Aisha's Cushion

Jamal J. Elias

• Publisher: Harvard University Press
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9780674070660
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Islamic Theology

Media coverage of the Danish cartoon crisis and the destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan left Westerners with a strong impression that Islam does not countenance depiction of religious imagery. Jamal J. Elias corrects this view by revealing the complexity of Islamic attitudes toward representational religious art. Aisha's Cushion emphasizes Islam's perceptual and intellectual modes and in so doing offers the reader both insight into Islamic visual culture and a unique way of seeing the world. Aisha's Cushion evaluates the controversies surrounding blasphemy and iconoclasm by exploring Islamic societies at the time of Muhammad and the birth of Islam; during early contact between Arab Muslims and Byzantine Christians; in medieval Anatolia and India; and in modern times. Elias's inquiry then goes further, to situate Islamic religious art in a global context. His comparisons with Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, and Hindu attitudes toward religious art show them to be as contradictory as those of Islam. Contemporary theories about art's place in society inform Elias's investigation of how religious objects have been understood across time and in different cultures.Elias contends that Islamic perspectives on representation and perception should be sought not only in theological writings or aesthetic treatises but in a range of Islamic works in areas as diverse as optics, alchemy, dreaming, calligraphy, literature, vehicle and home decoration, and Sufi metaphysics. Unearthing shades of meaning in Islamic thought throughout history, Elias offers fresh insight into the relations among religion, art, and perception across a broad range of cultures.

1

Representation, Resemblance, and Religion

Mad Hatter: “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

…

“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

—LEWIS CARROLL, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

The interest in representational images often cloaks an ontological concern with mimesis, where sculpture is seen as more mimetic than two-dimensional representations. Sculpture’s very plasticity lets it resemble the living referent more closely than images do, which opens it to attacks for being more deceptive precisely because it is more “real,” threatening to destroy the border between the living being (be it divine or human) and the copy, which verges on being a clone, capable of taking the place of its prototype, or at least confusing the viewer as to which is the original and which the copy. Stories of statues coming to life abound in cultures around the world, and in most instances their animation results in tragedy for those near them. The distinction between two- and three-dimensional art, already there in Plato’s thought, was well-established by the twelfth and thirteenth century among Christian writers who distinguished between similacrum and imago, with the former being applied to sculpture and the second to painting (although the distinction is not always maintained strictly). Of the two, “image” (imago) is the one that passes more often into general usage to mean a likeness of a comparative sort, specifically paintings or representations of a deity; similacrum, in contrast, implies a replica or copy, sometimes with an archetype and at others the manifestation of an idea, like when the world is seen as a similacrum of divine wisdom.1 A similar difference in implication exists in the Arabic terms for images and representations, where sūra and tamthīl frequently mean a two- and three-dimensional image, respectively. As I discuss in the context of Islamic attitudes toward idolatry in Chapter 4, a sūra is an image or picture, while the word tamthīl refers to a similitude or copy.

A “copy”—certainly in the everyday use of the term—is inferior to the original in that it is deficient, characterized by the lack of something that, were it to be present in the copy, would make it indistinguishable from the original. In contrast, a “representation” is superior (or perhaps more powerful) to that which it represents in some important respects. A representation is present when its prototype is absent, or it is accessible while the prototype is inaccessible, with presence and accessibility being better than absence and inaccessibility in all respects but for some philosophical notions of human behavior. God is inaccessible and transcendent out of a complex theological need, but a god that is not present in the world, and accessible and responsive to its worshippers and petitioners, is not a god that warrants their involvement. In that respect, a representation holds a functional superiority over the prototype.

Mimetic representation by the image—by which I mean both sculpture and architecture in addition to two-dimensional art—is dynamic and multifaceted, in that the image does not copy the prototype so much as it enters a discursive relationship with it such that they are “ontologically interwoven” or in “ontological communion,” as Gadamer put it, wherein the image “shares in what it represents.”2 Mimetic representation of this sort is distinct from the perfect copy exemplified by the photograph. Photographs are, indeed, intimately linked to their causes (by which I mean here the objects represented rather than their physical processes), but involve a different theory of representation which is causal: we know a photograph to be an analog of an object when we are sure that it is caused by that object; the moment we doubt that causal relationship, the photograph becomes devoid of any real content.3 Photographs have a tautological nature as representations and can never therefore be removed from their specific referents, nor can they immediately or generally be distinguished from them. “A pipe [in a photograph] is always and intractably a pipe. It is as if the Photograph always carries its referent with itself.…”4

This mimetic relationship is exemplified by the so-called voodoo doll, which can never be mistaken for the person with which it is associated, yet it represents the person with whom it has entered into “ontological communion.” In semiotic terms, the voodoo doll represents the person iconically, in that it bears a formal resemblance to him or her through association. And through rituals involving the doll as a representational sign, the doll brings the human prototype into spatial and temporal contact with malevolent supernatural forces. To those familiar with the terms of this mimetic system, poking the doll with needles or burning or smashing it are not understood as actually stabbing, burning, or crushing the person, but rather as instigating the successful intervention of these supernatural forces. In the absence of any knowledge of the specific representational relationship established between the doll and the human being, to the outside observer it would simply look as if the doll had been mistaken or imagined as something else (a victim) to whom it bore no close resemblance.5

Much of the scholarship on Muslim representational art has missed this important point in the nature of mimesis and representation, focusing instead on an aesthetically constructed notion of resemblance, or else holding to what I consider overly formalistic and ultimately misguided distinctions between representational versus nonrepresentational, iconic versus noniconic, religious versus secular art, and so on.6 This ultimately teleological system of categorizing Islamic visual and material art misses the point that, from a perspective that emphasizes the place of images and objects in the religious lives of human beings, resemblance is not a matter of “looking like” something (with the photograph of a known person being the most accurately representative), but rather of perfectly embodying those aspects of the relationship of representation that are valued within the specific context where the object belongs.

Aniconism and Representation

There is a practical, if somewhat outdated, distinction drawn between religious societies and practices that display an absence of images as opposed to those that actively denounce them, with the latter phenomenon commonly being referred to as “iconophobia” and the former “aniconism.” Aniconicism is sometimes defined additionally as a form of religious practice that does not accept the worship or veneration of representational images, especially anthropomorphic ones. Very frequently, aniconic ritual incorporates the use of nonrepresentational items such as found objects, unworked stones, or nonrepresentational manufactured artifacts such as poles or pillars. Following Mettinger, I am using the term aniconism in a broader sense to connote the absence of anthropomorphic or theriomorphic representational, mimetic images of deities or other religious personages. In this sense, aniconism can manifest itself in two ways, either through aniconic symbolism or through a notion of sacred emptiness.7 Such an understanding of aniconism—and consequently its corollary phenomena such as iconism, iconophilia, iconolatry, idolatry, and so on—focuses in the first place upon the presence or absence of religious visual images of any form, without concerning itself with broader questions of representation and mimesis. It also recognizes the intentional absence of images and material objects as a form of presence in and of itself, in that such absences imply an intentional void where the image would be otherwise. This is distinct from a passive or unintentional aniconism, that is, one where human beings simply do not have any concern with, awareness of, or memory of visual or material religious objects. I will not concern myself with such an imagined context since I do not believe that such a purely aniconic human society exists. A broad conception of aniconism (and conversely of iconicity and so on) also allows for the suspension of preconceived notions of the nature of deities in specific religious contexts, with their inevitable valuation on a spectrum with a singular, transcendent, invisible god at one extreme and a multitude of colorful, immanent, visible gods on the other.

Precisely this tension between notions of a transcendent deity and the mundane materiality of visual and material objects is apparent in the rich visual culture of Christianity, where the Eastern icon and Western images came to signify distinct religious views, though not in the eyes of actual practitioners so much as in the understandings of scholars looking back at the split between the Eastern and Western churches. “Heavenly and earthly were compressed in the [Orthodox] icon’s unambiguous stare. Quite the opposite was the case in the West, where Gregory of Tours bluntly stated, ‘no joining is possible between earthly and heavenly objects,’ and where what Peter Brown calls a ‘discontinuous holy’ was ‘deeply inserted into human society.’ The history of medieval art in the West is that of a struggle to transform into meaningful spectacle, the spiritual impoverishment of visible things that had been delegated to a ‘second order’ of signification.”8

Christian attitudes toward religious images are dealt with at some length in Chapter 2; here I will address only some important questions concerning notions of visual representation that are illustrative in a comparative religious context and are relevant to the place of religious images in Islamic culture. Even in the case of icons in Orthodox Christianity, widespread belief in the supernatural powers that work through these images is implicit rather than explicit, and is normally presented as such in the stories that describe their miracle-working.9 The provenance of these supernatural abilities is seldom mentioned, presumably implying—but not stating—that the icon’s resemblance to the deity or religious personage (Christ, Mary, or a saint) is the source of its miraculous power.

It is the aforementioned “second order” signification that determines the place of images in much of Protestant Christianity, especially in the modern period, when the ability of images to make the absent present has come to define their religious place. Such images can be narrative or iconic, functioning didactically as illustrations of religious stories or else, through the representational presence of Jesus, by encouraging the believer to think of him and therefore behave in moral ways. At the same time, the purpose of the image can also be emotional, in that, by making the absent present, it helps ease the viewer’s ache of longing for Jesus. Morgan has shown the role played by Warner Sallman’s painting entitled Head of Christ in constructing the representation of Jesus for millions of Protestants, especially in North America. This painting has been reproduced more than half a billion times in a variety of media since it first appeared in print in 1941, and through its sheer pervasiveness has become inseparable in the public imagination from the appearance of the historical Jesus. Each version of Sallman’s Jesus “is an adaptation or variation on the same theme, tailored to the situation of an image maker, the market that manufactures and disseminates the image, and the public that beholds it. The ultimate effect, however, for many believers, if not all, is a corroboration of Christ’s ‘real’ likeness. Countless images form an array of sameness rather than difference.”10

Among the devout viewers of Sallman’s Jesus, the painter’s imagined representation of him has taken on a mimetic accuracy such that the image is conceptualized as a “photograph” capturing Jesus’s likeness with perfect, mechanical accuracy. It is this belief in its ability to represent Jesus perfectly that led the artist, in response to popular demand, to paint another version of the same representation of Jesus, called Christ Our Pilot, in which the subject is simply rotated so that he faces the viewer a bit more, as if looking at her or him. In its many uses, this likeness becomes opulent with the many interests and desires of those who depict Jesus as well as those who are devoted to him. “When devout viewers see what they imagine to be the actual appearance of the divinity that cares for them, the image becomes an icon. The icon is experienced by believers as presenting some aspect of the real thing, shorn of convention, as if standing before the image is to enjoy the very presence of its referent. As an operation of perception that locates in an image the genuine character or personality of Jesus, the icon is the engine of visual piety.”11 Represented in the many variants of Sallman’s original conception, the religious viewer has simultaneous access to the historical Jesus, an image of him, as well as the spiritual and divine message inherent in the idea of Christ that is signified through the formal nature of the artist’s rendition of his appearance, expression, and gaze.

Representation in Hinduism and Buddhism

A similar phenomenon whereby a pervasive and popular modern representation of a deity can take the role of a photo-realistic image of a historical figure is encountered in depictions of Hindu gods in chromolithographic posters in modern India, where very standard representations of Bharat Mata (Mother India), Krishna (especially as a baby), and other deities repeat themselves, though none with the pervasiveness of Sallman’s Jesus.12 In the case of many deities, standard forms of representation cover a spectrum from the aniconic to photo-realistic, such that the goddess Durga can be represented by a clay pot or by a number of different anthropomorphic forms with very specific iconographic signifiers (mudras), with all versions representing the deity with equal accuracy from the point of view of the devotee.

In Hindu devotional practice, “seeing” a deity has a very technical meaning; the term darshan, meaning “seeing,” refers to the central ritual act through which a devotee interacts with the deity. In widespread devotional understanding, it is in the precise moment when the worshipper is engaged in darshan as an act of “ritual ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface on Abbreviations and Conventions
• Prologue: The Promise of a Meaningful Image
• 1. Representation, Resemblance, and Religion
• 2. The Icon and the Idol
• 3. Iconoclasm, Iconophobia, and Islam
• 4. Idols, Icons, and Images in Islam
• 5. Beauty, Goodness, and Wonder
• 6. Alchemy, Appearance, and Essence
• 7. Dreams, Visions, and the Imagination
• 8. Sufism and the Metaphysics of Resemblance
• 9. Words, Pictures, and Signs
• 10. Legibility, Iconicity, and Monumental Writing
• Epilogue
• Illustrations
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Acknowledgments
• Index