Iconoclasm as Child's Play

Abstract

In the summer of 1985 my children, Laura and Aurélien, then seven and five, knelt before a Barbie doll standing at the foot of a Ken doll on an imaginary cross. I remember vividly the scene because I took a picture of it. We were vacationing in Ticino and visiting the local churches, so I assumed that this play imitated the iconography to which they were being exposed. After reading Moshenska's Iconoclasm as Child's Play, however—whose cover shows “Josh McBig,” a bearded version of Ken with outstretched arms and severed legs, photographed by the Jackson sisters as part of their “Doll Games” project—I have to wonder: was there not in this play an element of parody or blasphemy, of iconoclasm even, prompted perhaps by my working at the time on contemporary “vandalism”? Or, on the contrary, was there an element of devotion, of faith produced by mimicking the ritual? I am now faced with the conundrum of “the adult's imagination of the child's imagination,” to borrow a phrase (from Michael Taussig) that resonates through Moshenska's strange and fascinating book.Sometime in the 1530s, in Redcliffe Cross in Bristol, in the west of England, a preacher named Roger Edgeworth denounced what he regarded as a current upsurge of impiety and singled out as evidence that “many Images” taken from the dissolved monasteries “haue bene caryed abrod, and gyuen to children to playe wyth all,” so that when their parents ask them what it is that they are playing with, they make them laugh by answering: “I haue here myne ydoll.” “Ydoll” is a portmanteau word—as Lewis Carroll would have said—combining “doll” and “idol,” and Moshenska finds “scattered but definite evidence . . . that holy things were made into playthings with sufficient frequency for it to be considered an established and recognized part of iconoclastic practice in the early modern period.” He analyzes a few other examples, but Edgeworth's sermon supplies him with the primal scene of his book: he admits to “having been seduced by this passage . . . , caught up in its folds, brought back to it time and again,” so that Iconoclasm as Child's Play bears some structural resemblance to Henry James's novella The Turn of the Screw. Consistently—and at times obtrusively—self-reflective, it also wonders whether its approach can be regarded as “a kind of iconoclasm” or is intended “as a form of play”—lusus serius, naturally.Iconoclasm as Child's Play explores with great ingenuity the complex relationships between the Christian rite, iconoclasm, and child's play: a Byzantine empress enables her icons to survive the Quarrel of Images by calling them her “dolls”; Protestants trivialize the Roman Catholic ritual by comparing it to “trifles” and the “mere playing of children”; in The Praise of Folly, Erasmus embraces the “foolishness” of Christianity, centered on the figure of a broken body that renders attacks against its images and iconoclastic theory itself—as Bruno Latour has shown—deeply equivocal. A further turn of the screw takes place in the missionary and mercantile context of Malacca, where the Dutch settlers impute childishness both to the Portuguese Jesuits who preceded them and to the local religions. The notions of “fetish” and “fetishism,” as Moshenska shows, charge their targets with a misattribution to objects of agency, responsibility, and desires.The object of Moshenska's inquiry, which he claims less convincingly to include “art-things,” is “polysemic and polychronic,” and a leitmotif of the interpretations he proposes is the instability of the status and meaning of what is interpreted, be it a thing, an action, or a word. Among the many epistemic virtues he attributes to iconoclasm as child's play is the questioning of “the sharp . . . divisions between modern and premodern” implied by historical narratives such as Max Weber's account of the Reformation as the “expulsion of play” and “disenchantment” of the world. A long meditation on the temporality of play concludes by pointing out the “toy potential of all things” and referring to James Gibson's notion of “affordance.” Indeed, child's play, whatever adults want to do with it, often consists in multiplying and inventing affordances, and it is capable of turning not only “idols” into “dolls,” but also “dolls” into “idols.”