Phenomenological Anachronism

Jenny Slatman, Tilburg University & Maastricht University

Introduction
In this paper, I would like to provide an analysis of a visual work of art that can do justice to both
its historical dimension and the experience of a contemporary beholder. As such, this analysis
will be based upon a well-determined error in chronology, or at least, a well-determined
confusing of chronology. Normally, such an anachronistic approach is considered to be a
cardinal sin for historians and has to be avoided by all means. From the perspective of a historian,
historical sources and works have to be interpreted against the background of their historical
contexts and categories, and not on the basis of contemporary experiences, feelings or
conceptions. We would do no justice to history if we project our present at something historical.
Indeed, it would be absurd to provide a historical interpretation of, for instance, images of nudes
on Greek amphora, stemming from the 5th century BC, on the basis of our contemporary
conception of pornography. The (art) historian may not neglect or falsify chronological relations.
I would like to show here, however, that a historical work should not be interpreted exhaustively
by a strict historical, i.e. non-anachronistic, interpretation. As aptly argued by the art historian
David Freedberg Art history deprives objects of their most violent effects, and of the strongest
responses to them it makes them anodyne(Freedberg 1989: 348). There is more to a historical
work of art than its history. If we consider a historical work not merely as a fait accompli with a
certain historical meaning, but also as a work that is still at work and that has a meaning for us
contemporary beholders we have to open up the historical and chronological framework. The
disclosure of the power of images, their capacity to provide a certain action or response
(Marin: 14), requires a certain anachronisation of the method.
The objective of this paper is to give the outline of an anachronistic method with the aid
of some phenomenological principles. At first sight, it might be surprising to draw on
phenomenology in order to develop an anachronistic interpretation of art; for, indeed,
phenomenology was defined first of all as a philosophy of essence, of eidos (Husserl 1913). And

since Plato, eidos or idea is something eternal, without history. 1 The essence is something that
always remains the same. Phenomenology thus seems to provide an a-chronistic approach instead
of an anachronistic one. If we look at two famous examples of phenomenologist who interpret a
work of art, we see that the rigid idea of something like the essence of art prevents
phenomenology to supply interpretations that takes into account the particularity of a certain
work. The examples I think of are Heideggers interpretation of Van Gogh in his The Origin of
the Work of Art and Merleau-Pontys interpretation of Czanne in Eye and Mind. They both
interpret art from a phenomenological (and hermeneutic) perspective. But if we look closely to
these texts, we might wonder whether these phenomenologists really talk about the art works in
question. I am inclined to say that the work of art is here only used as an example within an
ontological theory. Both claim that the Being of a work of art teaches us something about Being
in general. To say it in a rather disrespectful way, these analyses only provide an illustration for
ontology. These are examples of a phenomenology of art, but not of a phenomenology of a work
of art. What Heidegger writes about the muddy shoes of Van Gogh is not specific for this work,
since it counts for all kinds of paintings that represent rural life. And Merleau-Pontys
observations concerning space in Czannes paintings can be applied to most of modern painting.
If we want phenomenology to be a method of interpretation that can account for the
historicity and particularity of a certain work instead of being a method that claims to unveil the
essence of art in general we have to make clear that phenomenology can be applied to a
particular work of art, respecting the historical facts of such a work. I will therefore propose a
phenomenological method that remains close to the historical facts such as they are described by
the art historian. Such a conception of phenomenology might seem rather contradictory, because
the main principle of phenomenology consists of the suspension of all facts. And it is for this
reason that we are not surprised when Merleau-Ponty in his Eye and Mind claims that from
Lascaux to our time, pure or impure, figurative or not, painting celebrates no other enigma but
that of visibility (Merleau-Ponty 1961: 127). This general statement about art ignores every
historical context, style, development and content, and that reduces all painting to the abstract
idea of an enigma of visibility can be characterized as a-historic or anti-historic (Haar
1992: 104, 109). Despite the fact that Merleau-Pontys analyses of art do not seem very useful for

We have to add here that Husserl in his later work, especially in his essay on The Origin of Geometry, tried to
develop a conception of the eidetic ideal objectivity that is based on historicity.

developing a phenomenology that can account for historical dimensions, I will nonetheless base
my anachronistic method on some aspects of his phenomenological theory. What I find one of the
most important things in his phenomenology is that he shows that the phenomenological
reduction cannot exclude all facts. Phenomenology cannot be a pure eidetic phenomenology, but
always remains indebted to the facts that it wants to suspend (Cf. Slatman 2003). It is especially
this movement between the bracketing of facts and their release that I will put into operation in
my interpretation of an artwork.
I will call my anachronistic method an iconography. As we know, the term
iconographymeans nothing else than the description (graphia) of the image (eik n). Since the
work of Erwin Panofsky, however, it stands for a description of art that concentrates on the
content, instead of aspects of style and form (Panofsky 1955: 26). Although this Panofskian sense
of the term is prevailing in contemporary art history and criticism, in this paper, I will use the
term iconographyrather according to its general meaning. My aim is to provide a description
of an image in which I will focus on both its content and form. But since the image can be
considered from different angles, I will make a difference between a historical iconography and a
phenomenological iconography. Whereas the first provides a description of facts from a historical
point of view, the latter unveils the meaning (Sinn) of a work based on the intentional relation we
may have with the work. Furthermore, in the phenomenological sense, iconicity refers to a certain
aspectof the image, which we may call the non-representable, that which exceeds the image
as representation. Since this pictorial aspect could be ignored easily if we would limit our
description to a historical iconography, an additional phenomenological description is required. It
is my intention to show that although these two forms of iconography have to be distinguished,
they also intertwine. And it is especially in this intertwinement that we find its fruitful
anachronism.

The Intentional Analysis of a Work of Art

Even though phenomenology cannot be separated from ontological questions, and even though a
work of art has always an ontological meaning, I will start with the question of the constitution of
meaning instead of questioning the being of a work. It is through an intentional analysis, i.e. an
analysis of the intentional relation between beholder and work, that iconicity can be discovered.
Since my aim is to take into consideration seriously the factual and historical dimensions of a

work and not to speculate about the essence of art in general I will limit my analysis to just
one work of art. My analysis of this work takes its point of departure in aesthetic experience.
Before explaining pictorial facts, I will thus focus on the way in which the work affects the
beholder. It is on the basis of this experience that we can reveal the historical dimension of this
work. But although this experience forms the starting point of the analysis, we will see that this
does not lead to a purely subjective interpretation of the work.
The work I will discuss here is Antonello da Messinas Saint Sebastian (1475). Instead of
starting with an explanation of specific historical facts a historical description (or a historical
iconography) let us concentrate first on the way in which this painting affects and absorbsthe
beholder. This approach implies that we first suspend the facticity of the work in order to guide
our investigation toward consciousness, toward the experience of the beholder. In fact, this is a
way of practicing the phenomenological reduction. When I saw Antonellos Saint Sebastian for
the first time, I felt ashamed. As I observed the painting my eyes met a beautiful, scantily dressed
young man. But still, it was not this almost naked man in itself that struck me so much. I felt a bit
embarrassed when I realized that my gaze had been automatically directed toward the mans
genitals. The painting was apparently composed in such a way that the scarcely covered penis,
accentuated by the shadow at the groin, immediately forms the center of my visual field. I felt a
bit like a shameful voyeur. Before studying the historical and pictorial details of this work let us
consider here what the phenomenological meaning of this affection might be. 2
Jean-Paul Sartre (1943) has provided a pertinent phenomenological description of shame.
According to him, shame is an intentional experience instead of a psychological state of
consciousness that is enclosed in itself. In the same way that every consciousness is
consciousness of something which is the phenomenological definition of intentionality being
ashamed is always being ashamed of something. As Sartre argues, when I am shamed I am
ashamed of myself. By means of the feeling of shame I discover an aspect of my own being,
which is being for the other(Sartre 1943: 221). Shame is in essence recognition. It is based on
the presupposition that there is someone who can see me. Sartre illustrates this with a famous
example: when I am peeping through a keyhole I feel ashamed the moment I hear footsteps in the
hallway. Shame thus reveals the gaze of the other even if there are no real eyes actually
2

Needless to say, it is not necessary that this painting affects everybody with the feeling of shame. It can evoke a lot
of other subjective experiences. In my paper, I take the experience of shame as a starting point and would like to
investigate how such a subjective experience can help us with a historical reading of the painting.

watching (Sartre 1943: 259-260). If Antonellos painting causes a feeling of shame, it means that
in one way or another the gaze of the other imposes on me. But what does that mean here: the
gaze of the other? Not the gazes of possible other beholders who watch me while I am watching
the painting. No it is the painting itself that watches me. It is the painting that makes me the
beholder a part of the scene. Or at least, it makes that I cannot place myself entirely outside the
spectacle.
I just mentioned that the painting made me feel like a voyeur. In general, the term
voyeur is used for describing the spectator of an erotic scene. As we know, images of Saint
Sebastian, especially since the 14th century, nearly always have a (homo) erotic connotation.
Even though this painting of Antonello has not such an outspoken erotic overtone, one might
have the impression being a spectator of an exciting scene and thus might have the impression of
being a voyeur. I belief, however, that we need to be careful with this expression, for a voyeur
who looks secretly and who keeps that which she sees for herself or himself does not feel shame.
Shame only comes into play when we sense that someone else might see us as a voyeur, such as
the peeping Tom described by Sartre. It is not the voyeur who feels shame. It is rather the voyant
(seer) who is capable of the feeling of shame. Merleau-Ponty (1961) characterizes the voyant as
an incarnated spectator, which means that someone who sees is also been seen. The intentional
relation between the painting and the beholder that constitutes the feeling of shame is based on
the fact that the beholder is simultaneously seeing and being seen.
Since this incarnated beholder is herself part of the visible, of the spectacle, it is not
possible to grasp the eidos of the image. Not being able to place herself outside the spectacle, the
seer cannot glue the image. Instead of a frozen and eternal image, it appears as what I call a
moving image or an eik n. My hypothesis is thus that the intentional experience of shame can
bring to light the iconic meaning of the image. The intentional analysis of the work makes visible
a certain sense of being of the image. In what follows, I would like to demonstrate that a
phenomenological iconography can specify this iconic being of the image. As mentioned above,
phenomenological iconography should be sharply distinguished from historical iconography. And
yet, these two forms of iconography do not exclude each other, because a genuine
phenomenology of the work cannot ignore facts and descriptions such as provided by historical
iconography. After having bracketed historical facts and context to enlighten shame as a form of
intentional consciousness, it is now time to open up the brackets and explore what a historical

analysis can teach us about this specific work. In fact, my analysis will proceed as an oscillation
between the opening and closing of the phenomenological brackets. As I will explain in the last
part of this paper, it is especially this oscillation oscillation between facts and intentional
meaning, between the factual and the transcendental that constitutes the actual meaning of the
phenomenological reduction.

Iconography: A Description of Historical and Pictorial Facts

Saint Sebastian is one of Antonello da Messina's (1430-1479) later works. Antonello is usually
seen as one of the few Italian Renaissance painters who knew how to combine the microscopic
precision of the Flemish masters with the spatial sensibility of the Italian painters in such a way
that he attained a higher harmony in painting. He received his education in the south of Italy.
Because Naples was under Spanish reign at that time, the south of Italy was subject to cultural
influences from Spain, the south of France and the Netherlands (Cf. Lauts 1940, Markgraf 1989).
A fine example of the combination of Flemish naturalismor realismand the Italian penchant
for the then recently invented technique of perspective is the painting of Saint Hieronymus.
One could say that this painting is a good illustration of what Alberti called a window that
opens up to the world (Alberti 1435: 19). Standing outside, we look inside. The edge of the
painting is like a window frame. The window creates an opening toward the space in which
Hieronymus is sitting. A wall on the other side of the room limits the tiled floor that tends to
infinity. This wall also has windows, but the space behind these windows no longer belongs to
the linear perspective. In the center of this interior space sits a person reading a book, painted
with quiet simplicity and precision, without any baroque additions. At first glance, this interior
seems to be an infinite space, but the compelling presence of this person immediately breaks the
promise of infinity.
In the same way, Saint Sebastian presents us a tension between the extended space of the
linear perspective and the disturbance of this space due to the unavoidable presence of Sebastian
in the center and foreground of the painting. The disturbance of the space is in this painting even
more worrying than in the case of Saint Hieronymus. Hieronymusspace is the private area of his
own house; it is the space that surrounds him while he is quietly reading a book, being turned
upon himself. Sebastian's space, in contrast, is public. Pierced with arrows and tied to a tree, the
martyr is exposed in a tiled square. Around this square we see several potential witnesses. These

people, however, do not look very interested in the tortured Sebastian. This lack of interest
amplifies the pertinence of the tortured body for us, the beholders. There is an unavoidable
beautiful body before our eyes. But it is not only beauty that affirms the pertinent presence of
Sebastian: it is first of all his location in space that makes him our eye's target.
Let us examine more precisely the meaning of space in this painting by means of a
description of some form elements. Following Greimasconception of semiotics, let us just
concentrate on the relation of different form elements in the painting (Cf. Greimas 1976). 3 First
of all we can distinguish between a foreground, which is mainly filled by Sebastian and his tree,
and a background that is constituted by buildings and other persons. It is in fact linear perspective
that imposes this division in different layersof space. We should not forget that this painting is
rather big: its height is 171 cm and its width is 85 cm. This means that when this painting hangs
on a wall it forces us to a low level. It is easy to imagine that the combination of these measures
with the typical spatial composition of this painting forces the beholder to flex her knees, to
genuflect in front of this painting.
The linear perspective in this painting guides our gaze from a low position toward the area
behind Sebastian, behind the wall that fences the square, through the open arches. The vanishing
point, however, is not behind this wall. It is located in Sebastians left shin. Our gaze, encouraged
by the tiles' motif to travel into the distance, is immediately stopped by the martyr's leg. Almost
inevitably our gaze is guided from the shadowy side of the man's left leg to his penis, which is
clearly outlined in the center of the painting. Our erotic gaze enjoys lingering here for a while,
waiting perhaps for a spontaneous erection that occurs quite often during physical torture. Then
our eyes travel upward across the right side of his beautiful torso, which, through the rotation of
the body and the subsequent incidence of light, exposes itself explicitly. Our eyes gape in
admiration at this beautiful body, and the fact that it is tortured makes it even more erotic for us.
The strange thing is that the tied young man himself seems to not really be affected by the
horrifying torture of the arrows. His beautiful body does not falter. This invulnerability makes his
sainthood clear. Now we may see the meaning of the contrast between foreground and
background. Firstly, on a formal level, this division is formed by the collision of linear
3

According to Greimas a semiotic analysis consists of an analysis of binary oppositions. These structural
oppositions, such as foreground-background, constitute the meaning of a work. Semiotics thus concentrates on form.
Here we see a striking difference with Panofskys conception of iconography/iconology. For Panofsky, iconography
is limited to the content or subject matter of the image. Instead of opposing semiotics to iconography/iconology, I
rather see it as a way of completing iconography.

perspective with the presence of a figure that immediately exceeds this perspective. In fact,
Sebastian is too big. He does not fit within the perspective. And secondly, on the level of content,
the division between the two forms of space signifies the opposition between the sacredness of
Sebastian and the profanity of the world around him. It is also the contrast between the serenity
of the saint and the (erotic) excitement of the beholder. After all, we beholders are no saints.
However, our sacrilegious gaze does not succeed in capturing totally the desired image. We are
no voyeurs since we cannot take a birds eye viewpoint with respect to the saint. Although the
saints body might invite us to objectify it with our erotic gaze, his sacred position prevents us
immediately from placing him in the homogeneous space of perspective. His sacredness cannot
be objectified. It is exactly this non-objectifyable being that I call the iconicity of the image. I
will now clarify this iconicity by turning to a phenomenological iconography. It is my objective
to elevate the outcome of historical iconography to the level of phenomenological iconography.
Implying an anachronistic approach, the latter can pry open some frozen historical connotations.

Iconography: A Phenomenological Description of Meaning

At stake is thus the phenomenological meaning of iconicity. 4 First of all we have to distinguish
the icon in the phenomenological sense from Russian and Byzantine icons. Even though we have
already seen that the phenomenological icon might contain a sort of holiness, it is not simply
about images of saints. As I will explain, there can also be a form of holiness or sacredness in an
image even when there is no saint represented at all. In the phenomenological view, iconicity
refers to the intentional relation between the image and the beholder. In other words, the icon
refers to the relation between the seer and what is seen; it thus expresses a certain meaning of
beingof the image that is seen by the beholder. The image as icon has a different meaning of
beingthan the image as representation of reality. To determine the way in which the image as
icon exists we have to elaborate on the phenomenon of vision.
Vision can be understood in two different ways. First, it can be seen as a sort of one-way
traffic, meaning that there is a subject that sees and a object that is seen. Vision thus understood
implies an opposition between subject and object. I call this form of vision voyeuristic; the one
who sees tries to capture the visible without being captured herself. A second and more adequate

For a more elaborated analysis of iconicity from a phenomenological view, see my article Phenomenology of the
Icon(Slatman forthcoming).

conception of vision can be found in the late work of Merleau-Ponty. He argues that when I see, I
am not just a seer, but I am as a seer also visible. The enigma derives from the fact that my body
simultaneously sees and is seen. That which looks at all things can also look at itself and
recognize, in what it sees, the 'other side' of its power of looking. It sees itself seeing; it touches
itself touching: it is visible and sensitive for itself (Merleau-Ponty 1961: 124). The so-called
subject of perception cannot oppose herself to the visible world as if they were distinguishable.
Since she has and is a body, she is inextricably bound with the visible, which means that the idea
of a subject-object relation is no longer tenable. It is more adequate to speak of a reversibility
between seeing and being seen. This conception of reversibility that stems from Merleau-Ponty's
philosophy seems to play an important role in the idea of iconicity that Jean-Luc Marion develops
in his La croise du visible (1996).
In La croise du visible, Marion examines how to understand the relation between the
visible and the invisible. He holds the view that perspective can be considered as being a crossing
(croise) of the visible and the invisible. Here, perspective is not seen as the application of a
technique in painting, but more generally as that which forms the basis of every gaze (Marion
1996: 15). In the view of the gaze, the visible is crossed and hollowed out. The gaze loses itself in
emptiness. Through perspective there is an apparent piercing of the gaze. Within perspective, the
visible dislocates itself by means of which the invisible becomes operative. This invisibility, the
emptiness of the gaze, is constitutive for what we see. It is the condition for the visible, but it is
also the condition for something being appropriate for our intentional orientation (visable)
(Marion 1996: 15). This crossing of the visible and the invisible coincides with the constitution of
an intentional object; such as the phenomenologist Husserl described it. Perspective, which itself
is not present as a visible aspect, constitutes the visible object.
According to Marion, this theory of intentionality is limited, for it is also possible that the
visible and the invisible cross without constituting an object. In that case, the invisible is no
longer constitutive for the visible object. Marion argues that the visible and the invisible can be
related in such a way that the invisible staysin the visible (Marion 1996: 41). As he states, this
is what happens with the icon. Although he refers to the religious experience that belongs to the
tradition of Byzantine icons while exposing his theory of iconicity, Marion does not use the term
icon to designate a certain form of painting. For him, the icon is above all a certain meaning of
being of the image. And this meaning of being depends on the relation one has with the

image. The following aspects determine the meaning of beingof the icon. First of all, there is a
crossing of gazes (des regards croiss) comparable to the gaze of the one who prays and Christs
(Marion 1996: 42). The prayer, who looks at an icon, facing the eyes of Christ, is not only
looking but is also looked upon. The gaze that looks back disqualifies the beholder from her
position of being a sovereign subject that is able to form the image according to her own
anticipation or foreseeing(prvoyance). What the icon shows cannot be foreseen or anticipated
(imprvu). It manifests the non-seen(linvu). This non-seenstems from the invisible but does
not coincide with it. It is the provisional invisible that longs to become visible (Marion 1996: 51).
In the iconic crossing of gazes, the visible is hollowed or emptied out in order to make the
invisible present. In that sense, Marion also speaks of the image as a void or as kenose.5 The very
first icon, the print of Christs face on the cloth of saint Veronica, was not a figuration or
representation of the divine, but rather the emptying (kenose) of the divine person. 6 The icon is
thus not an image or copy of God: it is not an idol (eidolon).
For Marion, this distinction between icon and idol is essential for his ontology of the
image.7 Whereas he calls the icon the presence of a non-object, the idol is a representational or
objectifying image of the world. The image as idol depends completely on criteria that the
beholder imposes on the image. This means that the idol is characterized by visibility and that it
can be anticipated and foreseen. The idolatrous beholder withdraws from the gaze of the other. In
order to show their difference in relation to the image, Marion distinguishes the voyant from the
voyeur. The voyeur is the idolatrous beholder who puts herself outside the spectacle. Her desire to
watch, her libido videndi, aims at stuffing herself of the most accessible visible(Marion 1996:
91). In a recent study on images, Jean-Luc Nancy endorses this analysis of Marion. He claims
that the image as idol does not move, does not see and does not speak. One might be inclined to
cheer it but it wont respond. Conversely, the idolatrous beholder does not really see, does not
really understand (Nancy 2003: 64-65). In short, idolatry stops every form of communication
between the one that is seeing and that what is seen. It disregards the gaze of the other.

This implies a reference to the following passage from the Bible: For the divine nature was his from the first; yet
he did not think to snatch at equality with God, but made himself nothing, assuming the nature of a slave. Bearing
the human likeness, revealed in human shape, he humbled himself, Philippians 2, 6-8.
6
The name of saint Veronica the woman who cleaned Christs face with a cloth during His Way of the Cross
making a print of His face refers to the image as a true icon: vera icona (Cf. Mondzain 1996: 238).
7
This distinction is constitutive for a great deal of Marions work (Cf. Marion 1977, 1982).

10

Even though Marion refers to the religious experience of praying and even though
Antonellos painting represents a saint, there is no intrinsic relation between the
phenomenological sense of the icon and religion tout court. Phenomenological iconography has a
more general significance. It makes visible that there is something in the image that exceeds the
subject-object position. That what exceeds is more precisely the invisible. Given the fact that the
beholder is not just a voyeur but herself a part of the visible, the invisible is also inscribed in the
spectacle. It constitutes the position of the gaze of the other. As described for instance very
clearly by Sartre and Lacan, the gaze of the other not necessarily indicates another person. If I
have the impression of being seen, if I thus sense the gaze of the other, this does not mean that I
perceive someone watching me. Sartre describes this in the example of men who hide in the
bushes to avoid the gaze of the other. The gaze they were hiding for were not two eyes, rather a
white farm constituted it outlined against the sky at the top of a little hill (Sartre 1943: 258). The
gaze of the other is thus something impersonal. It can even manifest itself by way of a sardine
can floating on the sea as described by Lacan (1964: 95). Or, the gaze of the other is like
windows in a street without people in an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
In the same way, the gaze of the other that is manifest in Antonellos painting has not a
personal character. Sebastian does not even look at me. It is the painting itself that makes me
conscious of my position as beholder. The painting renders us a voyant and not a mere voyeur. Or
even better, it is the disturbance of the linear perspective by means of Sebastians unavoidable
presence that forces me to give up my voyeuristic gaze. If Sebastian were not there, I could size
up the entire painting at a glance. Sebastians position dethrones my voyeuristic gaze that
pretends seeing everything. It demands me to bow my knees.

Phenomenology and Historical Analysis

It is now time to articulate in which way phenomenological iconography, as I have described in
the previous section, can enrich historical analysis. We have seen that it takes its lead from
certain results of descriptions from an art historical perspective. This means, on the one hand, that
iconicity is not independent of the images content or subject matter. There might be paintings
without iconic dimension. Iconicity therefore does not constitute the essence of an image in
general. But, on the other hand, iconicity cannot simply be deduced from a historical description
of a work. What is especially lacking in art historical methods is the analysis of the relation

11

between image and beholder. Phenomenology, by contrast, makes visible the way in which
pictorial elements can affect the beholder. And conversely, it shows how a certain affection
such as shame bestows meaning to an image. In our case, it was the experience of shame that
unveiled our position as beholder, i.e. not the position of a voyeur but that of a voyant. As such, it
revealed a specific ontological dimension in this image, i.e., its ungraspable iconicity. It is in this
way that the phenomenological analysis is capable of freeing the image from its fixed
connotation within the history of art. It is capable of putting the image within an anachronistic
perspective.
What is the main connotation of Saint Sebastian within the history of art? Since the 14 th
century, images of this saint nearly always emphasize the nudity of the masculine body. Before
the Renaissance this was not the case. Since the Renaissance, representations (and their
interpretations) of this saint are thus dominated by the theme of homosexuality. In fact, this is
rather surprising since the original legend of Sebastian does not refer to this theme at all. The
historical Sebastian was a courageous Christian who rebelled against the Roman regime.
Diocletius, the Roman authority, gave the order to punish him by piercing his body with arrows.
As we know, Sebastian, miraculously, survived this torture. His survival, however, was not so
much the result of his own bodily strength. It was Irene who rescued him by taking care of his
wounds. It is striking that most of the Sebastians picture totally ignore the presence of this
woman, saint Irene. As some interpreters aptly claim, this omission has made it possible to
interpret Sebastians story in an exclusive masculine perspective, and consequently, to conceive it
as a homo-erotic scene (Le Targat 1977: 6).
Of course, the dominance of (homo) sexuality in pictures of Sebastian needs not
necessarily be based upon the legend of the historical Sebastian. There might be other reasons for
representing or interpreting sexuality in such a way. Leo Steinberg, for instance, shows in his The
Sexuality of Christ (1983), that it is rather easy to misinterpret the meaning of sexual or erotic
scenes in historical images. His analysis focuses on images stemming from the Renaissance in
which Christs sexual organ is plainly exhibited. These images - some of them even represent an
erection or the penis touched by other people might be shocking for contemporary beholders.
We might want to interpret them as perverse representations of Christ. At least, it is rather
difficult, for us, to recognize in these pictures the historicalJesus. Steinberg, however, explains
that these images should be interpreted against the background of Renaissance ideas about

12

incarnation and resurrection. These carnalpictures of Christ stress the then prevailing idea of
the humanation of God, and the divine erection represents nothing else than Christs
immortality (Steinberg 1983: 10, 23, 89). Although Christs sexuality and nudity is represented in
a realistic way, it should be considered as symbolic (Steinberg 1983: 35). If we follow this line of
argument, we might want to say that, also in the case of Sebastian, there could be certain
symbolic reasons for stressing his homosexuality. However, I am not inclined to endorse
Steinbergs approach. The most important reason for this is that he provides a strict nonanachronistic interpretation. He interprets historical images on the basis of historical theological
notions, which results in the fact that his analysis leaves no room for another experience or
response of a (contemporary) beholder. It is a good example of making a work of art anodyne.
David Freedberg, who criticizes art history for paralyzing a work by means of rigid historical
categories, makes clear that paintings may arouse (strong) responses that cannot simply be
reduced to some theoretical conceptions. Drawing on a text of Vasari, he reports the story of
women in the 16th century who felt sexual aroused by looking at a painting by Fra Bartolomeo
that was on display in the San Marco church in Florence. After some women had confessed this
sin, the painting was removed to another (non-public) place where only men were allowed to
look at it (Freedberg 1989: 346-348). According to Freedberg, these kind of stories that make
visible the various responses to a (historical) work are ignored by art history. What I find
interesting in this specific story is the very fact that it concerns a female response to the work. It
is a fine example of the fact that male nudity and beauty can provoke all kind of sexual or erotic
responses, and that it is not simply limited to being subject of a homoerotic gaze.
Another reason for being careful in interpreting too quickly Sebastian in terms of a
homosexual hero is that the term homosexual can very easily be used in a non-productive
anachronistic way. As described in detail by Michael Rocke (1996), homosexuality as opposed to
heterosexuality is a sexual practice that did not exist as such in the 15th century. It only came into
being in the 18th century. Same-sex relations in the Renaissance were rather called sodomyor
pedastryand were based on strict social roles between male adults and boys under 18 years old.
The adults played the masculine, active role; they sodomized, and the boys played the passive,
feminine role; they were sodomized. According to Rocke, the so-called homosexuality in
Renaissance Italy (Florence) had not so much to do with sexual or erotic preferences, as is the

13

case in our present conception of homosexuality. It rather was a practice of social construction of
male gender identity.
I would thus propose to bracket the homosexual connotation of the figure of Sebastian.
But, as I have suggested above, Antonellos painting undoubtedly has a certain erotic sense. This
eroticism can barely be reduced to an outspoken represented sexuality. If we compare it with
other representation of Sebastian, like El Grecos (1576-79) or Alfred Coumes(1974) we can
even say that Antonellos Sebastian does not explicitly represent nudity. In fact, Antonello
provides us a rather modest picture. What then constitutes the eroticism in this painting?
According to a phenomenological interpretation of this work, the specific erotic meaning of this
image is constituted within the iconic reversibility between image and beholder. It is based upon
a certain intentional relation between image and beholder. As we have seen, it is rather the
specific position of the body in space than its outspoken nudity or sexuality that is important here.
It is thus not a certain (historical) conception of theology that teaches us something about a
specific religious dimension in this picture, as is the case in Steinbergs interpretation. Nor is it a
specific idea of (homo) sexuality that is needed as background for an interpretation of this work. I
would say that the specific religiousdimension of this picture its holiness, its iconicity, i.e. its
dimension of the non-representational comes to the fore if we concentrate at the interaction
between image and incarnated viewer. In the case of Antonellos Sebastian, it means that we
have to concentrate on the meaning of shame. In so doing, phenomenology can make visible a
tension within the gaze. This is the tension between the feeling of dominating the spectacle as
voyeur and the feeling of being submitted to the gaze of the painting itself. In other words, what
is at stake here is a tension between my voyeuristic gaze, that shamelessly desires to watch a
poorly dressed body, and my shame by means of which my voyeurism is exposed. Within the
iconic correlation, my sado-erotic gaze that likes to linger on this tortured body is itself struck.
And it is very likely that I am much more vulnerable than Sebastian.

Conclusion
Phenomenological iconography relates, in an anachronistic way, historical facts to the experience
of a contemporary beholder, which means that it does right to the historical dimension of a work.
Such a phenomenology, however, can no longer be an eidetic phenomenology; for it does not
look for the essence of the work of art in general, or the essence of art in general. It instead

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reveals the essence as the icon of a singular work. What I have described above is thus a noneidetic phenomenology. With a reference to Jacques Derrida we can also call it an impure or
contaminated phenomenology (Derrida 1990: vii). Essential to this phenomenology is its
double structure: it is both transcendental and non-transcendental, both eidetic and empirical. On
the one hand, it brackets the entire history and facticity to render the intentional relation between
image and beholder. But on the other hand, it remains within the facticity of the natural attitude.
Even though this double picture of phenomenology might contradict the very idea of
phenomenology as developed by Husserl, eventually it corresponds exactly with what MerleauPonty has said about the phenomenological reduction in his Preface to his Phenomenology of
Perception. The most important lesson which the reduction teaches us is the impossibility of a
complete reduction(Merleau-Ponty 1945: xiv). A complete reduction would imply a philosophy
of a pure subject that is opposed to an object, and such a philosophy is not appropriate for
analyzing works of art. An incomplete reduction, in contrast, that leaves room for both historical
descriptions and (contemporary) experiences, can account for the aesthetic experience of a
specific work of art.
Every work of art that may arouse an experience that is based on a certain reciprocal
intentional relation not necessarily the experience of shame can be subject of a
phenomenological analysis. According to the phenomenological approach, the meaning of a work
is not inherent in the work, but originates from the relation between work and beholder. Our
analysis of Antonellos Sebastian has made clear that the meaning of this painting depends on the
viewpoint of the beholder, or more precisely, the position of the beholder as forced by the
painting. The meaning of this painting is described as being iconic and this ontological meaning
depends on the experience of shame. Of course, it is not said that this painting will arouse shame
in every possible beholder. The only thing that I have explained in this essay is that if this
painting arouses a feeling of shame, this (contemporary) experience can reveal an aspect that both
exceeds and deepens historical analysis. Needless to say, the painting may arouse totally other
responses, or no responses at all. In those cases, the iconic meaning of this painting will remain
disclosed. This specific meaning of this artwork only comes to the fore if we take into account
seriously the beholders receptivity and the ways in which responses are provoked. It is only in
this way that we may understand that a work of art should not be something anodyne, but rather
something that is still at work and that, while breaking away from its own historical framework,

15

can hit us. Phenomenology can thus offer a helping hand in opening up historys chronological
rigidity.

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