I am intrigued by our discussions about our efforts to reveal a truth behind the image or the idol. What lies beneath the referent is actually an infinite regress of referents. We could never comprehend the absolute essence, if it even exists, without the aid of referents and images to guide our knowledge. In mathematics, how could we ever presume to understand a complex equation without the digits and symbols used to map out the problem visually? This seems just a bit bleak, but also strangely comforting. We are all naïve together and are maybe less naïve if we recognize our own naivety? I have been thinking about Ofili’s Holy Virgin Mary. The viewer is forced to try to reconcile her own reactions to the piece. She must ask- who is offended? The Holy Virgin Mary? Or my own sensibilities? In this way, I am still thinking about the icon as some sort of a mirror- a guide for knowledge, about the transcendental yes- but about more than that. It is a mirror onto our own state of being and knowing. In another class- Religion and Society with Angei Heo, we read “A Season in Mecca” by anthropologist Abdellah Hammoudi- Hammoudi revisits his Muslim roots by leaving his secular world- Princeton University- and goes on the Hajj, the Muslim pilgrimage. He talks of his experience stoning the pillar in Mina. On the Hajj, the pilgrims must stone this pillar “as if” they are stoning Satan. Hammoudi contemplates what it means to act “as if.” As the pilgrims act symbolically, they are fully aware of the symbolism utilized. They experience a very specific divine state of mind in this way. “All our efforts were to bring us closer to them and yet reaffirm the irreducible difference.” “The model was unattainable, then, moving away form us as we moved toward it.” (230) It is the irreducible difference that is important and is fully present in an encounter with any image. The inadequacy of the symbol upholds the divine. We contemplate the fact that the divine is not able to be represented, not truly comprehensible. We are, of course, reminded of the transcendental in the grounded material. When we encounter an image, then, we are indeed encountering the divine because we are encountering our own cognition of the divine. We are forced to reckon with the fact that it is just an image. That nothing is or could ever be the absolute essence.
It was mentioned in class yesterday that based on the Latour readings science is just another layer in the onion, similar to religion and to a lesser extent art. I disagree with this reading. I would argue that science (and to a lesser extent religion and art) is not so much a worldview as a means to a worldview. Each individual hypothesis in science can be seen as a layer of the onion, a ‘freeze frame’ in the process of cascading images, but I want to argue that the scientific method itself is not. Science, in its purest form, is a paradigm that advocates a type ‘B’ iconoclasm, not any particular image. Indeed, Latour says as much on page 34 – “A scientific image, even more than a Christian religious one, is a SET OF INSTRUCTIONS TO REACH ANOTHER ONE down the line.” Science is constantly overturning its own images, replacing them with ever more images as it attempts to reach the sacred core – a ‘theory of everything;’ a completely material and natural explanation of everything around us, knowing full well that it cannot reach that ultimate sacred core. This striving for the unobtainable is a form of double consciousness within science and indeed within all iconoclasm. It is a belief that the process of trying to reach the core will better humanity, although in the background of it all there is the utter futility of the quest itself. Perhaps part of the futility of this quest comes from a lack of specificity about what to expect at the sacred core. In class the core was described as ‘unmediated truth’ but once we add that we are going to use ‘science’ to uncover it there is already a layer covering the core that we cannot penetrate, namely, the layer that specifies that ‘unmediated truth’ is a NATURAL phenomenon with no objective causal elements. Science operates under the assumption that the universe consists of consistency that can be measured and from which further information can be extrapolated. Thus the sacred core to which science strives is not ‘unmediated truth’ (although that is what we like to think) but rather ‘NATURE’. Religion experiences a similar problem. However much it may try to achieve ‘unmediated truth,’ religion is looking for an ultimate SUPERNATURAL explanation of the world, with an objective cause (ie ‘divine plan’). In this sense, religion and science are moving through completely different layers of the onion, or, perhaps, completely different onions.
I found Latours' article to be extremely interesting; the idea that images can be in a double bind fascinating. When images are created people won't take the credit for making them because it is believed that god or some deity made the image. If people are given credit for its creation then the image completely loses all of its value. "Either God is doing everything and humans are doing nothing, or the humans are doing all the work and God is doing nothing. Too much or too little when the fetishes are gone" (23). Furthermore, what also makes this double bind interesting is the fact that when images are being defaced or destroyed, they are hoping that it will be forgotten or lose all of its worth. Ironically, without even trying, this destruction actually creates a new idol within the image. "No matter how adamant one is about breaking fetishes and forbidding oneself image-worship, temples will be built, sacrifices will be made, instruments will be deployed, scriptures will be carefully written down, manuscripts will be copied...and thousands of gestures will have to be invented for recollecting truth, objectivity, and sanctity" (24). When the images are destroyed all of the materials tend to be used to create a brand new image.
As Latour points out, those who destroy religious idols assume that the idolaters who they are ‘freeing’ have a naïve belief in the power of their idols, thus “naively believ[ing] in naïve belief” themselves. Further, in regards to science, he explains that scientific images are mediators in the same way that religious icons can be and that science “deserves better than naïve worship and naïve contempt” (35). What Latour is implying here, I believe, is that science, like religion, has its own elements of ‘naïve’ belief, particularly for non-scientists. In other words, though I have never seen Saturn or a proton myself I believe that they are there simply because those who I consider authorities on science (astronomers, physicists etc) have. The same is true of religion. Based on this, I disagree slightly with Jeff in that, yes science could be its own onion, but it is also a layer of the onion – science and religion are both worldviews and both use images as mediators to get to some kind of truth about the world. Both experience iconoclash, some adherents to both sets of beliefs seek to discredit and destroy the images of the other, both are sets of “instructions to reach another [image] down the line”, both are working towards a truth that cannot be depicted without some type of mediation etc (34). Maybe it is not so much that science and religion are part of the same onion but more like two separate ones with the same goal. Thus, it is easy to see what Latour would include both types of images in this exhibition.
Latour's discussion of the human hand in art seems essential to his definition of iconoclash. Being not particularly inclined to believe that, say, images of the Virgin Mary can fall from heaven, I have to wonder at the instances of images being supposedly not made by any human hand. Since I am assuming that they were, I wonder what was going through the mind of the person who was making an image that was later claimed to be "acheiropoiete". Did he or she, too, believe that the image came from a supernatural source and somehow suppressed the memory of making it? Or was he working under the assumption that he was divinely inspired and not in control of his actions while creating the image, or did he see himself as simply "playing along" with a game of pretending that the image was not manmade? These artists must be at the center of "iconoclash" as Latour describes it, not being able to decide what role they themselves played in the making of the idol, and singlehandedly having the power to expose the truth and debunk the idol's power. Or they must be engaging in an extreme form of double consciousness, simultaneously engaging in an action and not believing themselves to be engaging in an action.
An interesting aspect of Taussig's article was the power in defacing, that taking OFF the mask/its reveal gave it power. To me, that was similar to Latour's discussion of contemporary art with iconoclash. In other examples of icons, the makers were extremely careful to remove any signs of human hand in the idol, but contemporary art embraces the artist as image maker and the fact that "paintings, installations, happenings, events, and museums are human-made" (22). Artists intentionally create iconoclasm to get out a message or to start a discourse in a particular topic (or for money-making and recognition purposes, but we'll skip that discussion for now). As we discussed in class, artists surely MUST know that their work will start an iconoclash frenzy when naming their pieces titles such as "Holy Virgin Mary with Dung" and "Piss Christ." If they didn't want the controversy and discussion, they would name the pieces something else, something more hidden. Are artists mocking the viewer? When they tell us they meant the image in reverence, not iconoclasm, are they testing us? Is the image of Pope John-Paul II Struck by a Meteorite really a symbolic statement of the hardships the Pope endures? Because contemporary art is so accessible today through posters, television, internet, etc., it is the perfect arena for iconoclasm. As Latour states, "The more art has become a synonym for the destruction of art, the more art has been produced, evaluated, talked about, bought and sold, and yes, worshipped" (22).
When reading the Taussig, I found the end of the article to be the most profound and interesting, especially in its treatment of identity and the power of representation, which are often times related to idols and objects. The response to whether Marcos is gay is, "Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, an Asian in Europe, a Chicano in San Ysidro, an anarchist in Spain, a gang member in Spain, a Palestinian in Israel ..." (240), and so on. This just reminded me of the politics in identities and their representation and use that can be manipulated to fit a certain situation. Idols are frequently used in order to fit certain situations and establish power relations, or, as highlighted in Taussig's article, as a means of conflict or opposition in a certain setting, which can become an idol or icon in a sense, therefore leading to an awkward confusion that reminded me of Latour's iconoclash.
It seems like, with these two articles, we're narrowing in on the idea of the “always beyond” (as Taussig calls it), but that there is still room to imagine exactly how this is conceived. Latour, for instance, articulates the cascading images that follow any image--”there is no prototype to be looked at,” he argues, only more images. That is, the image is a representation of the concept of representation as an infinite regress defined not by an end point but by its own proliferations. It may visually reference another thing, but that too is only another sign as much as it is the signified.
So Latour makes this argument, which also resonates with Taussig's discussion and with the internality in Gell. And from that it seems to follow that there is this understanding of the eternal impossibility of the representation across human cultures; it is a mistake to naively assume the naivete of the idolater because the isolator uses the material as a mediation for the impossibility distant spiritual world—not as some kind of crass substitute. And yet there is a tension regarding the role of the material in representing the divine; it is not, in fact, a universal understanding that the image is inescapable. Sometimes, it seems, this tension, which contributes to the ambiguity of the iconoclash, is within an individual; but sometimes it is a more collective encounter, in which some are in fact naïve (even if those are the A people, the freedom-fighters) and others are more enlightened as to the reality of these images.
Anyway, I guess I mean that I'm becoming pretty well convinced that these issues of mediation and the internal spirit and so on are all facets of some kind of fundamental concern with reaching a core or origin or whatever kind of far off center, but it's not as if that has always been clear to me. So even if this is some kind of necessary human concern, not every instance of idol should illustrate the same degree or even just variety of understanding or resolution of this issue as, say, what Latour argues.
Something about Taussig's style makes this piece particularly difficult to follow at times. (Something akin to disjointed is the descriptor I seek.) But his point on the power lent in demasking (demystification) and subsequent remasking (refacement?) is well taken, though fuzzy until his account of Sup Marcos. Finally! was my reaction upon reaching this portion of the text. Finally, I get what he's saying here. Taussig certainly has a talent for the illustrative.
I appreciate Latour's piece for its elaboration on the iconoclast (though the taxonomy begs the question of whether such work should be done on the iconophile as well, whether this would be helpful in any way).
I like very much this idea of cascading images, of fixation presenting a problem. This strikes me as very Foucaultian (which you will find me a fan of at all times!), relating at one instance to his thoughts on sexuality (the History of Sexuality, more pointedly) and the importance of continual change (relating to his penchant for S&M, its exploration of "new" erogenous zones, of the endless possibilities for pleasure). Or we can also relate this to "Eye of Power", a conversation between Foucault, Perrot & Barou on Jeremy Bentham's Panopticon, where Foucault assert that is is quite alright for the prisoners to overthrow the guard tower as long as this isn't their end goal. Change is not enough if it only mimics the same dynamics it claims to overthrow (it does no good if the prisoners simply replace the guards as the same system will remain in place, one with guards and prisoners - a change in players does nothing to change the play). What is needed is a destruction of the structure itself. The argument goes beyond this, but for now, what's important is finding where this lines up with Latour, with a cascading of images. Fixation is problematic (freeze-frame), shifting desire (continually) is helpul, because doing so allows for generation as opposed to stagnation or, (somewhat) alternately, regeneration (reprocessing of old material, "the distortion of an already existing image" (Latour 36)).
This is great because herein he provides an option outside of the paradigm of an eventuated destruction for the sake of construction - the museum need not be burnt down and artistic practices abandoned for decades in order to generate 'new' thought, 'new' work. Just move on to the next image. Word. I can hang with that. (For the moment, at least!)
Also, this conceptualization of an undiscoverable 'truth' begs the non-existence of God, which is totally Nietzschean ('God is dead'), with which I'm as down with as one can possibly be. Hardly profound, though as yet left unannounced? Why?
Oh yes, because it doesn't matter whether He or It or whatever exists or not! Bien! To each her/is own!
I enjoyed how Latour explained iconoclash as an ambiguity between destroying and creating idols. I don't, however, quite understand, after all of his examples of iconoclash, how iconoclasm as a definitive term is possible. It seems as though any interaction with an idol could be at least slightly ambiguous. Perhaps this is a very skeptic view, but can we ever really know whether an idol is being destroyed, created or protected? I also liked reading about acheiropoiete. When considering this term one truly does need to use a double consciousness especially in the realm of science. I personally believe in science over any type of religion or spirituality precisely because it is natural and does not need the help of the "human hand." Latour made me think, however, how one can truly appreciate science without human interference. Without the work of scientists we would know nothing about how the natural world works. Thinking about this concept in terms of science definitely made it easier for me to appreciate the double bind felt by the truly devout and spiritual.
According to Latour, “Surely, these offer cold, unmediated, objective representations of the world and thus cannot trigger the same passion and frenzy as the religious pictures (Latour: 21).” However, does he mention that there must be a premise in order to differentiate science from religion? He assumes that science is different from religion because science is objective. But what is objective? In order to be objective for someone, someone must understand what it is and how it functions. Imagine there is a primitive who finds a computer in his cave. It generates images, sounds, and texts he does not understand…he may eventually worship it as a god. There must be numerous scientific ideas in our world which we do not fully understand. In order to make science objective and differentiate from religion, it is necessary for us to recognize science as human-made, not as myth or hallucination. Without this premise, his mention of “the more human-made images are generated, the more objectivity will be collected. (Latour: 21)” would have to change into “the more human-made images are generated, the more uncanniness will be collected.”
During and since the trip to the Met I have been thinking about Tausig's notion of faciality in relation to the Egyptian material, and to the statues of Hatshepsut in particular. The Egyptian anthropomorphic works are so highly stylized, the faces especially are often indistinguishable from one to the next, that viewed en mass they almost lose their anthropomorphic quality. In this way the faces are masking the divine (or human by obscuring individuality, or more literaly in the case of mummies) interiority in a more vivid fashion than I have observed in other statuary. Of course there are obvious windows in the stylized eyes/ears, but I think the strong presence of repetition (thinking of images of overlapping legs of soldiers and slaves)together with the repetition of similar faces puts an overall emphasis on masking and concealment. I am then thinking about the notion of infinite regress, from one referent to yet another, in relation to the statues of Hatshepsut and to the idea of self-representation. The statues are a referent to the person/king which as pharaoh are referents to a God. But in the case of Hatshepsut it is more interesting because masculinity is thrown into the mix both as a physical trait of the later statues, referring to a non-existant male, but also as an abstract concept, a referent of power. I think it is interesting that the word Pharaoh originally meant "great house" and was the term for a palace, later adopted to mean the king him/herself.
The question of motive for seems to be a theme through out the readings for this week. In class on Tuesday we discussed the image from Latour's article of the firefighters trying to save a work of art protected by glass. However, without knowing this the viewer could think they were trying to destroy it. Knowing the motive and context changes the image from one of inconoclasm to one of idolatry. The Strother article discusses shows two more examples where motive is important. Amadou wants to destroy a temple but figures out a way to passively allow nature to do it simply by plugging the gutters. Because we know he wanted the temple to be destroyed it makes this an act of iconoclasm. However, the latter example in the article is one where allowing nature to destroy idols is part of the religious ritual. Knowing the context in this case once again makes the destruction part of idolatry and not iconoclasm even though it involves destruction. These are all examples where we cannot know what the destruction means without the context and the motive surrounding it.
One thing I wondered in Taussig's discussion of removing the mask as a way of strengthening belief is whether it is the internal belief or the social order which is strengthened. Does a priest become more devout through induction into the mysteries, or become a cynical cog in the religious machine? Isn't it human nature to read more into the mysterious than the truth can ever live up to? Though the answer to this might be the idea of infinite regression, this supposes that the viewer never stops to say "Maybe there's no value in removing all these masks".
I found Latour's discussion of the types of iconoclasts very interesting, especially the "B" types, and the idea of the second commandment discouraging freeze-framed images. To some Greek philosophers, perfection meant lack of motion, because a changing thing could by definition never be prefect. The idea of regression seems to oppose this, with B figures such a Jesus keeping a constantly changing symbolic system. One thing I wonder is whether this speaks to a progressive worldview, or whether this places humanity on an endless treadmill of entropic images.
I also had a similar response as Jeff’s with regard to Latour’s essay on “iconoclash”—specifically, his restructuring of the traditional notions of science, and in a sense, ambiguously both destroying and creating what is the scientific image (an exemplar of his newly-defined iconoclashistic phenomenon). I cannot help but fanatically believe (yes, science is my religion) that science can be used as a tool to reach the “natural,” and this can be achieved through the scientific method (through equations and experiments producing replicable results). But, I’ve recently come to an epiphany; once some scientific concept or “freeze-frame” evidence of the possible inner onion of “naturalness” becomes an image, something de-structively, instead of con-structively, transforms the concept, situating the image one step further from the “natural.”
Let me try to clarify this. Latour uses the examples of “galaxies, atoms, light, [and] genes” (Latour 11) as scientific images that are presented, by the scientific community, as the world itself and not merely fabricated representations. How is the scientific image different from the religious or the artistic? It is exactly this rejection of representation that distinguishes the accurately scientific from the naïve, fanatically religious or the merely creative invention of the artistic. “In science, there is no such a thing as ‘mere representation.’” (Latour 11) If only that were the case.
Let me pick apart the example of a little model of an atom, or an image of some astronomical feature in space. Is an electron really, “naturally” green or blue or whatever colors the model artist chooses when he reproduces an atom in a form visible to the naked human eye? I think the key word here is the term “naked human eye.” Our sight can’t even begin to pick up what an atom structurally looks like, let alone what it’s colored (if it is even colored)—perhaps analogous to the impossibility of “truly” materializing the divine (the unseen) within a visible, tangible object. The model of an atom is really only a mathematical equation translated into an image. The translation becomes a bastard form of mediation, but due to the accurate, “natural” stigma standing behind science, when viewing the model of an atom, I can’t help but think this is what is floating all around me and comprising what I see of the “natural world.”
The image of the galaxy results in a very similar, implicit transformation; only this example deals more with wavelengths of light. I’ve got a poster sitting in my bedroom of the infamous image “The Pillars of Creation.” It consists of something known as an Eagle Nebula, a massive cluster of whizzing electrons and many elements I could not name off the top of my head (I guess you could call them “star baby food”), that serve as foundational catalysts for newly-developing stars. The image is colorfully sharpened with a bright green backdrop, the baby stars themselves poignantly visible due to a surrounding purplish neon hue, and the pillar-like nebula itself rising from the bottom in a hazy, brownish cloud that is reminiscent of a sand-storm or earthen debris that is thrown into the air after some explosive impact. Is this really what the Eagle Nebula looks like in space? No. Many of the light wavelengths the Hubble Telescope receives must be “translated” by NASA into what visible light we can see in order for these picturesque images to strongly display all that they do. Of course, we could go into the politics of why these images are made as colorful as they are, but that is a completely off-topic debate.
So, in an awkwardly abrupt conclusion, yes, science has helped us to understand and structure so much of our world, but even science can’t escape the contamination of the image. It appears literally impossible, even for the realm of science, to “freeze-frame” all that is within the physical world because of our own limits of sight. Darn. I feel like my little scientist idol has just been smashed. Oh well.
Comparing the two pieces (Latour and Taussig), a few thoughts came to mind. Taussig's article focuses on the idea of defacing leads to the immediate refacing of images. Either the act of defacing is a new image, or more images are produced (or both). Latour, on the other hand, speaks of the impossibility of getting to an unmediated truth, due to the cascade of images (there are infinite peels of the onion). There are a continuous line of images behind the first facade - a continuous refacing. For a refacing to occur, though, there must be a destruction. For there to be creation, iconoclash must occur; it's a cyclical process, with each acting on each other. Latour speaks on the conflicts of science and religion, and how they attempt to disprove each other, causing an endless iconoclash. What I found intriguing though, is the art vs. art iconoclash - an unknowing (or perhaps knowing) destruction of an image. When an artist produces, does not the finished product replace another? Is the replaced doomed to oblivion due to this replacement? However, without this iconoclash, there can never be a cascade of images and the world would be fraught with pre-Beethoven Leipzig (Latour 28). Production leads to destruction, knowing or unknowing. We must revel in the cascade of images, and thus, iconoclash, as Latour states.
I was glad to see that Latour discussed religious icons, scientific inscriptions and contemporary art and how each category relates to iconoclash. When we were at the Met I kept thinking about how different art made to be shown in a museum is from ancient artefacts that we now consider art, and then wondering if they actually were different or if it just seemed that they ought to be somehow. This made me appreciate Latour's discussion of how "Everything [in contemporary art] has been slowly experimented against and smashed to pieces" (Latour 22) just as religious icons are created and destroyed, both for being images and for not being good enough images. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the scientific images, though-- it seems to me that even if you need scientific instruments and training to see something, it is still that thing itself and not an image; if signifier and signified are conflated it is because they are one and the same. I suppose if one believes, for example, that the moon embodies a spirit then the moon could function as an idol, but it is clearly not made by humans and cannot be destroyed nor rebuilt by human hands. It means something different to each of us because we necessarily experience life subjectively, but this is not the same as a work of art created by humans to mean something. Maybe.
I find Latour’s “cascading of images” to be a very important and relevant point for anyone who lives in the modern world, and especially New York City. New Yorkers are constantly bombarded with images of all types, especially advertisements. All these images are representations of some other images or object; there is no way that they cannot reference another man-made image in some way. Although Latour focuses specifically on religious, scientific, and contemporary art images, I think that images from everyday advertisements would be an interesting addition to his examples, especially since one could argue that materialism in America is almost tantamount to a religion. Latour says, “a scientific image…is a set of instructions to reach another one down the line…the whole series has meaning, but none of its elements has any sense” (34). While Latour describes scientific images this way, I think that it also applies to images used in advertising. Often billboards and posters will use imagery to reference one idea or object that has been connected with the main object by American society. If the viewer does not know the original image or idea being referenced, the actual image before their eyes looses the meaning intended by the creator of the image. Strange and seemingly random connections are made in order to make viewers not only think of a certain object, but desire that object or idea. Labour’s focus in the last few pages of the text on “connecting images to images, playing with series of them, repeating them, reproducing them, distorting them slightly” (35) gets to the core of the power of images, and why the study of images is such a fascinating passage leading to the most intimate workings of the human mind. Advertisements in the city were the examples that leapt most readily to my mind while reading Latour’s text because of the uncertain feelings such images solicit: while they are usually degraded by viewers as annoying and intrusive, these images also succeed because our society is one of the most materialistic societies of all time. When advertising images force a viewer to recall other related images, the viewer is able to gather a wide-reaching message from the image at hand. One other fascinating point of Latour’s ideas is the sort of double consciousness people have about images made by human hands. Of course every image is made or influenced by humans, and everyone knows this, but Latour points out that people go to great lengths in order to cover the marks left by their hands, so to speak. However, it seems to me that often the way an image was created is not the initial reaction of the viewer to an image, instead it is a reaction to other aspects of the image. This is what makes a powerful image, one that can divert the attention of its viewer away from the marks of its creation to some other idea, the end goal the maker of the image had in mind.
I found Latour’s notion of the double bind really interesting to consider. “How could one not become a fanatic since gods, truths, and sanctity have to be made and there is no longer any legitimate way of making them?” (p23) Latour implies that man cannot help himself from making images, and when he does he has only two options (according to the 2nd commandment): to deny his agency in the creation of the image and attribute his work as the work of god and he as the agent of god, or to recognize it as “made by your own hands, in which case it is worthless” (23). Upon consideration of this double bind issue, I am wondering whether iconoclasm derives from the frustration caused here. If the only creative agency and attempt at reaching truth we are granted via the second commandment is the breakage of idols, then it seems that we are only legitimately able to achieve this through destruction. What if the cascade of images that we create are necessary as attempts at truth, so that we can realize their failure and then attempt again to reach truth via their destruction, creating a constant flow and neverending stream of images. I think Taussig’s concept of masking/unmasking is similar to this idea as well. He says, “It is a curious thing, this, that far from demystifying, demasking can heighten the masking power of the mask. This is mre than curious; it is the beginning of philosophy, of knowing, and of being, for demasking is a peculiar form of defacement, a soer of double or meta-defacement returning the face to its home in faciality—only to discover, but not accept, that once left, home changes (p 232). Masking and demasking derive meaning from eachother and function in a similar, constant, streaming way. -becky
Jeff explained the cascade of images in science as the pursuit of “nature” by means of measurable facts. This opinion is acknowledged in Latour’s introduction, that scientific images are “not even images, but the world itself” (11). I do not think discussions of “iconoclash” allow for an extreme separation of the pursuit of supernatural explanations of the world and the pursuit of natural explanations, or the separate onions that Jeff is suggesting. The human oscillation between idolatry and iconoclasm, and the central problem of the idol we have discussed in class is characterized by our desire to distinguish natural and supernatural yet our inability to do so. Also, I do not see how the pursuit of the natural, by science imagery, is not the pursuit of truth in its purest form. The signposts of science ultimately seek the facts of the natural world, suggesting the mystery of nature. My knowledge of science is not extensive, but the professors I have had in the sciences approach the mysteries of the universe, referring to its sacredness and impenetrability. The images created by science guide us towards this discovery. These images are human-made, and yet agreed upon by many as objective (Latour 11). Science has exists in series without a referent, according to Latour, yet can be grasped within the context of a series, even when invisible (36). In this way, I would argue that science and religion are working through the same onion, though they may offer distinct situations of iconoclash (10). One might be conceived as the pursuit of the supernatural and one as the pursuit of the natural, but ultimately they are engaged in the same processes of image making and destroying. They are characterized by distinct conclusions one is supposed to reach through them, yet the pursuit looks similar: a cascade of images.
In Latour’s Iconoclash, I was particularly interested in his comparison between science and religion. He posits that there is “no longer any legitimate way of making [gods and truths].” The cascade of scientific images has the same double-bind as religion: humans must either make the image, therefore delegitimizing it; or the image must be made by something greater than themselves. Science as well as religion are not intended to be built by humans. Religion and science are meant to be truths that impact how humans live their lives. For this reason, humans cannot be seen as the creators of images of religion or science. Humans should not create truth for other humans: how does one person know the truth that controls others? If scientific evidence for a theory is found to be “made” by a human, it becomes illegitimate. Yet at the same time, human intervention is necessary in order to make scientific discoveries, to create scientific images. This necessary invisibility on the part of human action within the “legitimate” creation of scientific and religious imagery is emblematic of the double bind Latour discusses.
Though, as Latour points out, in reality, scientific images, such as representations of galaxies, atoms, and genes, are “able to be so objectively true…because of so many mediations.” So here lies the difference between religion and science according to Latour. Images of gods are not objectively true with more mediation. In fact, images of gods are not intended to be objectively true in any sense. But I do wonder, why does the human have to be invisible? And also, scientists certainly do not think that the human hand is science delegitimizes the work. Who deems legitimacy for Latour? Why do they get that right?
Yesterday I connected the question of the face (specifically that of "Christ") to Taussig's plea "to raise the face--specifically the face as a fetish-crossing forever crossed, the ur-border zone, the mother of all borderlands. One does not look at the face... but is granted access to it as an ethical act" (225).
Taussig elaborates that "crossing back and forth across the face as mask and window to the soul is our necessary task and it is due to such 'disproportion' [of the two] that we discern the 'always beyond' that spills out from the fetish" (227). This paradoxical, bordered quality of the face generates in its beholder a sense that there is something more that cannot be reached, an "always beyond". This promotes the unresolvedness and agency within the fetish. Later, he explains facelessness, which is "not so much being without a face as it is a reorganization of faciality creating a new type of face" (240).
Through Taussig, we can see the image of Christ as a faceless face, a forever-reorganizing, forever-crossing, forever-defacing/refacing fetish. This becomes a springboard for what Latour is thinking about, the cascade of images: "the crucial distinction... [is] between the interrupted flow of pictures and a cascade of them" (32). To call the Christ image "the faceless face of 'god'" is to suggest mobility (through the crossing), but Latour is saying that there is more than one border or contradiction. There are, in fact, several disorderly relations. Clearly, Latour is not just thinking about disproportion.
Nonetheless, Taussig's paradox framework (the "public secret") is foundational for Latour to think about what iconoclash is and what iconoclash means. To at once understand and not understand an image (an image that is both a mask and a window to the soul) is included in iconoclash; "there is no way to know, without further enquiry, whether it is destructive or constructive" (16). If the image of Christ is a fetish-crossing forever crossed, then the viewer upon realizing the contradiction stumbles upon the flowing cascade.
Latour’s choice of using the shroud example to start off this article is highly compelling and really drew me in. His approach is clear and yet covers a broad range of questions and answers to the problem of iconoclash. He provides clear definitions for iconoclasm and iconoclash in a way I had never really thought of. Although he doesn’t mention it I think as he is exploring the truth in images and why they create so much passion he is dancing around an idea of perception which seems to make a huge difference in how we receive the different types of images. Of course how we perceive these images is something learned although personally I think there is some sort of universal cognitive process that all learning grapples with or highlights. I also like how he explores the hand behind the image and that sometimes it gives validity to the power of an image and sometimes makes it totally irrelevant. I think this comes from a sort of double consciousness about human agency that privileges us above all around us as such rational and creative creatures while at the same time acknowledges are massive inabilities when one looks at how nature works and was created (how little we can do in comparison to “god” or “nature”). I think that he develops a lot of binaries in the beginning of his comparison that exist in the world as double consciences and I think that how these binaries collide is part of what he is exploring as iconoclash and iconoclasm. I think the trifecta of pitting religion science and modern art against each other can be highly enlightening. We have religion and science often put against each other they each put a different importance on the hand of the creator, each seem to evoke different emotions and each are believed to come from a different sort of rationality and purpose. Then we have modern art where every new piece seems to be smashing the boundary between the two methods of thought; religious and scientific. Yet each piece seems to deal with a different example of iconoclash. When these three subjects are put together we see a 3d explanation of iconoclash as its own area of study.
On a more personal note these ideas of truth, power, creation, and destruction that follow images is I think highly important. Not just to art or archaeology or diplomacy but also just for ones own personal journey through life. In exploring these ideas we ask questions that seem to be about the image or society and in answering them we can learn a lot about the human condition. It isn't just about how we interact with images in a formal setting but how we interact with images and people and situations all around us. We can learn about perception and how subjective it is and yet objectively universal in importance. I really think that a lot of these works, and I have a particular fondness for Latour now, can be read philosophically and be highly enlightening on their own.
So I was trying to fall asleep and couldn't because I had to post this thought. How can we see Jesus, or more specifically the Holy Trinity, as having a huge connection to iconoclasm. Latour talks about the double bind in asserting ones humanly creation or asserting its divine power. What if Jesus faced this double bind but not in creation of an image but in creation of a religion, ideas, and doctrine. If he had said "Oh, Ive been musing on stuff lately and I think this is the way everyone should live and the morals everyone should live by, and I've created this whole story to make it clear to you all" he wouldn't have found half as many followers as he did. So did he say he was both the son of god and the mortal manifestation of god, as part of the holy trinity, in order to bring some sort of power and authority to his words? Granted he was persecuted anyways but he did start a religion that has become accepted worldwide and created some of the greatest events and movements the world has seen. It is curious what authority he developed and yet at the same time what doubt he faced because of his connection with this divine power. I am not saying that the Catholic faith is based on some guy dealing with an iconoclashlike situation but it is an interesting idea to think about nonetheless. I have to go to bed but there are so many questions to ask looking at this example I could write so much more.
24 comments:
I am intrigued by our discussions about our efforts to reveal a truth behind the image or the idol. What lies beneath the referent is actually an infinite regress of referents. We could never comprehend the absolute essence, if it even exists, without the aid of referents and images to guide our knowledge. In mathematics, how could we ever presume to understand a complex equation without the digits and symbols used to map out the problem visually?
This seems just a bit bleak, but also strangely comforting. We are all naïve together and are maybe less naïve if we recognize our own naivety?
I have been thinking about Ofili’s Holy Virgin Mary. The viewer is forced to try to reconcile her own reactions to the piece. She must ask- who is offended? The Holy Virgin Mary? Or my own sensibilities?
In this way, I am still thinking about the icon as some sort of a mirror- a guide for knowledge, about the transcendental yes- but about more than that. It is a mirror onto our own state of being and knowing.
In another class- Religion and Society with Angei Heo, we read “A Season in Mecca” by anthropologist Abdellah Hammoudi- Hammoudi revisits his Muslim roots by leaving his secular world- Princeton University- and goes on the Hajj, the Muslim pilgrimage.
He talks of his experience stoning the pillar in Mina. On the Hajj, the pilgrims must stone this pillar “as if” they are stoning Satan. Hammoudi contemplates what it means to act “as if.” As the pilgrims act symbolically, they are fully aware of the symbolism utilized. They experience a very specific divine state of mind in this way. “All our efforts were to bring us closer to them and yet reaffirm the irreducible difference.” “The model was unattainable, then, moving away form us as we moved toward it.” (230) It is the irreducible difference that is important and is fully present in an encounter with any image. The inadequacy of the symbol upholds the divine. We contemplate the fact that the divine is not able to be represented, not truly comprehensible. We are, of course, reminded of the transcendental in the grounded material.
When we encounter an image, then, we are indeed encountering the divine because we are encountering our own cognition of the divine. We are forced to reckon with the fact that it is just an image. That nothing is or could ever be the absolute essence.
It was mentioned in class yesterday that based on the Latour readings science is just another layer in the onion, similar to religion and to a lesser extent art. I disagree with this reading. I would argue that science (and to a lesser extent religion and art) is not so much a worldview as a means to a worldview. Each individual hypothesis in science can be seen as a layer of the onion, a ‘freeze frame’ in the process of cascading images, but I want to argue that the scientific method itself is not. Science, in its purest form, is a paradigm that advocates a type ‘B’ iconoclasm, not any particular image. Indeed, Latour says as much on page 34 – “A scientific image, even more than a Christian religious one, is a SET OF INSTRUCTIONS TO REACH ANOTHER ONE down the line.” Science is constantly overturning its own images, replacing them with ever more images as it attempts to reach the sacred core – a ‘theory of everything;’ a completely material and natural explanation of everything around us, knowing full well that it cannot reach that ultimate sacred core. This striving for the unobtainable is a form of double consciousness within science and indeed within all iconoclasm. It is a belief that the process of trying to reach the core will better humanity, although in the background of it all there is the utter futility of the quest itself.
Perhaps part of the futility of this quest comes from a lack of specificity about what to expect at the sacred core. In class the core was described as ‘unmediated truth’ but once we add that we are going to use ‘science’ to uncover it there is already a layer covering the core that we cannot penetrate, namely, the layer that specifies that ‘unmediated truth’ is a NATURAL phenomenon with no objective causal elements. Science operates under the assumption that the universe consists of consistency that can be measured and from which further information can be extrapolated. Thus the sacred core to which science strives is not ‘unmediated truth’ (although that is what we like to think) but rather ‘NATURE’. Religion experiences a similar problem. However much it may try to achieve ‘unmediated truth,’ religion is looking for an ultimate SUPERNATURAL explanation of the world, with an objective cause (ie ‘divine plan’). In this sense, religion and science are moving through completely different layers of the onion, or, perhaps, completely different onions.
I found Latours' article to be extremely interesting; the idea that images can be in a double bind fascinating. When images are created people won't take the credit for making them because it is believed that god or some deity made the image. If people are given credit for its creation then the image completely loses all of its value. "Either God is doing everything and humans are doing nothing, or the humans are doing all the work and God is doing nothing. Too much or too little when the fetishes are gone" (23). Furthermore, what also makes this double bind interesting is the fact that when images are being defaced or destroyed, they are hoping that it will be forgotten or lose all of its worth. Ironically, without even trying, this destruction actually creates a new idol within the image. "No matter how adamant one is about breaking fetishes and forbidding oneself image-worship, temples will be built, sacrifices will be made, instruments will be deployed, scriptures will be carefully written down, manuscripts will be copied...and thousands of gestures will have to be invented for recollecting truth, objectivity, and sanctity" (24). When the images are destroyed all of the materials tend to be used to create a brand new image.
As Latour points out, those who destroy religious idols assume that the idolaters who they are ‘freeing’ have a naïve belief in the power of their idols, thus “naively believ[ing] in naïve belief” themselves. Further, in regards to science, he explains that scientific images are mediators in the same way that religious icons can be and that science “deserves better than naïve worship and naïve contempt” (35). What Latour is implying here, I believe, is that science, like religion, has its own elements of ‘naïve’ belief, particularly for non-scientists. In other words, though I have never seen Saturn or a proton myself I believe that they are there simply because those who I consider authorities on science (astronomers, physicists etc) have. The same is true of religion. Based on this, I disagree slightly with Jeff in that, yes science could be its own onion, but it is also a layer of the onion – science and religion are both worldviews and both use images as mediators to get to some kind of truth about the world. Both experience iconoclash, some adherents to both sets of beliefs seek to discredit and destroy the images of the other, both are sets of “instructions to reach another [image] down the line”, both are working towards a truth that cannot be depicted without some type of mediation etc (34). Maybe it is not so much that science and religion are part of the same onion but more like two separate ones with the same goal. Thus, it is easy to see what Latour would include both types of images in this exhibition.
Latour's discussion of the human hand in art seems essential to his definition of iconoclash. Being not particularly inclined to believe that, say, images of the Virgin Mary can fall from heaven, I have to wonder at the instances of images being supposedly not made by any human hand. Since I am assuming that they were, I wonder what was going through the mind of the person who was making an image that was later claimed to be "acheiropoiete". Did he or she, too, believe that the image came from a supernatural source and somehow suppressed the memory of making it? Or was he working under the assumption that he was divinely inspired and not in control of his actions while creating the image, or did he see himself as simply "playing along" with a game of pretending that the image was not manmade? These artists must be at the center of "iconoclash" as Latour describes it, not being able to decide what role they themselves played in the making of the idol, and singlehandedly having the power to expose the truth and debunk the idol's power. Or they must be engaging in an extreme form of double consciousness, simultaneously engaging in an action and not believing themselves to be engaging in an action.
An interesting aspect of Taussig's article was the power in defacing, that taking OFF the mask/its reveal gave it power. To me, that was similar to Latour's discussion of contemporary art with iconoclash. In other examples of icons, the makers were extremely careful to remove any signs of human hand in the idol, but contemporary art embraces the artist as image maker and the fact that "paintings, installations, happenings, events, and museums are human-made" (22). Artists intentionally create iconoclasm to get out a message or to start a discourse in a particular topic (or for money-making and recognition purposes, but we'll skip that discussion for now). As we discussed in class, artists surely MUST know that their work will start an iconoclash frenzy when naming their pieces titles such as "Holy Virgin Mary with Dung" and "Piss Christ." If they didn't want the controversy and discussion, they would name the pieces something else, something more hidden. Are artists mocking the viewer? When they tell us they meant the image in reverence, not iconoclasm, are they testing us? Is the image of Pope John-Paul II Struck by a Meteorite really a symbolic statement of the hardships the Pope endures? Because contemporary art is so accessible today through posters, television, internet, etc., it is the perfect arena for iconoclasm. As Latour states, "The more art has become a synonym for the destruction of art, the more art has been produced, evaluated, talked about, bought and sold, and yes, worshipped" (22).
When reading the Taussig, I found the end of the article to be the most profound and interesting, especially in its treatment of identity and the power of representation, which are often times related to idols and objects. The response to whether Marcos is gay is, "Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, an Asian in Europe, a Chicano in San Ysidro, an anarchist in Spain, a gang member in Spain, a Palestinian in Israel ..." (240), and so on. This just reminded me of the politics in identities and their representation and use that can be manipulated to fit a certain situation. Idols are frequently used in order to fit certain situations and establish power relations, or, as highlighted in Taussig's article, as a means of conflict or opposition in a certain setting, which can become an idol or icon in a sense, therefore leading to an awkward confusion that reminded me of Latour's iconoclash.
It seems like, with these two articles, we're narrowing in on the idea of the “always beyond” (as Taussig calls it), but that there is still room to imagine exactly how this is conceived. Latour, for instance, articulates the cascading images that follow any image--”there is no prototype to be looked at,” he argues, only more images. That is, the image is a representation of the concept of representation as an infinite regress defined not by an end point but by its own proliferations. It may visually reference another thing, but that too is only another sign as much as it is the signified.
So Latour makes this argument, which also resonates with Taussig's discussion and with the internality in Gell. And from that it seems to follow that there is this understanding of the eternal impossibility of the representation across human cultures; it is a mistake to naively assume the naivete of the idolater because the isolator uses the material as a mediation for the impossibility distant spiritual world—not as some kind of crass substitute. And yet there is a tension regarding the role of the material in representing the divine; it is not, in fact, a universal understanding that the image is inescapable. Sometimes, it seems, this tension, which contributes to the ambiguity of the iconoclash, is within an individual; but sometimes it is a more collective encounter, in which some are in fact naïve (even if those are the A people, the freedom-fighters) and others are more enlightened as to the reality of these images.
Anyway, I guess I mean that I'm becoming pretty well convinced that these issues of mediation and the internal spirit and so on are all facets of some kind of fundamental concern with reaching a core or origin or whatever kind of far off center, but it's not as if that has always been clear to me. So even if this is some kind of necessary human concern, not every instance of idol should illustrate the same degree or even just variety of understanding or resolution of this issue as, say, what Latour argues.
Something about Taussig's style makes this piece particularly difficult to follow at times. (Something akin to disjointed is the descriptor I seek.) But his point on the power lent in demasking (demystification) and subsequent remasking (refacement?) is well taken, though fuzzy until his account of Sup Marcos. Finally! was my reaction upon reaching this portion of the text. Finally, I get what he's saying here. Taussig certainly has a talent for the illustrative.
I appreciate Latour's piece for its elaboration on the iconoclast (though the taxonomy begs the question of whether such work should be done on the iconophile as well, whether this would be helpful in any way).
I like very much this idea of cascading images, of fixation presenting a problem. This strikes me as very Foucaultian (which you will find me a fan of at all times!), relating at one instance to his thoughts on sexuality (the History of Sexuality, more pointedly) and the importance of continual change (relating to his penchant for S&M, its exploration of "new" erogenous zones, of the endless possibilities for pleasure). Or we can also relate this to "Eye of Power", a conversation between Foucault, Perrot & Barou on Jeremy Bentham's Panopticon, where Foucault assert that is is quite alright for the prisoners to overthrow the guard tower as long as this isn't their end goal. Change is not enough if it only mimics the same dynamics it claims to overthrow (it does no good if the prisoners simply replace the guards as the same system will remain in place, one with guards and prisoners - a change in players does nothing to change the play). What is needed is a destruction of the structure itself. The argument goes beyond this, but for now, what's important is finding where this lines up with Latour, with a cascading of images. Fixation is problematic (freeze-frame), shifting desire (continually) is helpul, because doing so allows for generation as opposed to stagnation or, (somewhat) alternately, regeneration (reprocessing of old material, "the distortion of an already existing image" (Latour 36)).
This is great because herein he provides an option outside of the paradigm of an eventuated destruction for the sake of construction - the museum need not be burnt down and artistic practices abandoned for decades in order to generate 'new' thought, 'new' work. Just move on to the next image. Word. I can hang with that. (For the moment, at least!)
Also, this conceptualization of an undiscoverable 'truth' begs the non-existence of God, which is totally Nietzschean ('God is dead'), with which I'm as down with as one can possibly be. Hardly profound, though as yet left unannounced? Why?
Oh yes, because it doesn't matter whether He or It or whatever exists or not! Bien! To each her/is own!
I enjoyed how Latour explained iconoclash as an ambiguity between destroying and creating idols. I don't, however, quite understand, after all of his examples of iconoclash, how iconoclasm as a definitive term is possible. It seems as though any interaction with an idol could be at least slightly ambiguous. Perhaps this is a very skeptic view, but can we ever really know whether an idol is being destroyed, created or protected?
I also liked reading about acheiropoiete. When considering this term one truly does need to use a double consciousness especially in the realm of science. I personally believe in science over any type of religion or spirituality precisely because it is natural and does not need the help of the "human hand." Latour made me think, however, how one can truly appreciate science without human interference. Without the work of scientists we would know nothing about how the natural world works. Thinking about this concept in terms of science definitely made it easier for me to appreciate the double bind felt by the truly devout and spiritual.
According to Latour, “Surely, these offer cold, unmediated, objective representations of the world and thus cannot trigger the same passion and frenzy as the religious pictures (Latour: 21).” However, does he mention that there must be a premise in order to differentiate science from religion? He assumes that science is different from religion because science is objective. But what is objective? In order to be objective for someone, someone must understand what it is and how it functions. Imagine there is a primitive who finds a computer in his cave. It generates images, sounds, and texts he does not understand…he may eventually worship it as a god. There must be numerous scientific ideas in our world which we do not fully understand. In order to make science objective and differentiate from religion, it is necessary for us to recognize science as human-made, not as myth or hallucination. Without this premise, his mention of “the more human-made images are generated, the more objectivity will be collected. (Latour: 21)” would have to change into “the more human-made images are generated, the more uncanniness will be collected.”
This from Sara R:
During and since the trip to the Met I have been thinking about Tausig's notion of faciality in relation to the Egyptian material, and to the statues of Hatshepsut in particular. The Egyptian anthropomorphic works are so highly stylized, the faces especially are often indistinguishable from one to the next, that viewed en mass they almost lose their anthropomorphic quality. In this way the faces are masking the divine (or human by obscuring individuality, or more literaly in the case of mummies) interiority in a more vivid fashion than I have observed in other statuary. Of course there are obvious windows in the stylized eyes/ears, but I think the strong presence of repetition (thinking of images of overlapping legs of soldiers and slaves)together with the repetition of similar faces puts an overall emphasis on masking and concealment.
I am then thinking about the notion of infinite regress, from one referent to yet another, in relation to the statues of Hatshepsut and to the idea of self-representation. The statues are a referent to the person/king which as pharaoh are referents to a God. But in the case of Hatshepsut it is more interesting because masculinity is thrown into the mix both as a physical trait of the later statues, referring to a non-existant male, but also as an abstract concept, a referent of power. I think it is interesting that the word Pharaoh originally meant "great house" and was the term for a palace, later adopted to mean the king him/herself.
The question of motive for seems to be a theme through out the readings for this week. In class on Tuesday we discussed the image from Latour's article of the firefighters trying to save a work of art protected by glass. However, without knowing this the viewer could think they were trying to destroy it. Knowing the motive and context changes the image from one of inconoclasm to one of idolatry. The Strother article discusses shows two more examples where motive is important. Amadou wants to destroy a temple but figures out a way to passively allow nature to do it simply by plugging the gutters. Because we know he wanted the temple to be destroyed it makes this an act of iconoclasm. However, the latter example in the article is one where allowing nature to destroy idols is part of the religious ritual. Knowing the context in this case once again makes the destruction part of idolatry and not iconoclasm even though it involves destruction. These are all examples where we cannot know what the destruction means without the context and the motive surrounding it.
One thing I wondered in Taussig's discussion of removing the mask as a way of strengthening belief is whether it is the internal belief or the social order which is strengthened. Does a priest become more devout through induction into the mysteries, or become a cynical cog in the religious machine? Isn't it human nature to read more into the mysterious than the truth can ever live up to? Though the answer to this might be the idea of infinite regression, this supposes that the viewer never stops to say "Maybe there's no value in removing all these masks".
I found Latour's discussion of the types of iconoclasts very interesting, especially the "B" types, and the idea of the second commandment discouraging freeze-framed images. To some Greek philosophers, perfection meant lack of motion, because a changing thing could by definition never be prefect. The idea of regression seems to oppose this, with B figures such a Jesus keeping a constantly changing symbolic system. One thing I wonder is whether this speaks to a progressive worldview, or whether this places humanity on an endless treadmill of entropic images.
I also had a similar response as Jeff’s with regard to Latour’s essay on “iconoclash”—specifically, his restructuring of the traditional notions of science, and in a sense, ambiguously both destroying and creating what is the scientific image (an exemplar of his newly-defined iconoclashistic phenomenon). I cannot help but fanatically believe (yes, science is my religion) that science can be used as a tool to reach the “natural,” and this can be achieved through the scientific method (through equations and experiments producing replicable results). But, I’ve recently come to an epiphany; once some scientific concept or “freeze-frame” evidence of the possible inner onion of “naturalness” becomes an image, something de-structively, instead of con-structively, transforms the concept, situating the image one step further from the “natural.”
Let me try to clarify this. Latour uses the examples of “galaxies, atoms, light, [and] genes” (Latour 11) as scientific images that are presented, by the scientific community, as the world itself and not merely fabricated representations. How is the scientific image different from the religious or the artistic? It is exactly this rejection of representation that distinguishes the accurately scientific from the naïve, fanatically religious or the merely creative invention of the artistic. “In science, there is no such a thing as ‘mere representation.’” (Latour 11) If only that were the case.
Let me pick apart the example of a little model of an atom, or an image of some astronomical feature in space. Is an electron really, “naturally” green or blue or whatever colors the model artist chooses when he reproduces an atom in a form visible to the naked human eye? I think the key word here is the term “naked human eye.” Our sight can’t even begin to pick up what an atom structurally looks like, let alone what it’s colored (if it is even colored)—perhaps analogous to the impossibility of “truly” materializing the divine (the unseen) within a visible, tangible object. The model of an atom is really only a mathematical equation translated into an image. The translation becomes a bastard form of mediation, but due to the accurate, “natural” stigma standing behind science, when viewing the model of an atom, I can’t help but think this is what is floating all around me and comprising what I see of the “natural world.”
The image of the galaxy results in a very similar, implicit transformation; only this example deals more with wavelengths of light. I’ve got a poster sitting in my bedroom of the infamous image “The Pillars of Creation.” It consists of something known as an Eagle Nebula, a massive cluster of whizzing electrons and many elements I could not name off the top of my head (I guess you could call them “star baby food”), that serve as foundational catalysts for newly-developing stars. The image is colorfully sharpened with a bright green backdrop, the baby stars themselves poignantly visible due to a surrounding purplish neon hue, and the pillar-like nebula itself rising from the bottom in a hazy, brownish cloud that is reminiscent of a sand-storm or earthen debris that is thrown into the air after some explosive impact. Is this really what the Eagle Nebula looks like in space? No. Many of the light wavelengths the Hubble Telescope receives must be “translated” by NASA into what visible light we can see in order for these picturesque images to strongly display all that they do. Of course, we could go into the politics of why these images are made as colorful as they are, but that is a completely off-topic debate.
So, in an awkwardly abrupt conclusion, yes, science has helped us to understand and structure so much of our world, but even science can’t escape the contamination of the image. It appears literally impossible, even for the realm of science, to “freeze-frame” all that is within the physical world because of our own limits of sight. Darn. I feel like my little scientist idol has just been smashed. Oh well.
Comparing the two pieces (Latour and Taussig), a few thoughts came to mind. Taussig's article focuses on the idea of defacing leads to the immediate refacing of images. Either the act of defacing is a new image, or more images are produced (or both). Latour, on the other hand, speaks of the impossibility of getting to an unmediated truth, due to the cascade of images (there are infinite peels of the onion). There are a continuous line of images behind the first facade - a continuous refacing. For a refacing to occur, though, there must be a destruction. For there to be creation, iconoclash must occur; it's a cyclical process, with each acting on each other. Latour speaks on the conflicts of science and religion, and how they attempt to disprove each other, causing an endless iconoclash. What I found intriguing though, is the art vs. art iconoclash - an unknowing (or perhaps knowing) destruction of an image. When an artist produces, does not the finished product replace another? Is the replaced doomed to oblivion due to this replacement? However, without this iconoclash, there can never be a cascade of images and the world would be fraught with pre-Beethoven Leipzig (Latour 28). Production leads to destruction, knowing or unknowing. We must revel in the cascade of images, and thus, iconoclash, as Latour states.
I was glad to see that Latour discussed religious icons, scientific inscriptions and contemporary art and how each category relates to iconoclash. When we were at the Met I kept thinking about how different art made to be shown in a museum is from ancient artefacts that we now consider art, and then wondering if they actually were different or if it just seemed that they ought to be somehow. This made me appreciate Latour's discussion of how "Everything [in contemporary art] has been slowly experimented against and smashed to pieces" (Latour 22) just as religious icons are created and destroyed, both for being images and for not being good enough images. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the scientific images, though-- it seems to me that even if you need scientific instruments and training to see something, it is still that thing itself and not an image; if signifier and signified are conflated it is because they are one and the same. I suppose if one believes, for example, that the moon embodies a spirit then the moon could function as an idol, but it is clearly not made by humans and cannot be destroyed nor rebuilt by human hands. It means something different to each of us because we necessarily experience life subjectively, but this is not the same as a work of art created by humans to mean something. Maybe.
I find Latour’s “cascading of images” to be a very important and relevant point for anyone who lives in the modern world, and especially New York City. New Yorkers are constantly bombarded with images of all types, especially advertisements. All these images are representations of some other images or object; there is no way that they cannot reference another man-made image in some way. Although Latour focuses specifically on religious, scientific, and contemporary art images, I think that images from everyday advertisements would be an interesting addition to his examples, especially since one could argue that materialism in America is almost tantamount to a religion. Latour says, “a scientific image…is a set of instructions to reach another one down the line…the whole series has meaning, but none of its elements has any sense” (34). While Latour describes scientific images this way, I think that it also applies to images used in advertising. Often billboards and posters will use imagery to reference one idea or object that has been connected with the main object by American society. If the viewer does not know the original image or idea being referenced, the actual image before their eyes looses the meaning intended by the creator of the image. Strange and seemingly random connections are made in order to make viewers not only think of a certain object, but desire that object or idea. Labour’s focus in the last few pages of the text on “connecting images to images, playing with series of them, repeating them, reproducing them, distorting them slightly” (35) gets to the core of the power of images, and why the study of images is such a fascinating passage leading to the most intimate workings of the human mind. Advertisements in the city were the examples that leapt most readily to my mind while reading Latour’s text because of the uncertain feelings such images solicit: while they are usually degraded by viewers as annoying and intrusive, these images also succeed because our society is one of the most materialistic societies of all time. When advertising images force a viewer to recall other related images, the viewer is able to gather a wide-reaching message from the image at hand.
One other fascinating point of Latour’s ideas is the sort of double consciousness people have about images made by human hands. Of course every image is made or influenced by humans, and everyone knows this, but Latour points out that people go to great lengths in order to cover the marks left by their hands, so to speak. However, it seems to me that often the way an image was created is not the initial reaction of the viewer to an image, instead it is a reaction to other aspects of the image. This is what makes a powerful image, one that can divert the attention of its viewer away from the marks of its creation to some other idea, the end goal the maker of the image had in mind.
I found Latour’s notion of the double bind really interesting to consider. “How could one not become a fanatic since gods, truths, and sanctity have to be made and there is no longer any legitimate way of making them?” (p23) Latour implies that man cannot help himself from making images, and when he does he has only two options (according to the 2nd commandment): to deny his agency in the creation of the image and attribute his work as the work of god and he as the agent of god, or to recognize it as “made by your own hands, in which case it is worthless” (23). Upon consideration of this double bind issue, I am wondering whether iconoclasm derives from the frustration caused here. If the only creative agency and attempt at reaching truth we are granted via the second commandment is the breakage of idols, then it seems that we are only legitimately able to achieve this through destruction. What if the cascade of images that we create are necessary as attempts at truth, so that we can realize their failure and then attempt again to reach truth via their destruction, creating a constant flow and neverending stream of images. I think Taussig’s concept of masking/unmasking is similar to this idea as well. He says, “It is a curious thing, this, that far from demystifying, demasking can heighten the masking power of the mask. This is mre than curious; it is the beginning of philosophy, of knowing, and of being, for demasking is a peculiar form of defacement, a soer of double or meta-defacement returning the face to its home in faciality—only to discover, but not accept, that once left, home changes (p 232). Masking and demasking derive meaning from eachother and function in a similar, constant, streaming way.
-becky
Jeff explained the cascade of images in science as the pursuit of “nature” by means of measurable facts. This opinion is acknowledged in Latour’s introduction, that scientific images are “not even images, but the world itself” (11). I do not think discussions of “iconoclash” allow for an extreme separation of the pursuit of supernatural explanations of the world and the pursuit of natural explanations, or the separate onions that Jeff is suggesting. The human oscillation between idolatry and iconoclasm, and the central problem of the idol we have discussed in class is characterized by our desire to distinguish natural and supernatural yet our inability to do so. Also, I do not see how the pursuit of the natural, by science imagery, is not the pursuit of truth in its purest form. The signposts of science ultimately seek the facts of the natural world, suggesting the mystery of nature. My knowledge of science is not extensive, but the professors I have had in the sciences approach the mysteries of the universe, referring to its sacredness and impenetrability. The images created by science guide us towards this discovery. These images are human-made, and yet agreed upon by many as objective (Latour 11). Science has exists in series without a referent, according to Latour, yet can be grasped within the context of a series, even when invisible (36). In this way, I would argue that science and religion are working through the same onion, though they may offer distinct situations of iconoclash (10). One might be conceived as the pursuit of the supernatural and one as the pursuit of the natural, but ultimately they are engaged in the same processes of image making and destroying. They are characterized by distinct conclusions one is supposed to reach through them, yet the pursuit looks similar: a cascade of images.
In Latour’s Iconoclash, I was particularly interested in his comparison between science and religion. He posits that there is “no longer any legitimate way of making [gods and truths].” The cascade of scientific images has the same double-bind as religion: humans must either make the image, therefore delegitimizing it; or the image must be made by something greater than themselves. Science as well as religion are not intended to be built by humans. Religion and science are meant to be truths that impact how humans live their lives. For this reason, humans cannot be seen as the creators of images of religion or science. Humans should not create truth for other humans: how does one person know the truth that controls others? If scientific evidence for a theory is found to be “made” by a human, it becomes illegitimate. Yet at the same time, human intervention is necessary in order to make scientific discoveries, to create scientific images. This necessary invisibility on the part of human action within the “legitimate” creation of scientific and religious imagery is emblematic of the double bind Latour discusses.
Though, as Latour points out, in reality, scientific images, such as representations of galaxies, atoms, and genes, are “able to be so objectively true…because of so many mediations.” So here lies the difference between religion and science according to Latour. Images of gods are not objectively true with more mediation. In fact, images of gods are not intended to be objectively true in any sense. But I do wonder, why does the human have to be invisible? And also, scientists certainly do not think that the human hand is science delegitimizes the work. Who deems legitimacy for Latour? Why do they get that right?
Yesterday I connected the question of the face (specifically that of "Christ") to Taussig's plea "to raise the face--specifically the face as a fetish-crossing forever crossed, the ur-border zone, the mother of all borderlands. One does not look at the face... but is granted access to it as an ethical act" (225).
Taussig elaborates that "crossing back and forth across the face as mask and window to the soul is our necessary task and it is due to such 'disproportion' [of the two] that we discern the 'always beyond' that spills out from the fetish" (227). This paradoxical, bordered quality of the face generates in its beholder a sense that there is something more that cannot be reached, an "always beyond". This promotes the unresolvedness and agency within the fetish. Later, he explains facelessness, which is "not so much being without a face as it is a reorganization of faciality creating a new type of face" (240).
Through Taussig, we can see the image of Christ as a faceless face, a forever-reorganizing, forever-crossing, forever-defacing/refacing fetish. This becomes a springboard for what Latour is thinking about, the cascade of images: "the crucial distinction... [is] between the interrupted flow of pictures and a cascade of them" (32). To call the Christ image "the faceless face of 'god'" is to suggest mobility (through the crossing), but Latour is saying that there is more than one border or contradiction. There are, in fact, several disorderly relations. Clearly, Latour is not just thinking about disproportion.
Nonetheless, Taussig's paradox framework (the "public secret") is foundational for Latour to think about what iconoclash is and what iconoclash means. To at once understand and not understand an image (an image that is both a mask and a window to the soul) is included in iconoclash; "there is no way to know, without further enquiry, whether it is destructive or constructive" (16). If the image of Christ is a fetish-crossing forever crossed, then the viewer upon realizing the contradiction stumbles upon the flowing cascade.
Latour’s choice of using the shroud example to start off this article is highly compelling and really drew me in. His approach is clear and yet covers a broad range of questions and answers to the problem of iconoclash. He provides clear definitions for iconoclasm and iconoclash in a way I had never really thought of. Although he doesn’t mention it I think as he is exploring the truth in images and why they create so much passion he is dancing around an idea of perception which seems to make a huge difference in how we receive the different types of images. Of course how we perceive these images is something learned although personally I think there is some sort of universal cognitive process that all learning grapples with or highlights. I also like how he explores the hand behind the image and that sometimes it gives validity to the power of an image and sometimes makes it totally irrelevant. I think this comes from a sort of double consciousness about human agency that privileges us above all around us as such rational and creative creatures while at the same time acknowledges are massive inabilities when one looks at how nature works and was created (how little we can do in comparison to “god” or “nature”). I think that he develops a lot of binaries in the beginning of his comparison that exist in the world as double consciences and I think that how these binaries collide is part of what he is exploring as iconoclash and iconoclasm. I think the trifecta of pitting religion science and modern art against each other can be highly enlightening. We have religion and science often put against each other they each put a different importance on the hand of the creator, each seem to evoke different emotions and each are believed to come from a different sort of rationality and purpose. Then we have modern art where every new piece seems to be smashing the boundary between the two methods of thought; religious and scientific. Yet each piece seems to deal with a different example of iconoclash. When these three subjects are put together we see a 3d explanation of iconoclash as its own area of study.
On a more personal note these ideas of truth, power, creation, and destruction that follow images is I think highly important. Not just to art or archaeology or diplomacy but also just for ones own personal journey through life. In exploring these ideas we ask questions that seem to be about the image or society and in answering them we can learn a lot about the human condition. It isn't just about how we interact with images in a formal setting but how we interact with images and people and situations all around us. We can learn about perception and how subjective it is and yet objectively universal in importance. I really think that a lot of these works, and I have a particular fondness for Latour now, can be read philosophically and be highly enlightening on their own.
So I was trying to fall asleep and couldn't because I had to post this thought. How can we see Jesus, or more specifically the Holy Trinity, as having a huge connection to iconoclasm. Latour talks about the double bind in asserting ones humanly creation or asserting its divine power. What if Jesus faced this double bind but not in creation of an image but in creation of a religion, ideas, and doctrine. If he had said "Oh, Ive been musing on stuff lately and I think this is the way everyone should live and the morals everyone should live by, and I've created this whole story to make it clear to you all" he wouldn't have found half as many followers as he did. So did he say he was both the son of god and the mortal manifestation of god, as part of the holy trinity, in order to bring some sort of power and authority to his words? Granted he was persecuted anyways but he did start a religion that has become accepted worldwide and created some of the greatest events and movements the world has seen. It is curious what authority he developed and yet at the same time what doubt he faced because of his connection with this divine power. I am not saying that the Catholic faith is based on some guy dealing with an iconoclashlike situation but it is an interesting idea to think about nonetheless. I have to go to bed but there are so many questions to ask looking at this example I could write so much more.
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