1 To understand Byzantine culture, one must understand Byzantine liturgy; to understand liturgy, one must understand the clergy;

to understand the clergy means to grapple with their vestments. Warrant T. Woodfins The Embodied Icon is precisely that grappling. Published in 2012, it is the most recent and up to date history of Byzantine vestments. He concentrates his research between the 9th and 15th centuries, including both the Macedonian period and the Komnenian Dynasty. Woodfin views the embroidered garb on its own terms; instead of leaving tunics and stoles to rest unused on frames and hangers in museums, he elevates the importance of the liturgy in which they were worn. The Embodied Icon is the most conclusive analysis of Byzantine vestments written in the last few decades. In this essay I will summarize Woodfins monograph, present two counters that both challenge his argument while also illuminating his findings, and conclude discussing how a medieval perspective is helped by his work. Jennifer Ball, writing a review of The Embodied Icon, summarizes Woodfins argument as follows, embroidered liturgical vestments need to be understood within the larger system of Byzantine dress that controlled secular, especially imperial and court dress; perhaps more significantly, he also argues that these textiles fall within the Byzantine world view which saw everything on earth as a reflection of the heavenly sphere.1 The Embodied Icon is broken up into two parts, the first being a description of the vestments used in their respective offices, the iconography that develops, and an exegesis of the liturgy emphasizing the role the vestments play. The second draws parallels between imperial court garments and additions made by clergy, as well as the corresponding roles the imperial court and the clergy play in the Heavenly court. Jennifer Ball, Review of The Embodied Icon, Bryn Mawr Classical Review, 2012. http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2012/2012-11-10.html
1

2 Woodfin starts with a detailed analysis of the actual vestments. Stoles, cloaks, tunics, all have their own role, function, and symbolism, and Woodfin provides a concise description as well as evolution of these pieces. Its important to gain familiarity with the vestments used in the Byzantine liturgy. Deacons, priests, and bishops have specific garments that distinguish them, and all share common pieces that unite the clergy. The outfits build on one another, similar to the growth in responsibility that deacons, then priests, and finally bishops have in the church. Deacons have the most basic form of vestments. The foundation is the sticharion, the plain, long-sleeved tunic worn during the liturgy. This item is worn by all of the offices and ranks of the clergy, but is most prominently seen on deacons because there are fewer additions to cover it. The primary piece of the deacons uniform was the orarion, the stole worn over one shoulder. It was used in the liturgy to bless objects or intone chants, and it paralleled the movement of the wings of angels. Priests built upon what deacons wore. They wore the sticharion, but instead wore their own type of stole, the epitrachelion. The main difference is that the epitrachelion was worn over both shoulders, emphasizing the double burden priests bear for themselves and for the church. The primacy of this piece is hard to overstate; priests could swear upon their epitrachelion rather than on the Gospels themselves. In addition, priests wore the phelmion, a full outer garment that was laid over both the strachelion and epitrachelion during the liturgy. The most elaborate of the vestments were reserved for bishops. Since bishops were still priests, they wore the sticharion, epitrachelion, and phlemion. During most parts of the Divine Liturgy, bishops were an omophorion. A broad outer stole made of wool to represent

3 sheep on Christs shoulders, the omophorion was taken off during Gospel readings and Eucharist more perfect representations of Christ. Tucked into the bishops girdle was the last piece of the clergys vestments, decorative panel of cloth called the epigonation. Some modern art historians still rely on the idea that all of Byzantium prided itself on its unchanging nature in all spheres of life. . Woodfin whole-heartedly opposes this view and shows the evolution of the vestments over time. The first major change is the rise of the polystaurion phelonion. Polystuairon are the many-crossed outer garments seen in Byzantine artwork. The shift occurs in the 12th century, and the garments were originally for major patriarchs. Interestingly enough, the vast majority of all of these pieces were kept free of figural embroidery before this period. Despite the Second Council of Niceas encouragement to make icons on sacred vessels and vestments, no surviving evidence survives that this was done since the beginning of iconoclasm until the 12th century. Liturgical cuffs called epimanikia were added first to bishops, then priests, and even deacons by the mid 14th century. Sakkos, dark tunics worn over the rest of bishop garb, were also added later. These were some of the first and primary vestments that were embroidered with icons. Stoles and outer garments like the sakkos were embroidered with the stereotypical images seen in churches. There were a few important depictions found on vestments of all types. Relative to the iconostasis and frescoes found in churches which had a wide spectrum of images, the iconography on vestments was fairly conservative. The first was the Feast Cycle. Found mainly on a sakkos, the succession of images followed the key events from Jesus life. Appendix A features the Major sakkos of Photios, circa 1414-1417. It bears the entire 12-

4 episode cycle on the front and back. Favorite scenes include the Crucifixion, the Ascension of Christ, the Dormition of the Virgin, and so on. The second image seen on numerous garments is the Great Deesis. Meaning intercession, the Great Deesis conventionally depicts Christ between the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist. There are a number of different interpretations for this image. Traditionally used for intercession for the patron or viewer of the icon, it also attests to the doctrine of the Incarnation, as Mary the mother of Christ and John prepare the way for Christ. The major works Woodfin focuses on are Eucharistic. One example is the Annunciation found on epimanikia (Appendix B). While the annunciation was imaged in different ways, the usual solution was to separate Gabriel from the Virgin, one on each cuff. This scene is often used on opposite sides of a sanctuary arch, where the space in between is where the Incarnation occurs during the Divine Liturgy the Eucharist. Similarly, this occurs in between the cuffs when the priest or bishop performs the Eucharistic mystery. As the priest consecrates the elements, they become the representation and presence of Christ, incarnated in his hands according to the liturgy. Woodfin writes, [the embroidery] moves the symbolism to the personal level of the celebrant and his power to consecrate the Eucharist.2 The symbolism in these moving images is important because of their role in the liturgy. The Divine Liturgy is not allegorical, but rather a reenactment of the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ. When the laity venerate according to the Feast Cycle, they are moving through the life of Christ. On two-dimensional forms of the Feast Cycle,
2

Warren T. Woodfin, The Embodied Icon (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 101.

5 the events play out in a more or less logical order, according to the timeline of when they happened. This is not true with the vestments that depicted the Feast Cycle. Events were not portrayed by occurrence, but rather more thematically. The annunciation and ascension might be on the same side of a sakkos, for example, rather than reading each side like a single page. Woodfin calls the exegesis of vestments in this regard a second level of interpretation.3 He is quick to note that not all of the laity would read in this way.4 The clergy, however, could be counted on to understand this method of interpretation because of their involvement in the major events of the liturgy. He writes, For those versed in this symbolic mode of thought, the mystagogy of the liturgy would make the celebrants sacramental role as minister in the place of Christ concretely visible By means of these embroidered images, priests and bishops made themselves into living representations of Christ as they reenacted his Incarnation, Sacrifice, and Resurrection.5 In part two of his book, Woodfin then relates the dress of the imperial court to the members of the clergy, specifically bishops and patriarchs. In the 10th century, garments that the emperor wore were symbolic of the emperors role as the image of Christ on earth. His officials were considered to be types of apostles, following their emperor. But 400 years later, the confident association of the imperial court to representation of Christ dropped drastically, with descriptions of the colors and pieces of dress holding imperial virtues instead of Christs authority.
3 4 5

Ibid., 128 Ibid. Ibid., 129

6 The clergy borrowed varied forms of headdress from the imperial court in their major addition over time. While the multiple terms for headdress keep historians from nailing down a precise moment when mitre were worn, Woodfin argues that their use was to determine rank among bishops. Members of the imperial court had used headgear in that way for centuries, and as the number of patriarchs grew in Constantinople, so did the need to determine their rank. The artwork of the Late Byzantine period depicting the differences between imperial court members and ecclesial offices amidst the heavenly realm completes Woodfins analysis. He points out that while the emperor is Christs representation on Earth, in heaven he is often depicted as a deacon. However, the bishops are associated with Christ because their representation of Christ in the Divine Liturgy and their role in consecrating the Eucharist. As a reality that those living during the late Byzantine period experienced, the heavenly court established a firmer sense of who held power in the relations between the secular, religious, and heavenly kingdoms. So is the embodied icon an apt description of the interplay between embroidered vestments and the Divine Liturgy? Woodfin himself finds some shortfalls in his own description. The layering of garments on priests and bishops made it difficult to discern what scene or image was being worn. It was also rare for the laity to see the vestments of the deacon or the priest in an effort to venerate them. Either they were kept in special locations away from the public, or worn and in use. Both priests and deacons vested outside of the main nave, where the laity couldnt see. Bishops followed suit up until the late 14th century, when bishops were vested at the beginning of the liturgy in the nave itself. Woodfin writes that, images on vestments functioned very differently from icons

7 displayed for public contemplation and veneration. It would hardly have been possible to directly venerate such images, as the canons of Nicaea II prescribed, but they could function as a sort of amuletic protection to the priest in the exercise of his ministry.6 Whether these vestments are actually icons depends primarily on what the definition of icon is. In Crossing the Visible, Jean-Luc Marion presents a counter blast of sorts that addresses how vestments might not actually be considered icons. Most definitions center the discussion on the relationship between the image and the prototype, especially surrounding the definition given by Nicaea II. Marion identifies two traits of an icon: it deserves, even demands, veneration, and it also manifests a trace of the holiness of the Holy.7 Woodfins description of the use of vestments fails the first requirement of an icon because of the vestments inability to be venerated properly. The vestments figures cannot be venerated during the Divine Liturgy according to practice, and are not accessible to laity at any other time. Another issue Marion might raise concerning vestments lies in the role of icons. Marion describes it this way, The icon, by refusing the role of being merely a mimetic image, reaches the person of the other the invisible Holy One.8 Icons are a pathway to the invisible, recognizing, but not resembling, the Holy. As Woodfin described the interaction of bishops and their embroidered vestments, he focused on the representation of Christ in the liturgy. Marion would argue that these images are merely mimetic or imitational, not iconographic despite the depictions of stereotypical icons.
6 7

Ibid., 90.

Jean-Luc Marion, Crossing the Visible trans. James K. A. Smith (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004)
8

Ibid., 78.

8 Woodfin confirms this shift in thinking of vestments in his last chapter titled the vesture and the unseen world. During the 15th century, epitrachelion and other vestments showed Christ not in traditional garb, but dressed as a patriarch. Emphasis grew in the Late Byzantine period to view Christ as the Great High Priest, but this hardened the categories of how to view Christ. Earlier Byzantine icons would have Christ depicted in a singular style, with similar hair and details, but inscribe different attributes to meditate on. But when Christ is dressed like a patriarch, the lines between the patriarch and Christ blur, and the multiplicity of ways to adore Christ are lessened. A more friendly perspective comes from Bissera V. Pentcheva, An art historian similarly focused on Byzantine sources, she highlights what icons do in her article, The Performative Icon. She writes that Byzantine icons have a legacy of tactile visuality, sensually experienced.9 While Marion elevates the position of icon theology and the movement from icon to prototype, Pentcheva restores a vision of the iconographic experience, one that brings together the image, the prayers, and the senses. She distinguishes between sight, which emphasizes materiality, and taste, which provides divine access.10 For Woodfin, this might mean that the sight of the icons on vestments might be secondary to the icon of the priest or bishop wearing them. He is seen performing liturgical actions, doing what is symbolized in the surrounding frescoes. When dispensing the elements of Eucharist, the icon-priest is bringing taste to the laity, a divine moment that is the climax of the liturgy. In this regard, priests in their vestments could be the best fulfillment of an embodied icon.
9

Bissera V. Pencheva, The Performative Icon, The Art Bulletin 88, no. 4 (2006): 632 Ibid.

10

9 Taking vestments off museum racks and placing them back into Byzantine liturgy is the most important contribution Woodfin makes in The Embodied Icon. His clearly articulated argument showing the changes in vesture over time is a welcome turn from the unchanging Byzantium presented in some accounts. Woodfin allows the mindset of Byzantine clergy and laity to guide his focus, analyzing both the symbolism and high level interpretation church offices would be familiar with as well as the main modes of understanding accessible to all. The Embodied Icon finds a comfortable niche in between the theological and philosophical moorings of Marion and the experiential emphases of Pentcheva, a welcome addition to the world of art history.

10 Bibliography Ball, Jennifer. Review of The Embodied Icon. Bryn Mawr Classical Review. (November, 10, 2012). http://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/2012/2012-11-10.html Marion, Jean-Luc. The Crossing of the Visible. Translated by James K. A. Smith. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2004. Pentcheva, Bissera V. The Performative Icon. The Art Bulletin 88, no. 4 (2006): 631-655. Woodfin, Warren T. The Embodied Icon. New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.

11 Appendix A

Major Sakkos of Photios, front, c. 1414-1417. The Kremlin. Retrieved from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Large_sakkos_of_photius.jpg

12 Appendix B

Epimanikia with the Annunciation, 1704, Victoria and Albert Museum.