. Byzantine Mosaic Decoration: Aspects of Monumental Art in Byzantium. London: Kegan Pual Trench Trubner and COO , Ltd. ’ 19470 Diez, Ernst,and Demus, Otto. Byzantine Mosaics in Greece: Hosios Lucas and Daphni. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1931). Drees, Ludwig. Olympia: Gods, Artists and Athletes. London: Paul Mall Press, 1968. Farnell, Lewis Richard. The Cults Of the Greek States. 4 Vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1896. Festugiere, Andre-Jean. Personal Religion among the Greeks. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1954. Graves, Robert. The Greek Myths. 2 Vols. Rev. ed. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, Ltd., 1980. Havelock, Eric A. Preface to Plato. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press, 1963. Iamblicus. Life Of Pythogoras or Pythagoream Life. Accompanied by fragments of the Ethical Writings of certain Pythagoreans. Translated by Thomas Taylor. 2nd reprint ed. from Edition of 1818. London: Haylock Press, Ltd., 1965. Jones, C. P. The Roman World Of Dio Chrysostom. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1978. Journal of Hellenic Studies. 75 (1955) Supplement 21. Kirk, G. S., and Raven, J. E. The Presocratic Philosophers: A Critical History with a Selection of Texts. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1957. Krautheimer, Richard. Early Christian and Byzantine Architecture. Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, Ltd., 1965). Ladner, Gerhard. "The Image Concept." Dumbarton Oaks Papers, V01. 8, 1954’ pp. 3-340 116 Liddell, Henry G., and Scott, Robert. Greek-Epgiish Lexicon. New edition. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1966. Liegle, Josef. Der Zeus des Phidias. Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlags- buchhandlung, 1952). Lucian. Translated by A. M. Harmon. 8 Vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1969. Mallwitz, Alfred, and Schiering, WOlfgang. Die Werkstatt des Pheidias in Olympia. Band V, Olympishche Forschungen, Deutsches Archaologisches Institut. Berlin: Verlag Walter De Gruyter and Co., 1964. Mango, Cyril. The Art Of the Byzantine Empire 312—1453. Sources and Documents Series. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1972. Mathew, Gervase. Byzantine Aesthetics. New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1971. Maximum Tyrius. The Dissertations Of Maximus Tyrius. Translated by Thomas Taylor. 2 Vols. London: C. Whittingham, 1804. McEvedy, Colin. The Penguin Atlas of Medieval History. Harmondsworth England: Penguin Books, 1961. Nilsson, Martin Persson. Greek Pietyl Translated by Herbert Jennings Rose. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948. Onians, John. Art and Thought in the Hellenistichge: The Greek World View 350-50 B.C. London: Thames and Hudson, Ltd., 1979. Otto, walter Friedrich. The Homeric Gods: The Spiritual Significance of Greek Religion. Translated by Moses Hadas. New York: Pantheon Books, 1954. - Ouspensky, Leonid, and Lossky, Vladimir. The Meaning of Icons. Translated by G. E. H. Palmer and E. Kodlowbousky. Basle: Otto Walter Ltd., 1952. The Oxford Classical Dictionary. Edited by M. Cary and Others with the assistance Of H. J. Rose, H. P. Harvey, and A. Souter. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1949. Pausanias. Description of Greece. 6 vols. English translation by W. H. S. Jones and H. A. Ormerod. Loeb Classical Library New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1926. 117 Payne, Humfry. Perachora. the Sanctuaries of Hera Akria and Limenia, Excavations Of the British School of Archaeology at Athens 1930-33. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1940. Pelikan, Jaroslav. The Spriit Of Eastern Christendom: 600-1700. Vol. 2 Of The Christian Tradition: A History Of the Development of Dogtrine. 5 Vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1974. Philostratus, Imagines and Callistratus, Descriptions. Translated by Arthur Fairbanks Loeb Classical Library. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1931. Pistorius, Philippus Villiers. Plotinus and Neoplatonism: An Introductory Stugy. Cambridge, England: Bowes and Bowes, 1952. Plato: The Collected Dialogues, including:the Letters. Edited by Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns. Bollingen Series LXXI. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1961. Plotinus. Translated by A. H. Armstrong. 6 Vols. Loeb Classical Library. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1966. Plutarch's Lives. Dryden Edition revised with an Introduction by Arthur Hugh Clough. Everyman library. New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., Inc., 1961. ‘ The Princeton Encyclopedia Of Classical Sites. Edited by Richard Stillwell and William L. MacDonald. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1976. Pseudo-Dionysis the Aereopagite. On the Divine Names and the Mystical Theology. Translated by C. E. Rolt. New York: The MacMillan COO. 1940. Quintillian. Institutio Oratoria. Translated by H. E. Butler. 4 vols. Loeb Classical library. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1936. Richter, Gisela M. A Handbook of Greek Art: A Survey Of the Visual Arts Of Ancient Greece. 7th edition. New York: Phaidon Books, 1974. Ridgway, Brunilde S. The Archaic Style in Greek Sculpture. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1977. . The Severe Style in Greek Sculpture. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1970. 118 Rist, John, ed. The Stoics. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1978. Scully, Vincent. The Earth, the Temple, and the Gods: Greek Sacred Architecture. Revised edition. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979. Starr, Chester. Civilization and the Caesars: The Intellectual Revolution in the Roman Empire. New York: W. W. Norton and Co., Inc., 1965). . A History of the Ancient WOrld. 2nd edition. New York: Oxford University Press, 1974. Waldstein, Charles. Essays¢x1the Art Of Pheidios. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1885. Willms, Hans. 'Eikwv; Eine begriffsgeschichte untersuchupg zum Platonismus. Munster: Verlag der Aschendorffschen Verlags- buchhandlung, 1935. Zandee, J. The Terminology of Plotinus and Some Gnostics Writingg, Mainly the Fourth Treatise of Jung Codex. Leiden: Nederlands Historische-Archaeologisch Instituut in het Nabije Oosten, 1961. "o 3 9 2 1 3