Between the third and sixth centuries, the ancient gods, goddesses, and heroes who had populated the imagination of humankind for a millennium were replaced by a new imagery of Christ and his saints. Thomas Mathews explores the many different, often surprising, artistic images and religious interpretations of Christ during this period. He challenges the accepted theory of the "Emperor Mystique," which, interpreting Christ as king, derives the vocabulary of Christian art from the propagandistic imagery of the Roman emperor. This revised edition contains a new preface by the author and a new chapter on the origin and development of icons in private domestic cult.
Thomas F. Mathews is John Langeloth Loeb Professor in the History of Art at New York University's Institute of Fine Arts. The author of numerous books on Byzantine art, including The Clash of Gods, Treasures in Heaven, and The Byzantine Churches of Istanbul, he is also a contributor to The Glory of Byzantium (Yale University Press).
It is now a common assumption in the art-historical world that much of early Christian art (particularly from the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries) portrays the Roman Emperor as some sort of demigod and intercessor between our world and that of the divine, imbued with ultimate power. This is what the author called "Emperor Mystique." In fact, this idea might even shore up the even more commonly held belief that the Church and the state were united for much of the middle ages. In "The Clash of Gods," Mathews critically examines this assumption and comes to what I thought were some fascinating conclusions.
According to Mathews, it is largely the work of three scholars that is responsible for the rise of the Emperor Mystique: art historian Andre Grabar, medievalist Ernst Kantorowicz, and archaeologist Andreas Alfoldi. Along with collectively contributing to the Emperor Mystique, they come from Czarist Russia, Wilhelmine Germany, and the Austro-Hungarian Empire respectively, and all harbored a great love for imperial greatness and yearned, in some way, for its return. In order to do this, they all retroactively read signs of vanished empire into the early Christian art they were studying. As Mathews says, "The need to interpret Christ as an Emperor tells us more about the historians involve d than it does about Early Christian art" (16). The scholarly apparatus that Mathews brings to bear on his argument is impressive. The vast majority of the book looks at individual pieces of art, arguing for an interpretation against that of the Emperor Mystique, none of which I will recapitulate here. It could even be convincing, but I will confess to not knowing enough about the art of the period in question to say one way or another.
One thing that I can say is that Mathew's argument seems to exhort the reader into an either/or reaction toward the three aforementioned scholars. As Peter Brown, the Princeton professor of the post-Constantinian Christian world, said in a review of the same book, Mathews thinks that "either representations of Christ betray artistic conventions that must mirror faithfully the visual content of contemporary court ceremonials and imperial representations - and, further, must communicate the overbearing message associated with such ceremonials and representations - or they communicate, often, the exact opposite."
Another tacit assumption of the book that Mathews does nothing to repudiate is that the thesis would, in some ways, suggest that we dismiss not only the Emperor Mystique, but also the entire body of scholarship of Kantorowicz, Grabar, and Alfoldi. Grabar and Alfoldi might not be as read today, but Kantorowicz's "The King's Two Bodies" is still considered an indispensable text in historical medieval theology. I certainly do not want to suggest that the book is a hatchet job. It is not. I think Mathews achieves something lastingly important by giving us a book-length treatment that resists what is still, in some quarters, a widely held assumption. I would just regret to see this book read as something more than an unfortunate interpretive misreading that was made by a group of otherwise superb, astoundingly learned scholars.
What if icons mean the opposite of what you've always been taught? The Clash of Gods by Thomas F. Mathews makes such an argument. Throughout the 20th-century, most art historians have claimed that early images of Jesus borrowed from imperial images. However, Mathews, in this brilliant book, shows that early images of Jesus actually portrayed him as a god, thus putting him in competition with the pagan gods, not the emperors. In fact, images of Jesus as a donkey, as a seated bearded philosopher, as a magician with a wand, and as a beardless young man with breasts, all distanced Christ from the emperors. (Yes, these were all famous images of Christ in Late Antiquity!) Early Christians created these images of Christ to emphasize Nicene Christology: Jesus is "light of light, true God of true God." This well-written book explains how we should understand these ancient images and how they helped in the "Christian triumph" over paganism. No one who has an interest in the history of Christianity can afford to ignore this thought-provoking and persuasive book.
Mathews wants to turn the study of early Christian Art on it's head by denying the prevailing idea that early Christians drew on imperial images as their source material when creating these early Christian images. While he is right that blindly following any single theory leads to problems his solution is to totally dismiss imperial sources and look to images of earlier gods as sources. This either/or decision undermines this book for me. But, hopefully, this book will produce much discussion and force people to go back and look again at images that do not fit so neatly in the little boxes provided by the old theories.
"To dress Christ as an emperor was to make him a devil."
I read this book for class and actually managed to finish it in about two days. Mathews questions the widely-accepted view that Christ is depicted as an imperial ruler in early Christian art, and instead proposes the exact opposite: that depictions of Christ purposely distance him from Roman imperial authority. It was a refreshing view on a nearly 100-year-old concept, and it was also well-written and never unnecessarily complicated (like much academic writing tends to be).
A good book, and certainly one I'll take with me into future research!
A delight to read, which is not often the case when it comes to art history. Mathews tears apart the prevailing interpretive trend (namely, that Christian art derived its power from similarity to Roman imperial propaganda). He is ruthless, which is fun. His proposed alternative (that Christian art transcended various human experiences, that the early Christ of art is "God for the common man") is quaint and attractive, but perhaps wishful thinking.
Peter Brown wrote a scathing review, which is equally fun.
I''m glad someone is thinking critically about historical assumptions made about art, but Mathews spends more time saying that Imperial interpretations of Christ are overstated than he does actually taking a good look at his evidence. Many of his claims are excessively dramatic and later disproved by some other dramatic claim. Overall irritating to read because of his rebellious style that goes (at the least) partially unsupported. Good premise though.
I really liked his ideas. My only complaint is that the images are scattered throughout the book, which made it a pain to find when he referenced them (frequently).