Archetype and Symbol : Thoughts on the Creative Act

BY FR. SILOUAN JUSTINIANO ON MARCH 12, 2013

This is post 1 of 2 in the series “Archetype and Symbol”
Fr. Silouan explores the possibility of creativity and the creative act within an Orthodox theological frame.
A year ago a friend visited our monastery for a few days. At the time we had a conversation about sacred art and the process of expressing archetypal realities in iconography.
Recently he wrote to me asking, “Have you come across anything… that has shed any light on the question? The question, as I understood it then, was how one moves from a
vision of Reality to its artistic expression, especially considering that the one is intelligible and invisible, and the other sensible, visual. I would be interested to hear… what new
insights with regards to this topic you have gained over the past many months.” The following are the thoughts I wrote back to him.

St.Luke Painting the Theotokos

Dear Christopher,
It is a question about the “creative act” in iconography, the icon being the symbol that manifests the archetype. In most of the
literature about icon painting you encounter a retelling of the conciliar and patristic definition of the icon- its theology in light of
the Incarnation. It is less common to encounter writings on the artistic side of the matter, that is, the kind of thinking and process
of formal articulation that unfolds in the painter as he works, a noetic work.  It goes without saying that, since it is an inner work,
it is mostly shrouded in mystery. Within the Orthodox tradition there seems to be little available on the topic, at least in English
translations. The Hindu and Buddhist tradition delve into these matters more clearly, with a history of clearly defined aesthetics
(See Coomaraswamy, Dance of Shiva). They’ve been around for a while so they’ve had the time to elaborate things a bit more
thoroughly. Anyhow, the question is always in the back of my mind. I’m always looking for information on the topic, so far
Coomaraswamy has been the most helpful. Let’s look at three things that touch on the subject.
First, the question of the “creative act” is generally looked at in light of the Western infatuation with innovation in the arts and the
cult of personality. In short, artistic “creativity” as such is confused with “imagination” and this is in turn confused with fantasy,
and is therefore suspect.  Second, there is a tendency to overemphasise the unity of the iconographic style across the centuries.
Authors do this generally by contrasting an Orthodox icon of the Theotokos, with the multiplicity of styles in Renaissance
Madonnas, as a way of stressing that icon painting is based on tradition, whereas the West tends to lean heavily on “artistic
creativity” or innovation. The point being of course that Tradition does not change. Nevertheless, we know that traditions
express the Tradition in a variety of ways. If we look closely we learn that there are many icon painting schools, each with its
own style according to local or national  temperament. And within these schools different iconographers express the canon in
unique, individual ways, even though they do so according the general and immutable iconographic principles that tie all the
schools together.
Even though it happens in small increments, changes do occur in the formal expression of Tradition, forms are not static. When
I say “forms” I mean “inessentials.” The “creative act” within iconography is a paradoxical, since within the so called restriction
and constraints of Tradition true freedom is found. The Holy Spirit inspires and guides the hand of the iconographer in unique
ways within the perimeters of immutable principles. In Pentecost the Spirit enabled the Apostles to speak in different tongues
and those gathered in Jerusalem at the time from different nations were able to hear the Gospel in their own language. There
was, and there is still in the Church, through the same Spirit, unity in diversity. So likewise, there is a kind of “artistic Pentecost”
in iconography, as Aidan Hart has noted, in which we find many styles speaking as different tongues, otherwise there would not
be a living Tradition. Finally, the Archetype or Idea is never divorced from its particularised manifestation, but it is rather
immanent in it. It is crucial that we maintain this fact, otherwise we fall into dualism, and a metaphysics counter to the
Incarnation- the Transcendent in the immanent par excellence. A tree is an actual substantial instance of its archetypal nature-
“treeness”. The idea resides in the Logos, but we should not think of it merely as being in another world, disconnected from us.
Rather, it is manifested in front of us, in a sensible manner, in the form of this one tree. As an object of sense perception it is a
“theophany” of the Logos in this level of reality, and as such it is in fact a symbol. So what then can we say of the “creative act”?
How can we express these archetypes?
Traditional icon painting has a precise formal language, general principles of line, colour, form, composition, rhythm, etc.,  which
guide us in articulating the archetypes. As in all sacred art, these principles help to transcend the limitations of personal and
cultural expression, yet on the other hand, do not completely stifle these. The general principles are the tools, the grammar to
articulate the message of this refined dimension of reality. These principles have been tried and tested by centuries and they
have arisen out of the creative struggle of the iconographers, in cooperation with the Holy Spirit.  The stylisation of icon painting
is a form of anagogic painting that helps uplift the soul to the noetic vision of archetypes. It does this in the depicting of nature by
removing its temporal, accidental, merely fleeting and naturalistic or sensible aspects, thereby abstracting the universal from the
particular. If we look at the traditional forms of sacred art around the world we find that there is a tendency to simplify, stylise or
abstract form, purify line and a general tendency towards things geometric. In other words, there is a general tendency to arrive
at the essential and universal- archetypes.
Since the archetype is present in its substantial, or particularised manifestation, there is no need to wait for a miraculous
“illumination ” to experience the “archetypal world”- it is here and now in front of our eyes. We do not have to experience a flight
to another dimension disconnected from the thing to be depicted. The canonical forms are an illumination. The “creative act”
then is not one of psychic arbitrary choices, but one of intellection (noetic vision) guided by tradition. This intellection unfolds
internally as a process of editing formal choices, to arrive at a structure or solution to a given artistic problem, and is first made
manifest in the articulation of the drawing. Drawing is the mirror of the intellect. The traditional canon of icon painting gives us
sign posts, so to speak, paramiters from which we can edit and make choices in the form of a collection of images which have
been unanimously acknowledged as clear intellections- the prototypes. These are to be held in the heart through the faculty of
memory. If there is not enough in the archive of the memory, than prototypes and the various examples of the master
iconographers are an indispensable aid. Also, the various manuals that have come down to us have instructions and
descriptions that tend to be at times too general, cursory and vague, leaving the iconographer ample room to make creative
decisions.
The forms of the traditional canon can help us express the treeness of a tree for example, but you will notice, as said above, that
these forms are flexible. A tree painted by a Novgorod master in Russia will differ considerably from one depicted by a Cretan
master. Nevertheless both of these masters worked within the tradition in such a way that they internalised the general
principles  and the prototypes in such a way that they did not have to merely copy mechanically the work of their predecessors.
They were true to themselves and their historical moment without being merely individualistic or betraying the tradition. They
worked creatively from spiritual vision.

Old Russian Tree, 14th century

Old Russian Tree. 15th-16th century

Internalisation of general principles and the prototypes gives rise to creative spiritual vision. The various traditional forms of
sacred art around the world acknowledge the necessity of divine intervention in the creative process of craftsmanship. So do
we; it is understood that an iconographer should live a holy life in cooperation with the Holy Spirit who guides his work
and prayer is crucial to purify the mind for the creative act. As Coomaraswamy notes (Dance of Shiva) in the Hindu tradition,
various prayers, fasting, rituals, offerings, etc., had to be performed in order to prepare the craftsman to do his work. There was
also a process of visualisation performed by the craftsman that lead to the vision of the deity which he was to depict. The vision
became the pattern, or archetype, he was to depict. Craftsmanship then acquired the status of a kind of yoga.
.
Needless to say, this is not the internalisation the icon painter is to seek. Not all iconographers will have lofty spiritual
experiences or a revelatory vision to use as a pattern for an icon. In the Orthodox tradition the spiritual experience of the fathers,
and holy iconographers, the inspired canonical forms, become the patterns to be depicted. Nevertheless, the Hindu tradition as
just described reminds us of the necessity of visualisation in the creative process. Here I do not mean the fantasy or the so-
called meditation or “spiritual  exercises” of Layola. Rather, what I have in mind is the account of the Russian chronicle which
describes Theophanes the Greek at work. We are told that he was not like the other iconographers of his time, who hesitated
and thought things over for ever, before drawing a line or choosing a colour. Theophanes would draw and paint energetically
directly on the wall, without looking at the prototypes, as he discussed theological and philosophical matters. He had memorised
and internalised the general principles and prototypes of icon painting, in such a way that enabled him to interpret them readily,
without hesitation. In his mind (nous) a process of intellection unfolded, an editing of the immense corpus of images in his heart
(from nature and canonical types). He had a clear  noetic visualisation of the image before it was executed as drawing. This
process of intellection worked in conjunction with the imagination (image memory capacity of the soul). Seen by some, because
of a misreading of patristic passages, as a negative capacity,  and confused with fantasy, the imagination, we often forget, is
crucial for any creative activity of manufacture or craftsmanship. In the case of Theophanes, the imagination was being used as
the middle realm of creative activity which it is (between sense and spiritual perception), in him being imprinted as wax from
above (the prototypes) not from bellow (impassioned provocation).

Theophanes’ facility and authority in his craft can be seen as purely a gift of genius, but I believe that the skill he had can be
arrived at by arduous effort. He can be seen as the ideal of internalisation. Not  all iconographers will arrive at this level of
“creative act” but they can derive from him a method of self-training. This would involve the memorisation of the prototypes and
general formal principles of the canon, repeated drawing after the best samples in the tradition, and drawing after nature. The
goal is clarity of vision by acquiring a vast memory of images from which to draw from in the creative act. This would liberate the
painter from having to be constrained by the interpretation of a former iconographer or mechanical copying.
Theophanes might appear to be almost mythical in stature and too far removed from our own time, but a contemporary
iconographer that is suggestive of him is George Kordis, an Assistant Professor of Iconography (Theory and Practice) at the
University of Athens. I’ve seen videos of him at work directly on the walls of a Church as he articulates the composition. He
works from memory, blocking the figures in fairly rapidly with charcoal. His work displays a clear, personally unique style,
expressive in nature, yet remains throughly traditional. Kordis demonstrates that icon painting is not merely a “mechanical craft,”
but an art involving creative imagination, full of possibilities a living tradition.  I was given the opportunity to meet him in South
Carolina last summer and asked him about the secret of his method. He advised me to read his book, Icon as Communion: The
ideals and Compositional Principles of Icon Painting, a manual that explores the role of line and the thought underlying the
Byzantine artistic system, how it is expressed in the handling of the face, the human figure and composition. I told him I had
read the book and at the end of the conversation he just emphasised: “Draw just draw.”
 

George Kordis At Work

In the end, I would say that internalisation of the general principles of icon painting, leading to inner vision, and mastery of
drawing, are indispensable tools. From these we can develop eyes that see in the particulars of nature the universal, enabling
us to artistically express, or make manifest, the intellection of archetypes.

Archetype and Symbol II: On Noetic Vision

In the contemplation of created beings the cosmos is perceived as a “burning bush” of God’s glory.
 
Archetype and Symbol II:
On Noetic Vision   
Upon reading the article Archetype and Symbol: Thoughts on the Creative Act, my friend wrote asking me to clarify a few things.
The following article qualifies the term “ noetic vision of archetypes,” re-examines the notion of “abstracting the universal from
the particulars,” and expands on the role of the geometric in iconographic representation.
Dear C.,
I should begin by a clarification of the term, “noetic vision of archetypes.” The term “noetic vision” might be confused with the
notion of contemplation, a word that has to be interpreted in context and which tends to conjure up so many vague ideas that it
becomes almost meaningless.  Lets look at some definitions.
The state of contemplation (theoria), as described by the fathers of the Philokalia, is a perception or vision of the nous (intellect),
through which spiritual knowledge is obtained; it is not of our own doing, but is granted by grace to the pure of heart.
Contemplation in this sense is usually divided into two main stages: vision of the inner principles (logoi/archetypes), or hidden
nature of created beings, and theology proper, the vision of God.[i] Origen gives as an example of the first stage Isaac, who is,
“an exponent of natural philosophy, when he digs wells and searches out the root of things.”[ii] He sees the second stage
exemplified in Moses, who entered the dark cloud and beheld the burning bush, Paul, who in ecstasy saw the third heaven, and
St. John the theologian who leaned on the Lord’s bosom and received the Revelation.[iii]

Contemplation presupposes praxis, the active life of virtue, nepsis or watchfulness, repentance, purification from the passions,
perfection of Christian love and requires detachment. As Ilias the Presbyter says in his Gnomic Anthology, “The inner principles
of corporeal things are concealed like bones within objects apprehended by the senses: no one who has not transcended
attachment to sensible things can see them.”[iv] As to a description of the first stage, “natural contemplation,” I have not been
able to find a detailed account of this experience. That is, so far I have not encountered a vivid “picture” description, so to speak,
of what takes place and is seen. It also involves going beyond the realm of thoughts and discursive reasoning.[v] As St. Peter of
Damascus says, a result of contemplation is the knowledge of, “the purpose for which each thing was created.”[vi]
The term “noetic vision of the archetypes” should not be taken to mean contemplation as a “miraculous experience” as noted in
the previous letter. The heights of contemplation as delineated above are something beyond my capability to talk about and
describe, since I have not apprehended them. The aim in using the term “noetic vision” is to emphasise that icon painting
involves the use of the noetic faculty as the steering agent in the creative act. Through its spiritual knowledge, which is clear
vision, it guides our reasoning, imagination, and manufacturing skill in an intuitive manner. There is direct knowledge of the
archetypes and there is knowledge by transmission, both are a form of noetic vision as I will discuss shortly.
Nevertheless, in another sense, it can be said that contemplation is more accessible and that in fact we have experienced it. Not
as the “miraculous” occurrence we tend to associate it with, but as the illumination of the mysteriological life of the Church, in
partaking of the Logos in the Eucharist, “…He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them, then their eyes were
opened…”[vii] Hereby we begin to see creation and the Scriptures as symbols, perceiving their inner meaning, in ways that
those who have not taken the waters of Baptism fail to. We begin to see creation as a theophany, as a burning bush, radiating
and enflamed by the divine presence, but not consumed. In the Transfiguration the eyes of the disciples were opened, and they
were able to see the uncreated light of the Lords divinity, shining through His resplendent garments. So in the Church, to various
degrees, we are able to see Him through the “garments” of creation and the Scriptures.

He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them, then their eyes were opened…
As St. Maximos says, “the mystery of the incarnation of the Logos is the key to all arcane symbolism…”[viii] The veil is removed
in Christ as St. Paul tells us. In other words, we can say that there are degrees or stages of contemplation from glory to glory,
according to our level of receptivity. In fact, St. Peter of Damaskos speaks of eight and describes what they entail. While, I might
not have “experienced” that stage, which appears so lofty that it almost seems unreachable, the Lord every day guides us,
instructs us, gives us inklings or intuitions and opens our understanding through the Spirit, as He did the disciples after the
Resurrection. This illumination of the initiated faithful is so close to us that we take it for granted, as we take for granted that, “In
Him we live and move and have our being.”[ix] Perhaps, we ignore these noetic visions because we are looking for great signs
and wonders.
Be that as it may, we can also simply speak of contemplation as the activity of “being mindful” or “pondering things in the heart,”
not according to their outward appearance, but according to the “bones”, so to speak, of the inner meaning or spiritual reality
they manifest. This is I think why St. Dionysios calls the various interpretations of the mysteries in The Ecclesial Hierarchy a
“contemplation” and why St. Germanus’ treatise interpreting the Divine Liturgy is called, Ecclesial History and Mystical
Contemplation (theoria). Simply put, the “uplifting explanations,” as St. Dyonisios would say, of the symbols, are
“contemplations.” I think this puts us in a better place to qualify the term “noetic vision” as something less removed and
inaccessible. Talking about both the exalted and accessible nature of contemplation Metropolitan Kalistos Ware says, “It is
common to regard contemplation as a rare and exalted gift, and so no doubt it is in its plenitude. Yet the seeds of a
contemplative attitude exist in all of us. From this hour and moment I can start to walk through the world, conscious that it is
God’s world, that He is near me in everything that I see and touch, in everyone whom I encounter. However spasmodically and
incompletely I do this I have already set foot upon the contemplative path”[x]
Yet, in qualifying “noetic vision” as something less removed than what we usually expect, we should not oversimplify matters.
When it comes to the creative act, the tension of proximity and distance as an integral part of this mystery should always be
maintained and kept in mind. Therefore, in speaking of the “noetic vision of the archetypes” we mean both a “removed”
experience of direct knowledge granted from above, and the more “accessible” apprehension of the inner meaning of the
pictorial language of the icon as symbol. That is, as symbol uniting two levels of Reality, celestial and earthly, the material icon
is a manifestation of noetic vision and as such transmitted knowledge.  The “removed” mystical experience is described in the
glossary of the English translation of the Philokalia as follows, “One of the goals of the spiritual life is indeed the attainment of
spiritual knowledge which transcends both ordinary consciousness and the subconscious; and it is true that images, especially
when the recipient is in an advanced spiritual state, may well be projections, on the plane of the imagination of celestial
archetypes, and that in this case they can be used creatively, to form the images of sacred art in iconography. But more than not
they will derive from the middle or lower sphere, and will have nothing spiritual about them. Hence they correspond to the world
of fantasy and not to the world of the imagination in the proper sense.”[xi]

Prophetic Vision can be described as the imprinting of a celestial archetype unto the purified imaginative faculty of the prophet.
In other words, this description confirms that what we see in some icons is in fact a vision reified, a “re-presentation” of a model,
or a “pattern” seen on the “mountain”[xii] of the imagination, in the middle realm, between the celestial and sensible spheres. On
the one hand, here the celestial archetypes mentioned, could be understood as an image manifestations of logoi, in a level more
intelligible than sensible. On the other hand, they can be seen as images in the sense the prophets apprehended them in their
visions. As mentioned in the previous letter, not every iconographer will have this lofty experience. But once the celestial
archetypes have been incorporated into the iconographic canon as prototypes, they are once again projected through the icon,
and when internalised, being kept and “pondered within the heart,” they in turn become imprinted in our imagination. Guarded
from fantasy by the canon, we can then become “mindful of” the imprinted celestial archetype in the process of iconography,
and use it creatively in the painting of a new icon. As symbol the icon manifests the vision, and when we gaze at its anagogic
depiction, we are uplifted to the apprehension of the celestial archetypes. Throughout the whole process, beginning at the initial
projection of the image of celestial archetypes and ending in its third stage of re-presentation, noetic vision is involved, both in
its “removed” and “accessible” sense.
When it comes to the more accessible dimension of noetic vision, or transmitted knowledge, there arises a need to clarify the
term “archetype.” In this context the term does not carry the connotation of logoi or the celestial realm, but simply means a
pattern to follow in the execution of an icon. To clarify this lets briefly look at C. Cavarnos’ appendix of The Guide to Byzantine
Iconography: Volume Two, titled, “Saint Nectarios of Aegina on Types in Iconography.”[xiii] St. Nectarios notes that, from the
very beginnings in the life of the Church, certain events and  personages, as those seen in the catacombs from the 2nd to the
4th century, became standardised into hieratic types, prescribed for the use of artists, and acceptable conveyers of a hidden
spiritual teaching recommended to the faithful.[xiv] These types soon became canonical and predominantly unalterable, but also
went through slight variations over the centuries.
 The articulation of an ancient type/archetype throughout the centuries.
As C. Cavarnos says, St. Nectarios, “…adds that the choice of subjects made from the accounts in the Bible for the formation of
compositions and types for Christian art was automatically new. It was freely directed by the spirit and the system of symbolism
of the Gospels and the writings of the Apostles.”[xv]  After this passage Cavarnos introduces the term “archetype” by quoting
Kontouglou who says, “The archetypes of Byzantine iconography are the result of centuries of spiritual life, Christian experience,
genius and work. The iconographers who developed them regarded their work as awesome, like the dogmas of the Faith, and
they worked, with humility and piety, on types that had been handed down to them by earlier iconographers, avoiding all
inopportune and inappropriate changes. Through long elaboration, these various representations were freed from everything
superfluous and inconstant, and attained the greatest and most perfect expression and power.”[xvi] In this passage the focus is
not on the celestial archetypes as such, as described above, but on “a formation of archetypes from early types.” That is, a
gradual canonical standardization of prototypes. The words archetype and “prototype” are then equivalents in this context, as a
given pattern to follow, a kind of transmitted knowledge. As it will be shown below the “long elaboration” Kontouglou mentions, in
which “everything superfluous and inconstant” is shed, involves what I would call the transfiguration of sense-perception.

Different styles, yet immutable idea.

St. Nektarios in discussing the origin and development of the canon is mainly concerned with the process of articulation based
on the Scriptures, the Gospel and Apostles. In short, Tradition, the “spirit and the system of symbolism of the Gospels” directed
the articulation. This of course, as pointed out by Kontouglou, involved centuries of spiritual life and arduous labor to arrive at
“perfect expression.” Also, St. Nectarios, might be implying divine inspiration when he says that early Christian art was
“automatically new,” rather than a matter of purely historical influences, but his focus is predominantly on the guidance of the
Church through Tradition.

Variation guided by Tradition.

We see here more of an accessible approach to noetic vision, as the fruit of a creative process, involving the faithful’s collective effort, to arrive at the proper
symbolic visual language that conforms to the spirit of living Tradition. This collective effort in turn reflects and communicates the apprehension of the inner
meaning of the life of the Church, what St. Nektarios calls the esoteric or “hidden spiritual teaching,” which is then given visual form as reified vision. But in
essence this “hidden spiritual teaching” contained in the symbolism of the Tradition is the ultimate celestial Archetype manifested therein, the incarnate Logos, the
“mystery hidden before the ages.”[xvii] The apprehension of the inner meaning of life in the Church is a noetic vision which guides creative act, although not in
the same sense of a sudden imprinting from above as described previously. As it will be shown, it rather involves a climbing, as by a ladder, from sense-
perception (below) to things intelligible (above) through the imaginative faculty.

Notes:
[i] See Glossary in The Philokalia Vol. Three, Faber and Faber, Inc., London and Boston, 1984,
pp.356-57.

[ii] As quoted in The Westminster Handbook to Origen, edited by John McGuckin, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville and
London, 2004, p.82.
[iii] Ibid.
[iv] The Philokalia Vol. Three, Faber and Faber, Inc., London and Boston, 1984, p.58.
[v] St. Justin Popovich says, “ In the philosophy of the holy fathers, contemplation has an ontological, ethical, and gnoseological
significance. It means prayerful concentration of the soul, through the action of grace, on the mysteries that surpass our
understanding and are abundantly present not only in the Holy Trinity but in the person of man himself and in the whole of God’s
creation. In contemplation, the person of the ascetic of faith lives above the senses, above the categories of time and space. He
has a vivid awareness of the links that bind him to the higher world and is nourished by revelations that contain that which ‘eye
has not seen nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of men.’(1 Cor.2: 9)” St. Justin Popovich, Orthodox Faith and
Life in Christ, Translation, Preface, and Introduction by Asterios Gerostergios, et al., Institute for Byzantine and Modern Greek
Studies, Belmont, Mass., 2005, p.153.
[vi] Ibid. p.275.
[vii] Luke 24:30-31.
[viii] The Philokalia Vol. Two, Faber and Faber, Inc.,  London and Boston, 1984, p.127.
[ix] Acts 17:28.
[x] Bishop Kallistos Ware, The Orthodox Way, SVS Press, Crestwood, New York, p.120.
[xi] The Philokalia Vol. Three, Faber and Faber, Inc., London and Boston, 1984, pp.358-59.
[xii] Exod. 25:40; Heb. 8:5.
[xiii] C. Cavarnos, The Guide to Byzantine Icponography: Volume Two, HTM, Boston, Mass., 2001, pp.145-48.
[xiv] The types St. Nectarios mentions include: Adan and Eve; Noah in the Ark; The Sacrifice of Abraham; Moses Approaching
the Burning Bush; Moses Striking the Rock with his Rod; Elias Rising to the Heavens; Tobias and the Fish; Christ; the Apostles
Peter and Paul. Ibid. p.147.
[xv] Ibid.
[xvi] Ibid.
[xvii] Col. 1:26.

Archetype and Symbol III: On Noetic Vision, Continued…

The intelligible made sensible.

Platonic Solids, by Wentzel Jamnitzer (1508-1585)
Lets now look at the nous as an organ of perception.
In speaking of the soul, according to its different faculties, we tend to create a fragmented notion of it as consisting of mutually
exclusive layers, rather than as an interrelated whole. Therefore, we tend to forget that the nous permeates all of man. Even
though it is the innermost aspect of man, the eye of the heart, the “border” between the created and Uncreated, the spirit in him,
having close affinity to the Spirit, to be distinguished from soul or his emotive dimension.   Nevertheless, its activity reaches out
to all of his faculties.
The nous, to the extent that it is purified through prayer and repentance, becomes truly the eye of the heart, and charioteer of
the soul, directing reason, the passible aspect of the soul, and the senses. It apprehends truth, spiritual realities, and things
intelligible, in a direct fashion, intuitively. It then communicates this knowledge to the reason, in the articulation of concepts, or to
the imagination, in man’s creative activity of manufacturing. Both of these modes of expression, whether pertaining to the
faculties of reason or imagination, are traditionally understood as involving art, that is, a given skill which provides for either
physical, or spiritual needs. Iconography then is one of the arts, having the spiritual function of aiding man in his deification,
through symbolic encounter with the incarnate Logos, the Archetype. The interrelatedness of the soul’s faculties is described by
Ilias the Presbyter, “…Being products of the reason [thoughts], they uses  the imagination as a ladder, and so ascend from the
world of the senses to the intellect (nous), conveying to the latter the observations which they have derived from sense-
perception; then they redescend from the intellect down to the world of the senses, communicating to it the intellect’s
principles.”[i]
Here we see the dynamic of interrelatedness and a pattern that has implications pertaining to the creative act in iconography.
When Ilias says that the imagination (intrinsic image-forming faculty) “communicates” to the observations of sense-perception
the intellect’s principles, this can be seen as a process of imprinting in the creative act. That is, the images of sense-perception
are imprinted by the imagination after the intellect’s principles have been communicated to it. Instead of talking of the imprinting
of the imagination as coming directly from “above” as the glossary description does, this passage looks at it from “below,” as a
process of ascent. In it can be seen a way of speaking of the transfiguration of sense-perception in the creative act. In other
words, it suggests the possibility of not having solely to rely on the illuminations coming from above to depict the archetypes.
We can also depict these from artistic models and Nature, seeing them through the “new eyes” of the heart that the integrated
knowledge of the timeless pictorial principles of the canon gives us.   In the case of iconography what Ilias the Presbyter calls
“the intellects principles,” can be seen as the pictorial principles of the canon. Thereby, sense-perception is uplifted and
transfigured from outward appearance by bringing out of it the apprehension of archetypes in symbolic representation. Perhaps,
this explains why some Byzantine icons are paradoxically at once as if observed from life, almost having a kind of  “naturalism”
and classical in their gracefulness, yet wholly other-worldly, not merely sensual. The frescoes and mosaics of the church of
Chora in Constantinople exemplify this tendency. The “naturalism” apparent in these frescoes can be seen  as a synthesis of
observation from Nature, and classical Hellenic models.

Compare the “naturalism” in this fresco with the abstract style of the early Spanish manuscript below.
This process can also be seen in the articulation of icons of saints that are contemporary and recently canonised. In this case, of
course, a new prototype would have to be articulated from memory, photographs or naturalistic depictions of the saint that
record his outward semblance. These would then have to go through a process of transfiguring, based on the traditional pictorial
principles, which help to bring out of outward semblance the intrinsic characteristics of the saint in his deified state, as seen on
his countenance. This iconic depiction can be arrived at quickly or can take years, and it can result from the work of one or
many iconographers gradually refining the symbolic representation. The latter would be an example of communal illumined
creativity, each iconographer contributing his level of clarity of noetic vision, until a prototype is arrived at through organic
consensus, thus becoming transmitted knowledge. In this case we would also have what St. Nectarios has in mind.

St. John of Krostadt.Photo of the Saint

Icon, first stages of stylisation, retaining a sense of its photographic model.

Contemporary icon, mature stage, having arrived at a resolved “iconic” representation.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
In the creative act of transfiguring Nature, as Ilias points out, the imagination serves as a ladder, through which images ascend
and descend, after they have been imprinted by the intellect. Perhaps we can speak of the imprinting as an intuitive or
suprarational activity, after which the transfigured image, as seen in the heart, becomes the “pattern seen on the mountain” and
then depicted. And it can be said that this unfolds without the painter necessarily being aware that he is in a state of
“contemplation” proper. Even though throughout the whole process he is in fact apprehending the invisible in the visible, and
“pondering things in the heart,” as to determine artistically how to best outwardly manifest or symbolise the image within him.
As Plato says, “Law and art are children of the intellect (nous).”[ii] The creative act is an intellectual activity, in so far as the
observations of sense-perception are “transfigured,”  by the spiritual knowledge of the nous or its principles. This knowledge
presupposes purification, participation in the Tradition, its established formal and symbolic language of archetypes, and through
these the acquiring of “new eyes” to see. As Philip Sherrard says, “Sacred art, then is an attestation of the axiom, Ars sine
scientia nihil, without knowledge there is no art- where the scientia or knowledge referred to is unambiguously knowledge of
divine sacred realities.”[iii]
Of the importance of image, or icon, as “support” for contemplation, St Theodore says, that through images we “ascend to
intellectual contemplations… Imagination is then one of the five faculties of the soul, and imagination itself seems to be a kind of
image; for they are both manifestations. The image is not unprofitable therefore, since it is a help to the imagination. If the image
were unprofitable, then the imagination which depends on it and co-exists with it would be even more useless, and if it is
useless, then so too would be the faculties that co-exist with it – the senses, opinion, understanding, the intellect.”[iv] Here we
find a clear example of the necessity of images and hence the imagination, since there is an interdependence between them,
and also of the interrelatedness of the soul’s faculties. This passage also suggests that the iconic image, through its anagogic
pictorial principles, helps the imagination focus on sacred realities, thereby being guarded from dispersive thoughts and fantasy.
This then helps the soul to ascend to spiritual reflection in the act of prayer. It also appears to me that what St. Theodore has in
mind when speaking of “intellectual contemplation” is something along the lines of what was stated above, a kind of “being
mindful of” and of “pondering in the heart” the mysteries of the Faith.
The transfiguring of sense-observation in the creative act involves “abstracting the universal from the particular.” For example,
by taking a group of chairs of different kinds of materials, textures, designs, colours, or construction, and in bypassing their
outward appearance or shape to what they all have in common, their universal traits, we arrive at the idea of chair. That is, we
begin to see the immanent archetype as intelligible instance. I would say that the idea is a noetic apprehension of the archetype
as intelligible universal principle, which is immanent in all the particularised instants of each chair, or any given kind of thing in
Nature. According to the fifth century Chinese painter, Hsieh Ho, this process of “abstracting” was also the aim in the best
examples of their tradition, “The painters of old painted the idea (i) and not merely the shape (hsing).”[v] In abstracting the
universal we arrive at a linear, flat, dematerialised, simplified, and geometric stylisation. Geometry can be seen in the icon, not
only in the depiction of persons and objects, but also in its compositional substructure. But, it should not be overlooked that this
“abstracting” is not to lead to a mechanical or dead geometrisation, but should also involve capturing the life in the thing
depicted, its “spirit,” given by the Giver of Life.  Hsieh Ho also says that the work of art must reveal, “the operation (yun) of the
spirit (ch’i) in life-movement,” and again “By means of natural shape (hsing) represent divine spirit (shen).”[vi] In the principles of
iconography rhythm in line and composition are crucial in capturing the “life-movement.”
 As I have said before, we should not consider the universal principle in a dualistic manner as a way of escape from the
inherently evil world of matter to an abstract celestial world. There might be “higher” and “lower” levels in the cosmos, but they
interpenetrate each other, and the Logos is above all, through all, and in all, radiating His goodness as the ground of being.[vii]
The archetype as universal principle can be compared to a prism, through which the Uncreated light passes and refracts into
different colours, the variously shaped particular instances, which all declare uniquely the glory of God.[viii]
The process of abstracting the universal from the particular can be seen in the iconographic tradition between two poles, which
are both legitimate stylistic interpretations of the immanent archetype. On one hand, styles leaning towards naturalism
(Palaeologue, Cretan). On the other hand, a more severe “primitive” abstract style (Mozarabic, Celtic). In the middle would be a
balancing of both elements as seen in the Russian schools of the 14th and 15th centuries (Novgorod,Tver).

Mother of God, Greek. This leans towards the gracefulness of classical “naturalism.”

Mother of God Hodigitria, Russian 1502-3. Here we have balance between naturalistic and abstracting tendencies.

Mother of God, Book of Kells, 9th Century.

Severe abstract style.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
These two extremes approach the immanent archetype from different angles. One predominantly focuses on its material
manifestation and the other on its intelligible dimension. The first, in emphasising the particularised instance, would be
concerned with the features of the saint as individual, and therefore this kind of icon in its details would appear to be a portrait
painted from life. The second, in emphasising the universal domain, such as manhood or Man, would tend to depict in general
terms, and thus each saint in a group would come across as almost identical. This tendency is clearly seen in some Mozarabic
illuminations of the Revelation, where the elders surrounding the Lamb are barely indistinguishable. However, in being an
affirmation of the Incarnation, the icon does not allow for a style to deteriorate into either extreme of pure abstraction or coarse
naturalism. The first would be a denial of the ontological goodness of matter, its redemption, and the central role of Man as
microcosm; the second, in being concerned merely with the fleeting appearance of things subject to corruption, would be
overlooking deification and theophany in Creation.
 In this abstract style the focus is on universal dimension of things.
As you suggested the idea can be seen as more “concrete,” it remains, whereas the various shapes and materials perish, are
impermanent, subject to transience. Another way of saying “concrete” would be incorruptible, eternal. Hence we can also speak
of the “noetic vision of the archetypes” as seeing through the eye of the heart, not the mere shape of a thing, according to
corruption or the “garments of skin,” but according to its eschatological perfection and permanence. It is seeing things
transfigured, clothed in immortality, the state intended for them from the beginning, in which God is all in all. This tends at times
towards simplification and the geometric, not because the archetypes are an abstract geometry per se (I would not venture to
speculate on how the “look like” in the Logos, since we can say nothing of their essence) but because in geometry, as Plato
sensed when speaking of the principles symbolized in the five regular polyhedrons, we find expressions of formal perfection, or
what I would call eschatological permanence.[ix] In the Revelation of St. John the Theologian the notion of permanence, stability
and perfection, are geometrically expressed by the image of pure crystallization in the streets, the strong walls, foundations, and
cubic shape of the Heavenly Jerusalem. It’s shining forth in uncreated light is symbolized by gold, pearls, and the translucence
of its precious stones.[x]
In geometry we find reflected the higher, intelligible realm of being, which transcends the phenomenal, helping to elevate our
minds to consider the source of its beauty, the divine Intellect (Logos). Therefore geometry serves an anagogic function in
iconography. The icon being articulated by intellect (nous), and reflecting things intelligible, that is, “inner things,” the esoteric
and immaterial level of existence, becomes a symbol of the heavenly realm. As the Lord says, “The kingdom of God is within
you.”[xi] In the following passage Coomaraswamy speaks  about Plato and of his view of things geometric:
“The beauty of the admirable equation is the attractive aspect of its simplicity. It is a single form that is the form of many different things. In the same way Beauty
absolutely is the equation that is the single form of all things, which are themselves beautiful to the extent that they participate in the simplicity of their source.
‘The beauty of the straight line and the circle, and the plane and solid figures formed from these… is not, like that of other things, relative, but always absolutely
beautiful.’ Now we know that Plato, who says this, is always praising what is ancient and depreciating innovations (of which the cause are, in the strictest and
worst sense of the word, aesthetic), and that he ranks the formal and canonical arts of Egypt far above the humanistic Greek art that he saw coming into fashion.
The kind of art that Plato endorsed was, then, precisely what we know as Greek Geometric art. We must not think that it would have been primarily for its
decorative values that Plato must have admired this kind of “primitive” art, but for its truth and accuracy, because of which kind of beauty that is universal and
invariable…”[xii]

In this one example we can see how the pictorial principles we have been discussing have been universally acknowledged in the sacred art of
other cultures.
In other words, Beauty is the Logos, the Archetype of the beauty in created beings, whose archetypes or logoi participate in Him
as ground of their being, giving them an ontological goodness and permanence, symbolised by geometry in sacred art.
So as we have seen the term “noetic vision” is fluid and should not be solely thought of as an experience that is totally foreign to
us, but as something quite accessible. It is paradoxically far and near. Nevertheless, we should not oversimplify or over-
systematise things and strip them of their mystery. It is something that can happen to us suddenly from above, but is also
something that we can be engaged in as we speak. In Christ, Fr. Silouan
 Notes:
[i] The Philokalia Vol. Three, op.cit., p.50.
[ii] See the Timaeus, 28A, 47D, 69D, as quoted by Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The Essential Ananda K. Coomaraswamy,
World Wisdom, Inc., Bloomington, Indiana, 2004, p. 42.
[iii]   Philip Sherrard, The Sacred in Life and Art, Denise Harvey (Publisher), Greece, 2004, p.130.
[iv] As quoted by Andrew Louth in the essay,  “The Appeal to the Cappadocian Fathers and
Dionysios the Aeropagite in the Iconoclastic Controversy.” In Gregory of Nazianzus: Images And Reflections”. Jostein Bortnes,
Tomas Hagg. Museum Tusculanum Press, 2006,  p. 280.
[v] As cited in Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The Transformation of Nature in Art, Dover, New York, 1956. First issued by Harvard University Press, Cambridge,
Mass., 1934. p.15.
[vi] As cited in Coomaraswamy, op. cit.
[vii] Eph. 4:6.
[viii] The word “abstract” tends to have a connotation of mechanical lifelessness, but the word in this context should be taken to
mean “an act of drawing from,” or retrieving something that is covered under in order to reveal it. In speaking of the archetypes
Sherrard explains, “These realities that sacred art reveals are not abstract, static, impersonal, or other-worldly. On the contrary,
they constitute the inner living and energising plexus of things, their inner being and identity. They are the spiritual archetypes
whose intelligible ever-modulating metamorphosis from state to state link the Divine and human, Creator and creation, from the
most general to the most particular and intimate. It is this dynamic ever-modulating plexus that sacred art helps to reveal, to
disclose and uncover. In other words, sacred art presupposes that ours is a sacred cosmos rooted in the Divine and permeated
to its very core by the unseen presence of divine powers whose actuality constitutes its own actual existence…there is this
intimate interpenetration of inner and outer, invisible and visible, Spirit and matter…” Sherrard, op.cit. pp.130-3.
[ix] Of Plato’s theory of art C. Cavarnos says, “That painting can and ought to express the ideal is a thought that recurs in the
Republic and appears also in the Laws. In the Republic Plato envisions a painter who contemplates divine archetypes and
seeks to express through the human figures he paints the ideals of wisdom, courage, temperance and justice. Such an artist
looks at the archetypes of these virtues and tries to express them as far as this is possible in line and colour, erasing one touch
or stroke and painting another, until he succeeds in representing ‘a type of human character that is pleasing and dear to God’. In
the Laws the Athenian philosopher praises Egyptian painting because it abides strictly by principle, which he advocates, that the
youth should habituate themselves to postures and gestures that are beautiful.
This rejection of naturalism in painting and demand for idealism constitute not only a vindication of Egyptian art, but also a
remarkable anticipation of some of the basic principles underlying Byzantine iconography. The Byzantines realised more
effectively than any others the spiritual type of painting which Plato vaguely envisioned.” C. Cavarnos, Plato’s Theory of Fine
Art, Astir Pub., Athens, Greece, 1973, pp.35-36.
[x] Rev. 21: 9-21.
[xi] Luke 17: 21.
[xii]Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The Essential Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, World Wisdom, Inc., Bloomington, Indiana, 2004, pp.
27-28.