An Iconic Way of Seeing
Throughout my younger years of Catholic education, there was always the warning against the worshiping of idols. For in the first of the Ten Commandments, God states, “I am the Lord your God, you shall have no other gods before me”. Because of this engrained understanding I’ve been constantly reminded of growing up, I must admit that the concept of an icon was at first hard to grasp, especially in its importance to worship. How could something be worshiped without falling into the trap of an idol? However, I’ve come to recognize that there is a clear difference. An idol arises when the “viewer watches for the sake and pleasure of seeing” and seeks to “satisfy the metaphysical principle: to be is to be preceived” (Marion 51). An icon, on the other hand, has a much greater purpose than simply to be perceived, for through our gaze on these icons we allow God to offer a return gaze. Icons are “not to be seen, but to be venerated” (Marion 59). Although even non-believers are able to recognize spiritual presence in a work of art, it is only through true veneration and worship, with intentionality of approach, that we can experience the reality of “a gaze crossing a gaze” (Marion 59). Pure veneration allows a mere image to become an icon, and thus brings us into an intimate gazing with Christ, who reveals previously invisible elements of the image to the worshiping viewer.
Liturgical worship is the ultimate gateway through which humanity is made able to engage with images as icons. For it is only through the liturgy that “believers are simultaneously outside and inside of time: while they seek the testimony of the past and a hope for the future, in reality they walk in the present” (Verdon 125). The transcendence of time that liturgical worship brings, the ability to be in the past, present, and future, is the only true way to dwell on an image as an icon. For it is through this transcendence that Christ is able to return our gaze. Marion explains this ‘gaze upon a gaze’ through our Catholic understanding of Christ being “an icon of the invisible God” (Marion 57). In the same way that we feel God’s gaze and attention through Christ, we too can through icons.
To grasp this gaze, and ultimately see an image in an iconic way, it is important to pay attention to particularities. To do so, we must allow ourselves to enter into spiritual contemplation and ultimately “participate in this mystery of salvation” (O’Malley lecture). It is in doing so that God reveals much to us. Altarpieces are a great place to start implementing this new understanding of sight.
The Madonna altarpieces are quite aesthetically beautiful, depicting the Virgin Mary and baby Christ, but when viewed through the iconic eye, so much more is unveiled. First lets look at Jane van Eyck’s Lucca Madonna, the Lactating Virgin. Through the naked eye, we can discern that the image depicts Mary feeding the infant child, whom is sitting on her lap. But using the iconic eye, we notice the intentionality of various details; Mary looking with devotional wonder unto the child, her seemingly awkward handing of her breast to the abnormally large infant, the infant holding an apple, the water to her right, the red of her gown, the intricate throne she is seated on. All of these things invite us to contemplate what Christ is trying to reveal to us. All of these details invite us to recall the “physical presence of Christ” and the extent to which he “took up the fullness of the human condition” (O’Malley Lecture). Williamson argues that many of these details depict that “the lap of the Virgin is presented both as a Throne of Wisdom and as the alter of Christ” (Williamson 352). The red of the dress serves to represent the pouring out of Christ’s blood on the alter, and the water on Mary’s right is symbolic of the purification at hand. All of these revelations are missed if one encounters the image solely for its material aesthetic, but become evident when appreciated with active veneration.
This same idea of hermeneutics can be exhibited in the iconic interpretations of the Florentine frescoes. These are wall murals that become integral to the space in which they reside. Reddaway introduces to us the concept of “figural exegesis, which involves “making connections between things that may not have evident, natural or logical connection but which are imaginatively, creatively, and poetically, rather than mechanically, linked” (Reddaway 117). In more simple terms, iconic seeing allows us to interpret the art in a way that may not be directly communicated, but that arises from subtle strange things in an image that draw us in to contemplate further. One of the biggest examples he mentions is the evident “dissemblance” in many of the Florentine frescos. For example, lets look at the “Noli me Tangre” fresco from cell 1. The naked eye discerns an image of two people in a garden, seemingly unkept. This unkept nature of the garden is the first depiction of dissemblance. Looking further, we come to notice the dissemblage of the figure on the left, who appears to be levitating rather than standing firmly on the ground. It is particularities such as these that invite us into a deeper contemplation. We begin to notice the space between the two figures and feel a sense of invitation to join in, almost a speaking to us through the image. This is the power of iconic seeing. We are opened to Christ seeing us through the icon, and us seeing him as well. One other noteable detail that arises in the iconic viewing of the piece are the small red buds coming off of the unkept bushes. These apparent flowers growing in such an unkept can be exegated as representing Christ’s shedding of blood for the sake of saving us unworthy sinners. Dissemblance, akin to this type, is used “to open up the image to contemplation and exegesis by disturbing the viewer” (Reddaway 120). It is in this way that Christ speaks to us and invites us into the contemplation of the icon as a means of revelation.
Just as this iconic approach to viewing the frescoes and the Madonnas proved powerful, so too does the Ghent Altarpiece become much more communicative. The most striking aspect of this piece in my opinion is the 3 ultimately different works that emerge from the single piece: that when it is closed, the opened upper half, and the opened lower half. Because of the intricacy and broad range of this work, I’d like to focus on the one part in order to make my point most clear. The opened top will be my focus. The top half of the altarpiece depicts a group of people surrounding one central being, presumably Christ. We know this because of the “deesis motif” in which “Christ is represented in the central panel” and is “always accompanied by Mary at His right and St.John the Baptist on His left” (Peeters 93). This historical understanding helps us to understand who exactly is being depicted. The particularities of what each of these individuals is wearing and/or doing also invites us into the contemplative iconic way of seeing. Why is St. John the Baptist pointing to Christ with his right hand, while reading and pointing to a word with his left? What is to be revealed by this? This is where the power of the icon lie: the visual allows you into contemplation of the invisible reality, in order to allow ones spiritual senses to dive deeper and ultimately be renewed and reformed. Also notable is the juxtaposition of Mary and St. John next to statues of Adam and Eve. An iconic view of the painting could presume that this juxtaposition serves to remind us that they are “The pair whose sin made the redemption of Christ necessary”. The seemingly unending particularities and details of this work leave boundless potential for Christ to reveal himself to us, and to allow us to catch his gaze.
The iconic nature of all of these pieces arises from the intentional approach of the viewer, as well as the works ability to point towards a presence which transcends the visual image, namely the presence of Christ. We must remember, however that “the invisible — of the thing, of the gaze, and of the ‘invisible God’ — thus requires that we take a new plunge” (Marion 58). The icon cannot truly BE an icon without our willing and active participation in its contemplation.
