CHALLENGING THE CANON
PENTCHEVA
BRUBAKER
BARBER
Icon with the Triumph of Orthodoxy, c. 1400 (Byzantine), tempera and gold on wood, 39 x 31 cm (The British Museum, London)
HODEGETRIA
The wood panel, covered in a shimmering gold leaf, is divided into two registers which together tell the story of the restoration of images in Byzantium in 843 following the Iconoclasm. The upper register is dominated by an icon being held by two angels–an icon within the icon. The particular icon being displayed within the border of red drapery is the Hodegetria, a depiction of Mary with the Christ Child in her right hand, and her left hand pointing to him as the “Guide” to salvation. Mary is also shown with a sullen and sorrowful countenance, as if looking ahead to her son’s eventual crucifixion. The Hodegetria takes on particular importance in Constantinople, as iconophiles believed the image was painted by the Evangelist St. Luke. The Hodegetria became a popular iconographic depiction of Mary, with each copy carrying the same perceived power as St. Luke’s original, functioning as a conduit for prayer.
LOWER REGISTER
The lower register features 11 priests and monks, all facing inward to draw the viewer’s eye to the Hodegetria. Some of the figures themselves hold objects or icons, once again communicating the proliferation of images that the imperial family is facilitating. Noticeably, there is only one woman, the Nun Theodosia, who is the leftmost figure within the holy lineup. She holds an icon that, like the image she is within, is covered in goldleaf. The cross design on the nimbus indicates that this is an image of Christ, a display of the different kinds of icons and representations that can now be on display. All of the figures in the lower register had fought for the supremacy of orthodoxy, with some of them becoming martyrs for the cause. Interestingly, though, some of the figures depicted were not born by 843, setting the timeline of this image in a more abstract space. Because of this, the piece becomes less about the specific historical moment of the triumph of Orthodoxy, and more about its impact on Byzantine history and development in the past, present, and future.
PENTCHEVA
Pentcheva’s discussion of the performative and sensorial aspects of the icon are reflected strongly in the Triumph. Pentcheva’s argument posits that icons were not seen as mere paintings but as an imprint, or typos, that “self-consciously draws attention to absence,
making it tangible, apprehensible through the senses” (p. 636). This multisensory aspect of the icon, in which “the icon is in fact a surface that resonates with sound, wind, light, touch, and smell” (p. 631)–is highlighted by the Triumph’s liturgical narrative. Its hierarchical arrangement of the Virgin and Child, saints, monks, and empress Theodora portray a sense of ceremony and ritual to the veneration of the Hedogetria icon. Placed within this setting, its gleaming gold and hieratic figures would have interacted with flickering lamps, incense, and chant, creating a performative experience of Orthodoxy’s victory. The image thus worked not simply as visual propaganda but as a full-bodied affirmation that the veneration of icons was sanctioned by both heaven and empire.
BRUBAKER
The Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy must be understood against the backdrop of the seventh-century crises that reshaped Byzantine religiosity and imperial ideology. Brubaker explains that the instability caused by Arab conquests and the loss of Byzantine territories created “a heightened sense of anxiety, including a belief that ‘the end of the world has arrived’” (p. 326). Because of this, Byzantines understood this period more as as iconomachy (an image struggle) rather than an iconoclasm. In this context, icons became increasingly significant as mediators of divine protection. By around 680 portraits of saints were treated like relics, making icons not just devotional objects but political symbols of survival and divine favor.
The Triumph of Orthodoxy icon visually affirms this development. By placing the Virgin and Child at the center, flanked by saints, clergy, and Empress Theodora, it declares that the victory of images is simultaneously the victory of Orthodoxy and of the empire itself. As Brubaker observes, the acts of Nicaea II and the restoration of 843 codified the belief that “to refuse to allow the portrayal of Christ was to reject his physical appearance on earth—in other words, it was to deny the incarnation” (p. 333). The icon therefore materializes a theological claim essential to imperial legitimacy: the empire was safeguarded because it upheld the truth of the Incarnation through images.
Demonstrating imperial power is also a central pillar of the Triumph. Brubaker records that in 843 the restoration of images was celebrated with “a formal procession from Blachernai to Hagia Sophia [...] followed by a solemn liturgy [...] later celebrated as the Feast of Orthodoxy” (p. 336). The icon participates in that same performative act; by highlighting Theodora’s role, it demonstrates how imperial authority became the guarantor of Orthodoxy. In effect, the crises of the seventh century had exposed the fragility of the empire, but the Triumph proclaims that stability had been restored, with icons as both theological proof and political emblem.
BARBER
The Triumph can be read in light of Barber’s central argument that post-Iconoclast art shifted from being understood as a site of transformation to becoming a site of desire. Barber critiques Thomas Mathews’s idea that icons enabled worshippers to be transformed into Christ, insisting instead that “the icon cannot have presence in the manner of the eucharistic gifts. It is essentially different from that which it depicts. This gap between the icon and its archetype marks a crucial difference between the Eucharist and the icon” (p.14)
Applying this to the Triumph icon, the image does not claim that Christ or the Virgin are physically present in the painted figures, nor does the icon hold transformational power. Instead, it marks absence—“the icon is the signifier of absence” (p. 15)—and invites the viewer to project their devotion into and desire of the holy figures. The Triumph icon, with its depiction of the Virgin and Child, saints, clerics, and Empress Theodora, becomes a “site of desire” in which the faithful could long for the holy presence that the image evokes but does not contain.
Barber also highlights how the separation of artefice–the appreciation of the icon as a work of art–and idolatry–the worship of the icon itself–was essential to post-Iconoclast theology: “After iconoclasm, art and worship are not to be confused” (p.16). The Triumph of Orthodoxy visually stages this theological settlement. Unlike the Eucharist, which truly transforms, the icon remains a formal likeness. Its function is to hold open the space of absence while affirming that Christian representation is possible because of the Incarnation.
FUNCTION
Function of the Icon Icons in Byzantine worship functioned as mediators between the human and the divine, not because they contained the holy in themselves, but because they opened a space for encounter.. Within liturgy and personal prayer, icons were kissed, censed, and processed, practices that made them active participants in worship while still distinct from the Eucharist, which alone was understood to embody true presence. In this way, icons sustained longing for the divine, shaping veneration as an act of devotion directed through, rather than into, the image. Function of the Piece This specific piece, however, served both a spiritual and political purpose. At the time of its creation at around 1400, the Byzantine Empire was its weakest point. The empire barely extended beyond the walls of Constantinople, having lost most of their territory to the Ottoman Turks which now surrounded the Byzantines on all sides. At a time of tremendous political instability, the empire aimed to call back to a triumphant, unifying time–even if it took place 600 years prior. Throughout the 150 years of Iconomachy starting with Leo III in 717, the common people of Byzantium generally maintained their Orthodox attachment to icons, despite imperial worries about the growing threat of the Islamic empire. When Empress Theodora established the triumph of Orthodoxy in 843, she reunified the differing perspectives of the empire (iconophiles and iconoclasts) under one supreme theological perspective, giving the people agency once again to venerate icons. In this image, primarily through its inclusion of Theodora and the child emperor Michael, imperial authority plays an important role, with the empress portrayed as the benevolent and powerful figure who was able to return icons–and thus their way of worship–to the people. This object from 1400 is thus calling back to a time of heightened imperial strength and unity, a reminder of the empire’s past glory and a promise of the better days that are to come.
CHALLENGING THE CANON
The Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy challenges the traditional canon of Byzantine art because it resists the idea of Byzantine images as timeless, static, and purely devotional. Instead, it is deeply historical and polemical, visually rooted in the heated debates of the eighth and ninth centuries. While the Western term iconoclasm suggests a simple “destruction of images,” the Byzantines themselves called the controversy the iconomachy, meaning the “image struggle.” This distinction is crucial: the dispute was not only about destroying images but about the very definition of what an image is and whether it could represent the divine.
The Triumph icon embodies the resolution of that struggle. By prominently displaying the Virgin and Child, flanked by saints, bishops, and Empress Theodora, the image does more than commemorate victory—it asserts that icons themselves are legitimate carriers of divine truth. In doing so, it reflects the iconophile argument that to deny the possibility of depicting Christ was to deny the Incarnation itself. Rather than being a passive work, the icon becomes an active statement in theological and political discourse, showing how Byzantine art was entangled with empire, worship, and controversy. In this way, the Triumph of Orthodoxy icon challenges the canon by revealing Byzantine art as historically engaged, performative, and deeply responsive to the ideological battles of its time.
QUESTIONS
1. How, if at all, did Theodora’s re-establishment of Orthodoxy elevate female agency within the empire? 2. How long did these effects last?
How did future empresses interact with theology and orthodoxy after Theodora’s death? Was an expectation established that the empress would be the protector of Orthodoxy? 3. How were icons used in other political functions c. 1400 in order to portray the resiliency of the empire at its weakest moment?
Icon with the Triumph of Orthodoxy , c. 1400 (Byzantine), tempera and gold on wood, 39 x 31 cm (The British Museum, London)
Elizabeth Burnell
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Transcript
CHALLENGING THE CANON
PENTCHEVA
BRUBAKER
BARBER
Icon with the Triumph of Orthodoxy, c. 1400 (Byzantine), tempera and gold on wood, 39 x 31 cm (The British Museum, London)
HODEGETRIA
The wood panel, covered in a shimmering gold leaf, is divided into two registers which together tell the story of the restoration of images in Byzantium in 843 following the Iconoclasm. The upper register is dominated by an icon being held by two angels–an icon within the icon. The particular icon being displayed within the border of red drapery is the Hodegetria, a depiction of Mary with the Christ Child in her right hand, and her left hand pointing to him as the “Guide” to salvation. Mary is also shown with a sullen and sorrowful countenance, as if looking ahead to her son’s eventual crucifixion. The Hodegetria takes on particular importance in Constantinople, as iconophiles believed the image was painted by the Evangelist St. Luke. The Hodegetria became a popular iconographic depiction of Mary, with each copy carrying the same perceived power as St. Luke’s original, functioning as a conduit for prayer.
LOWER REGISTER
The lower register features 11 priests and monks, all facing inward to draw the viewer’s eye to the Hodegetria. Some of the figures themselves hold objects or icons, once again communicating the proliferation of images that the imperial family is facilitating. Noticeably, there is only one woman, the Nun Theodosia, who is the leftmost figure within the holy lineup. She holds an icon that, like the image she is within, is covered in goldleaf. The cross design on the nimbus indicates that this is an image of Christ, a display of the different kinds of icons and representations that can now be on display. All of the figures in the lower register had fought for the supremacy of orthodoxy, with some of them becoming martyrs for the cause. Interestingly, though, some of the figures depicted were not born by 843, setting the timeline of this image in a more abstract space. Because of this, the piece becomes less about the specific historical moment of the triumph of Orthodoxy, and more about its impact on Byzantine history and development in the past, present, and future.
PENTCHEVA
Pentcheva’s discussion of the performative and sensorial aspects of the icon are reflected strongly in the Triumph. Pentcheva’s argument posits that icons were not seen as mere paintings but as an imprint, or typos, that “self-consciously draws attention to absence, making it tangible, apprehensible through the senses” (p. 636). This multisensory aspect of the icon, in which “the icon is in fact a surface that resonates with sound, wind, light, touch, and smell” (p. 631)–is highlighted by the Triumph’s liturgical narrative. Its hierarchical arrangement of the Virgin and Child, saints, monks, and empress Theodora portray a sense of ceremony and ritual to the veneration of the Hedogetria icon. Placed within this setting, its gleaming gold and hieratic figures would have interacted with flickering lamps, incense, and chant, creating a performative experience of Orthodoxy’s victory. The image thus worked not simply as visual propaganda but as a full-bodied affirmation that the veneration of icons was sanctioned by both heaven and empire.
BRUBAKER
The Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy must be understood against the backdrop of the seventh-century crises that reshaped Byzantine religiosity and imperial ideology. Brubaker explains that the instability caused by Arab conquests and the loss of Byzantine territories created “a heightened sense of anxiety, including a belief that ‘the end of the world has arrived’” (p. 326). Because of this, Byzantines understood this period more as as iconomachy (an image struggle) rather than an iconoclasm. In this context, icons became increasingly significant as mediators of divine protection. By around 680 portraits of saints were treated like relics, making icons not just devotional objects but political symbols of survival and divine favor. The Triumph of Orthodoxy icon visually affirms this development. By placing the Virgin and Child at the center, flanked by saints, clergy, and Empress Theodora, it declares that the victory of images is simultaneously the victory of Orthodoxy and of the empire itself. As Brubaker observes, the acts of Nicaea II and the restoration of 843 codified the belief that “to refuse to allow the portrayal of Christ was to reject his physical appearance on earth—in other words, it was to deny the incarnation” (p. 333). The icon therefore materializes a theological claim essential to imperial legitimacy: the empire was safeguarded because it upheld the truth of the Incarnation through images. Demonstrating imperial power is also a central pillar of the Triumph. Brubaker records that in 843 the restoration of images was celebrated with “a formal procession from Blachernai to Hagia Sophia [...] followed by a solemn liturgy [...] later celebrated as the Feast of Orthodoxy” (p. 336). The icon participates in that same performative act; by highlighting Theodora’s role, it demonstrates how imperial authority became the guarantor of Orthodoxy. In effect, the crises of the seventh century had exposed the fragility of the empire, but the Triumph proclaims that stability had been restored, with icons as both theological proof and political emblem.
BARBER
The Triumph can be read in light of Barber’s central argument that post-Iconoclast art shifted from being understood as a site of transformation to becoming a site of desire. Barber critiques Thomas Mathews’s idea that icons enabled worshippers to be transformed into Christ, insisting instead that “the icon cannot have presence in the manner of the eucharistic gifts. It is essentially different from that which it depicts. This gap between the icon and its archetype marks a crucial difference between the Eucharist and the icon” (p.14) Applying this to the Triumph icon, the image does not claim that Christ or the Virgin are physically present in the painted figures, nor does the icon hold transformational power. Instead, it marks absence—“the icon is the signifier of absence” (p. 15)—and invites the viewer to project their devotion into and desire of the holy figures. The Triumph icon, with its depiction of the Virgin and Child, saints, clerics, and Empress Theodora, becomes a “site of desire” in which the faithful could long for the holy presence that the image evokes but does not contain. Barber also highlights how the separation of artefice–the appreciation of the icon as a work of art–and idolatry–the worship of the icon itself–was essential to post-Iconoclast theology: “After iconoclasm, art and worship are not to be confused” (p.16). The Triumph of Orthodoxy visually stages this theological settlement. Unlike the Eucharist, which truly transforms, the icon remains a formal likeness. Its function is to hold open the space of absence while affirming that Christian representation is possible because of the Incarnation.
FUNCTION
Function of the Icon Icons in Byzantine worship functioned as mediators between the human and the divine, not because they contained the holy in themselves, but because they opened a space for encounter.. Within liturgy and personal prayer, icons were kissed, censed, and processed, practices that made them active participants in worship while still distinct from the Eucharist, which alone was understood to embody true presence. In this way, icons sustained longing for the divine, shaping veneration as an act of devotion directed through, rather than into, the image. Function of the Piece This specific piece, however, served both a spiritual and political purpose. At the time of its creation at around 1400, the Byzantine Empire was its weakest point. The empire barely extended beyond the walls of Constantinople, having lost most of their territory to the Ottoman Turks which now surrounded the Byzantines on all sides. At a time of tremendous political instability, the empire aimed to call back to a triumphant, unifying time–even if it took place 600 years prior. Throughout the 150 years of Iconomachy starting with Leo III in 717, the common people of Byzantium generally maintained their Orthodox attachment to icons, despite imperial worries about the growing threat of the Islamic empire. When Empress Theodora established the triumph of Orthodoxy in 843, she reunified the differing perspectives of the empire (iconophiles and iconoclasts) under one supreme theological perspective, giving the people agency once again to venerate icons. In this image, primarily through its inclusion of Theodora and the child emperor Michael, imperial authority plays an important role, with the empress portrayed as the benevolent and powerful figure who was able to return icons–and thus their way of worship–to the people. This object from 1400 is thus calling back to a time of heightened imperial strength and unity, a reminder of the empire’s past glory and a promise of the better days that are to come.
CHALLENGING THE CANON
The Icon of the Triumph of Orthodoxy challenges the traditional canon of Byzantine art because it resists the idea of Byzantine images as timeless, static, and purely devotional. Instead, it is deeply historical and polemical, visually rooted in the heated debates of the eighth and ninth centuries. While the Western term iconoclasm suggests a simple “destruction of images,” the Byzantines themselves called the controversy the iconomachy, meaning the “image struggle.” This distinction is crucial: the dispute was not only about destroying images but about the very definition of what an image is and whether it could represent the divine. The Triumph icon embodies the resolution of that struggle. By prominently displaying the Virgin and Child, flanked by saints, bishops, and Empress Theodora, the image does more than commemorate victory—it asserts that icons themselves are legitimate carriers of divine truth. In doing so, it reflects the iconophile argument that to deny the possibility of depicting Christ was to deny the Incarnation itself. Rather than being a passive work, the icon becomes an active statement in theological and political discourse, showing how Byzantine art was entangled with empire, worship, and controversy. In this way, the Triumph of Orthodoxy icon challenges the canon by revealing Byzantine art as historically engaged, performative, and deeply responsive to the ideological battles of its time.
QUESTIONS
1. How, if at all, did Theodora’s re-establishment of Orthodoxy elevate female agency within the empire? 2. How long did these effects last? How did future empresses interact with theology and orthodoxy after Theodora’s death? Was an expectation established that the empress would be the protector of Orthodoxy? 3. How were icons used in other political functions c. 1400 in order to portray the resiliency of the empire at its weakest moment?