CSMC My iPod My Icon: How and Why Do Images Become Icons

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My iPod, My iCon: How and Why Do Images Become Icons?Eric Jenkins

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My iPod, My iCon: How and Why DoImages Become Icons?

Eric Jenkins

This paper engages the cultic following of Apple computer through an examination of their

brand image, here represented by the famous iPod silhouette commercials. I argue that

Apple employs the techniques of the Orthodox icon, constructing amode of seeing known as

symbolical realism. This mode cues the reader to see with their divine eye, recognizing

neither a realistic portrayal of an actual event nor a symbolic representation. Instead, the

viewer sees the advertisements as a hypostasis of the immersion in music. This mode of

seeing deflects attention from Apple’s ideological gain and invites viewer participation in a

cult celebrating the immersive experience. In short, the ads construct a visual enthymeme

whose missing element is the user. By participating in the ritual of seeing through symbolic

realism and thereby completing the enthymeme, the iPod is transformed into my iCon,

bestowing the commodity, and by extension the corporation, with cult value.

Keywords: Ipod; Icons; Visual Rhetoric; Symbolic Realism; Cult Value

If ours is the age of the world picture (Heidegger, 1977), it is also certainly the age of

the global corporation. Corporations fuel the image-age by promulgating brand

images in every possible medium. Faced with the scale and concomitant deperso-

nalization of contemporary capitalist conditions, corporations turned to the

manufacture of images due to their inherent ideological power*namely, the ability

to represent an abstraction in concrete garb. At its heart, a corporation is nothing

more than an abstraction, a legal fiction of associated employees, factories, stores,

marketing campaigns, and products. Developing a corporate image allows this

abstraction to appear as reality, as a living being with a particular ethos and character.

Apple Computer has been praised in business circles for its innovative and effective

development of its brand image. Apple has continually molded a persona of the ‘‘hip’’

Eric S. Jenkins is a Ph. D. candidate in Speech Communication at the University of Georgia. His research focuses

on consumer media. The author would like to thank Dr. John Murphy, Dr. Christine Harold, Dr. Kevin DeLuca,

Dr. Kristy Maddox, Dr. Jarrod Atchison, Kristen McCauliff, and David Cisneros for their comments and

assistance. The author would also like to thank Dr. Watts and the reviewers for their valuable insights. Speech

Communication, 110 Terrell Hall, University of Georgia, Athens, GA 30602, USA; Email: [email protected]

ISSN 1529-5036 (print)/ISSN 1479-5809 (online) # 2008 National Communication Association

DOI: 10.1080/15295030802468057

Critical Studies in Media Communication

Vol. 25, No. 5, December 2008, pp. 466�489

Downloaded By: [Achter, Paul] At: 14:45 17 December 2008

votary of the digital age, best represented by the commercials featuring a computer-

savvy young man who claims to be ‘‘Apple’’ engaged in dueling conversations with the

nerdy and up-tight ‘‘PC’’ embodiment. Everything from their advertisements to the

lifestyle of their famous CEO Steve Jobs to the design of their products intends to

convey this image of a hip and dedicated proponent of the digital age. Apple’s success

at molding this corporate persona is attested by the leagues of devoted consumers,

who not only purchase their products but worship the brand as one would a church

or religious figure in an earlier age. Many observers have noted the proliferation of

Web sites, user advertisements, and fan clubs devoted to Apple and its products, a

devotion so stark that Leander Kahney (2005) pens it The Cult of the iPod.

The reference to religion, cults, votaries, worship, and devotion is not accidental.

Walter Benjamin (1996a) describes capitalism as ‘‘a religion of pure cult’’ (289).

Corporations seek to develop consumers with ‘‘brand loyalty’’ devoted to their

commodities and beholden to their brand image. If this is the case, then Apple has

certainly succeeded. This raises the question: How does a corporation, one obviously

committed to the vulgarities of profit and materialism, inspire the devotion of a cult

following? The answer is related to Apple’s corporate image but demands more

examination. Of course, corporations turned to images because of their ability to

naturalize the ideological. Yet while viewers respect images for the ability to make

concrete certain depictions, they also recognize in this power dangerous ideological

consequences. It does not take long, especially in a capitalist economy bent on

separating suckers and their money, to see that images mislead and misrepresent as

well. Behind the seemingly natural images hides the interests and systems of power.

This simultaneous respect for and fear of images is a perennial human condition,

marked historically by recurring bouts of iconoclasm. People appreciate the

naturalizing power of images but fear the ideological implications of their

transcendent messages. We value the concreteness of imagery but fret over the

ideological abstractions they either portray or cover-up. When the mask is exposed,

people often respond violently, against images and their makers alike. How, then,

does Apple craft an image which deflects the skepticism of wily consumers inured to

the ways of corporate image-makers?

In this paper, I argue that Apple employs the visual form of the icon to address this

cultural atmosphere of iconoclasm. The participatory and ritualistic nature of iconic

form helps inspire a cult following. The icon constructs a mode of seeing known as

symbolical realism, somewhere between the concrete naturalism of a portrait and the

abstract representations of a symbol. Through symbolical realism, the icon portrays a

hypostasis*a concrete representation of a spiritual quality. The iconic hypostasis

helps avoid charges of heresy and propaganda by naturalizing depictions of the

transcendent, neither reducing the spiritual to the material nor arbitrarily connecting

the concrete and the abstract. By balancing the spiritual and the material, the abstract

and the concrete, the icon allows image-makers to tap into the reverence for images

while deflecting the fears of their ideological implications.

To develop this argument, I proceed in three sections. First, I outline the two

notions of icons prevalent in visual criticism. The first sees icons as culturally potent

My iPod, My iCon 467


imagery, and the second defines icons as signifiers that resemble their signified. I

contend that while each notion contributes significantly to the understanding of

icons, the particular visual techniques deserve further clarification. To achieve this

clarification, I explore the history of Byzantine iconoclasm in the second section.

Here, I further develop the argument that icons address the simultaneous fear and

respect for images by portraying a hypostasis of a spiritual quality. Armed with this

historical understanding of icons, I turn to Apple’s iPod silhouette commercials. I

illustrate how these advertisements employ the mode of symbolical realism to portray

a hypostasis of the immersion in music. The hypostasis allows Apple to argue that

they are dedicated to the spiritual experience of immersion in music, transforming

them from detached megacorporation committed to materialism and profit to the

hip votary of the digital age. I conclude by illustrating how the icon inspires a cult

following by celebrating a divine experience and encouraging audience participation

in the rituals and mores of that experience. Only when the iPod becomes my iCon

does the cult emerge.

‘‘Icon’’ in Visual Criticism

A brief review of the concept ‘‘icon’’ in visual criticism should help to illustrate the

mode of symbolic realism by contrasting it with two other modes of seeing*the

symbolic and the realistic. Although the definitions vary, I isolate two primary

interpretations based on these two contrasting modes of seeing. First, scholars, such

as art historian Erwin Panofsky (1955) and rhetorical critics Dana Cloud (2004),

Catherine Palczewski (2005), Lester Olson (1987), and Hariman and Lucaites (2002,

2003, 2007) often deploy ‘‘icon’’ to mean a culturally potent image.1 The term ‘‘icon’’

is rarely defined in this scholarship but is frequently equated with a significant and

historically meaningful image. For instance, Hariman and Lucaites (2002) define

icons as ‘‘widely recognized’’ and ‘‘reproduced’’ images depicting ‘‘historically

significant events’’ and activating ‘‘strong emotional response’’ (p. 366).

This first interpretation of icons contributes significantly to visual criticism. The

focus on cultural impact directs the critic to the circulation of images. Certainly, the

image’s circulation is central to its potency. Only by examining uptake can the critic

hope to explain ‘‘the startling contrast between the sheer number of visual images that

are . . . immediately forgotten . . . , and . . . the concentration of iconographic power

over time in a comparatively small group of images’’ (Schneck, 2003, p. 132). For

instance, Hariman and Lucaites (2002) accomplish this task with fine perspicacity,

demonstrating how the famous Iwo Jima photograph articulated to the culturally

resonant messages of egalitarianism, patriotism, and civic republicanism.

Although icons entail significant social consequence, the first interpretation tells us

little about the properties of visual form. For instance, Hariman and Lucaites are

concerned with tracing the circulation of the Iwo Jima image. Thus they focus on

how the photograph provides a resource for potential symbolic meanings. Hariman

and Lucaites (2002) conclude, ‘‘The most important task of the iconic image is to

manage a basic contradiction or recurrent crisis within the political community’’

468 E. Jenkins


(p. 367). In short, by conveying a message of civic republicanism, egalitarianism, and

nationalism the photo helps resolve contradictions in democratic life between these

universal claims and their social manifestations.

I do not deny that many people read such meanings through the image, particularly

in the context of World War II.2 However this approach necessarily turns the critical

focus more to the cultural context of images than to the visual form itself. This

encourages a symbolic mode of seeing which stands outside the image and

emphasizes the meanings beyond the particularities of context or singularities of

form.3 Hariman and Lucaites begin their examination with a detailed and astute

depiction of the photograph’s features. However they organize this depiction under

the headings of the three messages they accrue from photograph*egalitarianism,

civic republicanism, and nationalism. This organization makes clear their priority to

the symbolic meanings rather than the compositional features.

The second interpretation of icons, in contrast, focuses on the compositional

features. This interpretation, influenced by the semiotics of Charles Sanders Peirce,

refers to icons as signifiers that bear a resemblance to their signified.4 Scholars who

advance this notion include many semioticians such as Eco (1976), art historians

including Mitchell (1986) and Gombrich (1996) and numerous rhetorical critics such

as Michael Osborn (1986), Leff and Sachs (1990), and Edwards and Winkler (1997).5

Although the aspects of ‘‘icon’’ vary, Edwards and Winkler (1997) maintain that ‘‘the

presumptive definition usually focuses on factors of representation by concrete

resemblance,’’ similar to Osborn’s definition of an icon as ‘‘concrete embodiments of

an abstraction’’ (p. 289, 292).

The emphasis on resemblance leads to a more narrow definition of icons, based in

a realistic mode of seeing. For example, Edwards and Winkler diverge from Hariman

and Lucaites by denying iconic status to the Iwo Jima image because the photograph

and the subsequent reappropriations lack a resemblance to the historical moment

captured by photographer Joe Rosenthal on February 23, 1945.6 The photo is not an

icon because its meaning is not ‘‘grounded in what it concretely represents’’ (Edwards

& Winkler, 1997, p. 292). They dismiss the photograph’s iconic status because it fails

to resemble many features of the war, such as combat and an enemy (and I might add

violence and death). Furthermore, when the image is redeployed, for purposes such

as indicting military policy on homosexuality, it no longer bears a resemblance to the

historical events of World War II. This disqualifies the image as an icon, making it

instead a ‘‘representative form’’ (pp. 295�296).

This second interpretation of icons emphasizes the importance of visual form, with

Edwards and Winkler concerned to carefully distinguish between ideographs, icons,

and representative forms. This focus allows them to trace the various ways the Iwo

Jima image was reappropriated in the aftermath of the photograph’s initial

publication. While the focus on visual form is a productive turn, the notion of

resemblance deserves further clarification. The dilemma of a notion of icons as

resemblance is that this stance is either too broad or too narrow. On the one hand,

the interpretation, if extended, can disqualify any image for lacking ‘‘concreteness.’’

On the other, all images resemble, making any photograph potentially an icon and



leading back to the initial problem�why was this image so potent?7 The only way to

distinguish would be to rely on a definition of icons based on their effects, leading us

back to the first definition and away from the properties of the visual form.

Michel Foucault (1970) illustrates the trouble with an unspecified notion of

resemblance. As a mode of thought, resemblance is either potentially limitless or

‘‘poverty-stricken’’ (p. 20). Either the possible variances in resemblance allow a

limitless supplementation of knowledge schemas, revealing little about the degree and

import of the varieties of resemblance. For this prospect, we might point to the

concept of ‘‘representative form,’’ which seems to lack the analytic capacity to

demarcate particular images since any form can be used as or taken to be

representative. Or, resemblance is ‘‘poverty-stricken’’ in the sense that the critic can

always judge the resemblance insufficient. How could a static moment ever resemble

a drawn-out event or process? This mode of seeing encourages an over-emphasis on

looking at the image. Taken to an extreme, looking at what is present in the image

can always disqualify the image as evidence of any object or event, since, as Rudolph

Arnheim (1969) argues, every visual perception abstracts from the invisible or

nonpresent (like ‘‘seeing’’ the other side of a cube).

This second notion of icons assumes that resemblance stems from the modes of

photographic realism. This is a singular notion of resemblance, ignoring diversity in

modes of seeing. For instance, Foucault (1970) outlines four types of resemblance

prevalent in medieval thought (pp. 17�34). He describes the genealogical move from

resemblance to representation in the progression of the human sciences. Before the

17th century, cultural beliefs assumed that language and knowledge proceeded from

one of the four major resemblances. First is convenientia, which is resemblance by

proximity. The second is aemulatio or resemblance by emulation or reflection (a

mirror), probably the conception Edwards and Winkler rely upon. The third is

resemblance by analogy, neither visual nor substantial. Resemblance by the play of

sympathies constitutes the final type, exemplified by the principle of like attracting

like. None of the theorists who define the icon as resemblance distinguish the variants

with such clarity as Foucault. The point is not to deny that the icon resembles its

signified but to insist the particular form of resemblance demands further

explication.

In the next section, I turn to Eastern Orthodox theology and history in order to

clarify the particular form of resemblance at work in the icon. The icon, according to

Orthodox thought, represents a type of resemblance unaccounted for by Foucault,

perhaps because his genealogy of Western thought ignored the icon’s Byzantine roots.

The specific type of resemblance at play in the icon is not a realistic aemulatio, as

Edwards and Winkler imply, nor a resemblance due to proximity, attraction, or

analogy. Instead, the icon includes many of these types of resemblance, lying

somewhere between ‘‘concrete’’ realism and ‘‘abstract’’ symbolism. The icon is a

concrete embodiment of an abstract state; it is a hypostasis of the spiritual and

material. Thus, iconographers follow techniques of symbolical realism, aiming for

neither complete concrete naturalism nor wholly abstract symbolism. There is a

relationship of resemblance between the signifier image and signified message, but

470 E. Jenkins


not strictly visual and not exclusively resemblance by analogy, proximity, or

sympathy. The Orthodox icon includes some elements of realistic resemblance and

some elements of resemblance by sympathy, making it a unique form.

Icon in Orthodox Thought and Practice

The contrast between the realistic and symbolic modes of seeing explains the

recurring bouts of iconoclasm that mark human history. Throughout history, clashes

over eikons periodically erupt, contributing to the Great Schism, the Protestant

reformation, the Soviet attack on religion, and today, the movements against

sexuality and violence on television. Indeed, iconoclastic controversies trace to the

earliest known writings on the subject of the image. In his intellectual history of

iconoclasm, Alain Besancon (2000) depicts the artist Xenophanes as the original

iconoclast, whose theology of a god completely other and universal demanded

condemnation of the attempt to portray his form (pp. 19�21). Xenophanes responds

to his counterparts in the Orphic movement, reserving particular scorn for the

anthropomorphism of Homer and Hesiod. This movement viewed depictions of the

divine as allegories or moral personifications, rather than mimetic replications. As

such, divine images were justified attempts to portray the transcendent meanings of

the soul, counterposed against the corporeal body. Such thinking anticipates Plato’s

conception of the soul and his distinction between two notions of light and vision,

differentiated by Martin Jay (1993) as the ‘‘lux’’ of ‘‘human sight’’ and the ‘‘lumen’’ of

‘‘the eye of the mind’’ (p. 29).

Multiple scholars perceive a preeminence of vision in Western epistemology, often

assumed to emanate from Plato.8 However, both Jay and Besancon point to a tension

between Plato’s reverence for the inner vision of the soul, able to grasp true forms,

and the misleading sensory vision, best represented in The Republic by the shadows in

the allegory of the cave. Plato even banishes the painter from his ideal republic. This

is not to disabuse the iconphilic perception, only to replace the proper understanding

of Plato as iconoclast enemy number one. Instead, the tension between respect and

distrust of images continuously reemerges throughout the course of Western thought.

A dissociative strategy of praising certain images while condemning their counter-

parts, rather than an outright dismissal or acceptance, best marks the supposed

iconophile and iconophobe alike. Finnegan and Kang (2004) label this strategy

‘‘subtle iconoclasm,’’ opposed to a ‘‘gross iconoclasm’’ that rejects all images.

This subtle iconoclasm stems from the contrast between the lux and the lumen, the

realistic and the symbolic modes of seeing. The mind’s eye is respected for the

meaning and value it brings to human existence yet feared for the horrific

consequences of such ideological visions. The human eye, in contrast, is respected

for the concreteness it bestows yet feared for its propensity to mislead and mis-take.

When an image maker attempts to portray the sights of the mind in the garb of the

eye, the fears are activated. Such fears can galvanize bouts of iconoclasm, leading to

the destruction of images and the violent repression of their makers.



One such bout is the historical period known as Orthodox iconoclasm, illustrating

the clashes that erupt from the conflict between the lux and the lumen. The historical

period is usually thought to extend between 726 and 842 CE in the Byzantine world.

Most historians hold that Byzantine iconoclasm occurred in two major periods

during which iconoclasts came to power and initiated the widespread ‘‘destruction of

images’’ indicated by the name*iconoclasm (Ouspensky, 1992a, pp. 109�115).

Around 730, Emperor Leo III issued a decree against the worship of icons, galvanizing

a retort from St. John of Damascus entitled In Defense of the Holy Icon. During the

first period from 726 until 787, the iconoclasts ruled, with the violence reaching a

paroxysm under the reign of Emperor Constantine V, who excommunicated many

defenders of the icon and persecuted numerous followers. When Constantine V dies,

his son, Leo IV, took a more moderate stance on icons, allowing the Seventh

Ecumenical Council to gather and issue some theological guidance. In 787, basing

their decision mostly on the arguments of St. John, the Council reaffirmed the dogma

in favor of the veneration of icons. Eventually, the iconoclasts fade into history while

the Church position, which never officially wavered, returned to rule both church and

state. In response to the emotional and physical wounds of iconoclasm, iconography

and the associated theology thrive in the following centuries. This period represents a

unique intersection of art and theology that shaped an iconographic mode known as

symbolical realism, contrasted with both the lux and the lumen, the realistic and the

symbolic modes of seeing.9

To illustrate, I begin with the arguments of the iconoclasts, due to their relative

simplicity and their sustained relevance. Besancon (2000, pp. 123�126) attributes to

Constantine V the most advanced theological position. Essentially, Constantine V

creates a double-bind, based upon two contrasting modes of seeing. The icon is either

seen in the symbolic or the realistic mode, both with heretical consequences. Either

the iconographer commits heresy by attempting to represent the divine in vulgar

materials of wood and paint, or the iconographer only portrays the human nature of

Christ, heretical since this circumscribes diety by separating his divine nature.

One side of the double bind is straightforward. The Divine is uncreated and strictly

delineated from the created (Bishop Auxentios, 1987). The icon, a material symbol of

God, therefore violated this fundamental division, reducing God to a product of man.

If a rhetorical critic substituted ‘‘god-term’’ for God in this syllogism, then an analogy

to the iPod commercial might be made. Following this reasoning, the commercial

constitutes heresy by reducing a transcendent (‘‘cool’’ for instance) to the crass

materialism of the iPod. The second part of the double bind is where the theological

problems emerge. The argument runs that if the iconographer only paints the human

Christ, they misrepresent and deceive because a simply human Christ never existed.

In relation to the iPod, if the advertisers claim to promote the material, consumerist

elements of cool (i.e., coolness depends on the right products) then they blaspheme

by assuming cool, the transcendent status, can be reduced to its materialistic

elements.

Status plays a major role in the response of the iconodules (supporters of icons),

particularly through the concept of hypostasis. To the iconodules, the icon does not

472 E. Jenkins


attempt to represent God, avoiding the first claim of heresy. However, icons do not

depict a human Christ either; they portray the hypostasis of Christ, the person of Jesus

in which human and divine natures are joined. The iconographer answers the second

claim of heresy by not portraying a human, complete with scars, warts, pimples, and

dirt. The iconographer portrays a mutually material and spiritual Christ*Christ

incarnate. Thus, iconoclasts are the true heretics. The existence of Christ requires that

he take a visual form. By denying his image, iconoclasts denied Christ, who was God’s

image incarnate. The icon ‘‘constitutes a real image of that which it depicts. The image

is in some way a ‘true’ form of the prototype, participating in it and integrally bound

to it’’ (Bishop Auxentios, 1987, para 15). Iconodules and iconoclasts viewed the other

as heretics due to this fundamental contradiction in dogma, contributing to the

violent fervor of the period.

After Byzantine iconoclasm, theology influenced the direction of the art. The

Church discouraged the ‘‘writing’’ of icons featuring either a symbol for Christ or a

naturalistic depiction of him.10 The image was to be neither the material Christ nor the

inexpressible divine. The advocates distinguished between symbols (such as a burning

bush), which represents without being God’s essence, and icons, which embody the

hypostasis of Christ or the Holy Spirit. Believers should not worship symbols since they

do not materialize the divine. Additionally, one should not worship portraiture since it

does not represent the spiritual person. Instead, iconography develops the techniques

Ouspensky (1992a) calls ‘‘symbolical realism,’’ somewhere between naturalistic realism

and symbolic, ‘‘abstract’’ art (p. 178). This period is widely considered a major

achievement in art history, developing unique notions of perspective, light, color, and

symbolism which are detailed in the analysis of the iPod ads.

In short, the Byzantine icon was conceived as a solution to the dilemmas of

iconoclasm*the respect of images for their truth-value and distrust of images for

their ability to deceive. The icon developed a unique mode of seeing, a particular

combination of content and form that attempted to straddle this divide. We might

label these three modes the mind’s eye, the human eye, and the divine eye. The divine

eye directs the viewer to see the icon as a hypostasis, which literally means the status

beneath or the essence of a thing. The icon was considered a hypostasis*a concrete

embodiment of an underlying spiritual message. Thus the icon was neither wholly

secular nor sacred, neither body nor spirit, neither concrete nor abstract, neither mere

appearance nor mere representation, neither grossly material nor solely symbolic. The

icon was a mode of seeing that fused the lux and the lumen, where the transcendent

truths of the soul make an appearance to the earthly eye. In a sense, the icon

established a nonarbitrary relationship between the signifier and signified because the

image resembles the transcendent whole. It shows the Holy Spirit embodied in active

qualities such as patience and penitence. The icon is thought to depict the spiritual as

it appeared in an embodied moment. Thus the names of icons usually signal the

spiritual message, such as the icons named Christ the teacher and Theotokos (Mary)

of tenderness. These icons do not depict the divine (God’s infinite tenderness or

wisdom) but instead depict one instance of the spirit, imbibed by specific human

personifications.



Needless to say, iconoclastic controversy still lingers today, replete with the

dissociative fear of certain images and reverence of others. As such, image-makers

frequently turn to iconographic techniques to address controversy.11 For instance,

advertising continues to be influenced by the recurring reverberations of iconoclasm.

The value of images in advertisement became evident in the early 20th century,

according to historian Roland Marchand (1985), when advertisers adopted visuals

out of the belief that they invited fewer counterarguments. Images ‘‘deflected

skepticism’’ and ‘‘inspired belief ’’ (p. 236). In cultural perception, photographs come

equipped with a realism that Finnegan (2001b) calls the ‘‘naturalistic enthymeme.’’

People value authenticity and believe photographs represent events objectively, a

belief she also names the ‘‘documentary mode’’ (Finnegan, 2001a). It is these cultural

modes of seeing that supply images with their disarming power, leading Hariman and

Lucaites (2003) to call such beliefs ‘‘the natural attitude of ideology’’ (p. 37). On the

same trail, Roland Barthes (1977) finds danger in the photographic consciousness of

its ‘‘having-been-there’’ which naturalizes the myths of images (p. 44).12 The

naturalizing power explains why advertisers increasingly turned to the visual in an

iconoclastic environment.

Despite this documentary value, images also face severe criticism for their

persuasive power and propagandistic implications. Critics quickly viewed images as

a way to advance claims that would be either illegal or unethical if expressed directly

in words (such as cigarette smoking makes one youthful).13 The result is an equally

prevalent attitude of iconophobia�a distrust of the idolatry of imagery in Francis

Bacon’s sense. Advertisers try to deflect criticisms by disarming the iconophobic

tendencies. As such, the icon returns as a popular approach. W. J. T. Mitchell (1986)

concludes:

Indeed, not only the arts, but all the means of communication in the modernpolitical economy*television, print journalism, film, radio*seem to share in aglobal network of what might be called ‘‘mediolatry’’ or ‘‘semiotic fetishism.’’‘‘Image-making’’ in advertising, propaganda, communications, and the arts hasreplaced the production of commodities in the vanguard of advanced capitalistsocieties. (p. 202)

Icons, then, are not antiquated and quaint historical images but a particular type of

visual form embodying a powerful and recurrent ideological response to iconoclasm.

In particular, advertisers employ icons to advance transcendent and spiritual claims

about their products while avoiding perceptions of a blasphemous materialism. In the

next section, I illustrate how Apple Computer deploys iconic form in its television

advertisements for just such an ideological purpose, constituting the iPod as an iconic

hypostasis and the corporation as its devoted votary.

iPod Television Commercials: Iconic or Symbolic?

Perhaps the most recently emergent icon is Apple’s iPod music player, through which

some commentators perceive a cultural revolution stemming from consumer

infatuation with the device.14 Numerous i-neologisms attempt to encapsulate the

474 E. Jenkins


iconic message. Apparently, the ‘‘iPod Generation’’ drives the ‘‘iPod revolution,’’

creating a ‘‘world-changing’’ ‘‘iPod economy’’ and an ‘‘age of iPod politics.’’15

Newsweek hails the ‘‘iPod Nation’’ in a cover story,16 while New York Times columnist

St. John (2004) decries the swarms of zombie-like ‘‘iPod people.’’ In the neologisms,

the iPod serves as a synecdoche for widespread changes in media and consumption

habits.

Although at first many observers scoffed at the breakthrough claims, predictions of

an i-revolution now seem verified, transforming both the cultural and business

landscape. Through June of 2008, Apple has sold more than 163 million iPods, a

number that accounts for over 70 percent of all portable digital music players sold.

Business analyst after business analyst praised the iPod as an unparalleled model of

innovation and marketing. The advertising campaign featured ads with shadowy

silhouettes wearing the white iPods and earbuds. The television spots garnered major

critical acclaim, receiving one of the New York American Marketing Association’s

EFFIE awards for most effective campaigns of 2004. As testament to the success,

multiple musicians and companies piggybacked on the iPod’s success by incorporat-

ing the device into their own pitches (Kahney, 2005, pp. 140�142). Fashion

commentator Brooks (2005) declares, ‘‘The iPod has moved from hip accessory to

lifestyle classic almost immediately’’ (Quoted in Kahney, 2005, p. 64). Leander

Kahney (2005) calls it The Cult of the iPod.

In this section, I contend the iPod commercials follow iconic form by embodying a

particular hypostasis�the experience of immersion in music.17 I first read the

commercials according to a perspective I label the symbolic. This perspective closely

parallels the approach established by Erwin Panofsky (1955) along with the method

of Hariman and Lucaites and Edwards and Winkler alike. Panofsky maintains

iconography ‘‘concerns itself with the subject matter or meaning of works of art, as

opposed to their form’’ (p. 30). He constructs a method for uncovering meaning,

consisting of three steps. First, in preiconographical description, the critic catalogs the

factual matter of the image, such as the objects and the configurations of line and

color. Second, in iconographical analysis, the critic isolates the secondary subject

matter, such as the themes and motifs. Finally, the critic ventures iconological

interpretation, depicting the intrinsic meaning underlying the image. Iconological

analysis asks what a work tells us about the basic attitudes of ‘‘a nation, a period, a

class, a religious or philosophical persuasion’’ (Panofsky, 1955, p. 30). In the symbolic

read of the iPod, I emulate this method before demonstrating how the symbolic

mode misses what the commercial does, illustrated by the iconic form and techniques

embodied therein.

The iPod Ads: A Symbolic Read

The commercials include five primary compositional elements: the dancing

silhouettes, a uniform neon backdrop, upbeat music, the white iPod, and a small

amount of text and logo. From these compositional elements, three themes can be

isolated. Symbolically, the commercial is hip, energetic, and youthful. The choice of



songs is instructive. Groups such as the Black Eyed Peas, Jet, the Vines, and Ozomatli

signify the trendy and indie*popular among youthful audiences but slightly off the

radar of mainstream radio. One song, ‘‘Channel Surfing,’’ sparked discussions on

several message boards due to its obscurity. Many posters recognized samples from

the Sol Brothers and Gang Starr, yet the real group, Feature Cast, eluded discovery

until Apple released the name.18 This is hip music, for those energetic and youthful

enough to keep up.

Heath and Potter (2004) outline the elements of ‘‘hip’’ (p. 193). ‘‘Hip’’ prefers the

new, the urban, blackness, the body, the self, and antiauthoritarianism over their

square counterparts. The iPod ads speak ‘‘hip.’’ The background setting of the ads is

unmistakably urban. Each cut features a solid neon background, in orange, blue,

green, yellow, or pink. The association between neon colors and urban environments

is high, perhaps due to the lights under roving ‘‘pimped’’ vehicles or the lights above

raging new nightclubs. The silhouettes, however, encapsulate the pinnacle of ‘‘hip.’’

The blackened shadows display distinctive fashion and hair styles while executing

astounding feats of individualism in dance, symbolizing the new and the urban.

Often one element of the wardrobe glows in a faint black-light white, enhancing the

individualism of the dancers. The self is condensed to body through the darkness of

the silhouette and the association with the sensual pleasures of dance; yet, the

amazing moves allow individualism to shine through. Some dances also feign

rebellion, from pumping fists to Eminem shoving a silhouette and spiking the

microphone. Above all, the minimal prior exposure to the silhouette technique

contributes to the ‘‘hip’’ tone through association with modish tools.

The commercials also convey an excited tone about the iPod. The music averages

the speedy tempo of 119 beats-per-minute. The music is upbeat and vivacious, with a

catchy hook and repetitive loop designed for dance-ability. From the initial moment,

the music bursts out, loud and sudden. The commercial ends in a similarly abrupt

manner, usually with a screeching guitar or sound effect. The tune builds to a

crescendo, culminating in a break before returning to the original measure. A new cut

appears approximately every 1.54 seconds, barely giving the viewer enough time to

register before switching again. Further, within some of the longer cuts, the editors

splice in several shots from various angles. At least four characters are introduced in a

30-second period. Frantic dancing, rapid-fire lyrics, and the spastic bouncing of

earbuds all accentuate the excited tone.

At this point, this read of the iPod commercials appears accurate and undoubtedly

contributes to understanding the iPod’s popularity. What does the symbolic emphasis

miss? To paraphrase Carole Blair (1999), this read misses what the text does by

focusing on what it means. In her study on the Vietnam Memorial, Blair (1999)

explicates the consequences: ‘‘Even if we were to accomplish the impossible and

catalogue the full range of meanings referenced by a symbolic formulation, we would

not therefore be in any better position than when we began to account for its

consequence’’ (p. 19). For instance, reading the themes in the songs of the iPod

commercials produces a confusing melange of love, rebellion, celebration, and lust,

none necessarily connected to the commercial’s meaning. As Carole Blair (1999)

476 E. Jenkins


states, ‘‘the very notion of a ‘symbol’ teaches us to reach outside it for its meaning’’

(p. 19). Furthermore, the meanings of hip, excited, and youthful do little to explain

the widespread celebration and even cultic devotion to the silhouetted images.

Advertisers have regularly mined these themes for pitches since the late 1950s,

according to Thomas Frank (1997) and Heath and Potter (2004). In the world of

advertising, nothing says trite more than suggesting a product is cool and youthful. In

a previous version of this paper, Kevin DeLuca excoriated my analysis of hip as

‘‘banal,’’ retorting, ‘‘Have you seen a car commercial recently?’’ The commercial’s

symbolic meanings do not explain the reverence the image garnered in circulation.

iPod Ads: An Iconic Read

The symbolic mode produces one interpretation of the iPod ads. However, the ads

also employ the visual techniques of symbolical realism which invite and cue the

reader to another interpretation. Reading the ads through a symbolic lens, the

primary symbol is thought to be the iPod. A tendency emerges with the symbolic

mode, then, to read the message as one representing the status of that symbol*i.e.,

‘‘The iPod is hip.’’ Instead, an iconic read asks what hypostasis the commercial

embodies. Rather than offering meaning about the iPod, the commercial works

primarily to convey a hypostasis of immersion in music. Every element*from the

dancers to the music player*is necessary to experience this escape.19 Again, a

hypostasis is formed; the ad simulates one moment of immersion to represent the

transcendent whole. I first explain this experience of immersion and then illustrate

how the ad follows many of the iconographic techniques of Orthodox art.

The experience of watching the ads, when engulfed in the 30-second moment,

simulates the experience of the world through headphones. Anyone who has

traversed public space while entranced in their favorite song recognizes the

experience, similar to the feeling one gets when consumed in dance. The world

seems to become mute, while people appear to move in harmony with your song. The

listener experiences an immediate and total noise that emanates from the inside,

shutting out the panauditory experience of proliferating noise common in

contemporary life.20 The brilliance of Apple’s iconic portrayal is in bringing together

so many associated elements of this common phenomenological experience. The

dancing, the rhythmic music, the headphones, and the neon backdrop all reference

the experience of immersion in music.

The music reminds viewers of this experience by focusing on a musical break, since

breaks build to a crescendo to work dancers into a frenzy. The music controls the

entire dispositio, dictating timing and directing quicker cuts to approach the

crescendo. The structure goes through a short build while introducing the dancers.

It progressively grows busier, spiced with lyrics and moves, until the beat breaks. Only

after the break does text appear in order to minimize interference with the overall

structure; even the textual screens cut to the rhythm. The structure of the

commercials emulates a musical break, guiding the organization of the cuts. The

structure simulates breaks, while breaks recall the experience of immersion. For



many, breaks, most known for break dancing, emblematize escape in dancing. Hip-

hop, for instance, grew out of block parties where DJs mixed old breaks to create new

tracks. More than association with the hip, however, the ads incorporate a break to

replicate immersion in music. Therefore, the structure maintains a crucial consistency

with the message, conforming to iconic logic.21

Orthodox iconographic practices rely on a similar consistency of content and

structure, inviting the reader to complete the hypostasis, like a form of visual

enthymeme. The practices of Orthodox iconography construct a way of seeing

somewhere between naturalism and symbolism, the lux and the lumen. Ouspensky

(1992b) labels these artistic techniques ‘‘symbolical realism.’’ Symbolical realism

constructs a different mode of seeing from the naturalism of the documentary mode

and the romanticism of the symbolic mode. These practices include different uses of

perspective, light, color, and gesture, all replicated in the iPod ads. Each element

conveys a correspondence between the content and form of the icon, cueing the

viewer to see the image as a realistic depiction of transcendence rather than a

symbolic re-presentation.

First, Ouspensky (1992a) details iconic correspondence in the technique of

‘‘reverse’’ or ‘‘inverted’’ perspective common in icon paintings (pp. 492�495).

Beginning in the Renaissance, the conception of linear perspective dominates

Western art. Linear perspective emulates three-dimensional space by constructing

parallel lines running into the painting and merging at a common vanishing point.

This approach gives the illusion of depth and centers the perspective at a single point

outside the image. The viewer looks into the image as indicated by the renowned

metaphor of Alberti’s window.22 Inverse perspective reverses this procedure. In the

icon, everything in the image comes out into the real space of the viewer; as

Ouspensky (1992a) puts it, ‘‘The representation is limited to the foreground’’

(p. 495). The perception of depth is erased along with the singular ‘‘point of view’’ of

linear perspective. Instead of the viewer looking into the image, the image protrudes

into the viewer’s space. This is why many icons are designed to conform to the

architecture of the surrounding church (Trubetskoi, 1973, pp. 25�26).

Although the iPod ads do not replicate inverse perspective exactly, two aspects of

the ads point to the similarities. First, the neon backdrop eliminates any perception of

depth; the figures do not cast shadows and nothing distinguishes the floor from the

ceiling from the back wall. Secondly, the camera-work places the viewer inside the

scene, rather than as an outside observer looking in. At times, we see from the ‘‘floor’’

underneath the dancers or the ‘‘ceiling’’ above them. At others, we are moved in close,

almost next to the dancer, only able to see their profile or their hand gripping the

iPod.23 The point of view almost constantly changes, differing dramatically from the

singular linear perspective.

Another antecedent, also spawned from the demands of symbolical realism, is the

use of light. The light, known as the ‘‘background’’ in iconography, conveys a spiritual

rather than earthly source. Solrunn Nes (2004) states, ‘‘It (light) radiates from the

motif itself, and not, as in the case of realistic painting, from a conjectured exterior

source of light’’ (p. 20). Traditionally, artists crafted with gold paint or gold flakes to

478 E. Jenkins


bestow a divine glow.24 The iPod ads employ a different medium than gold; the

background (light) shines in bright neon. There are no shadows; the only shadows in

the image (the silhouettes) cast no shadow. The neon light serves the same function

as in iconography, namely, to contrast the earthly figures (of sin, shadow) and the

spiritual experience. Another crucial element in iconographic light is the halo, used to

designate divinity. An interesting comparison with the iPod ads rests in the way the

silhouette outlines seem to shimmer and the spastic bouncing of the white earbuds

around the dancer’s heads. Columnist Seth Stevenson (2004), who describes the ads

as mesmerizing, puts it best:

Almost everything that might distract us*not just background scenery, but eventhe actors’ faces and clothes*has been eliminated. All we’re left to focus on is thaticonic gizmo. What’s more, the dark black silhouettes of the dancers perfectly offsetthe iPod’s gleaming white cord, earbuds, and body. (para. 5)25

The final two aspects, color and gesture, rely on the silhouettes. The silhouettes aid

the balance between symbolic and realistic, furthering symbolical realism. First, the

silhouettes look like common people. Ouspensky (1992a) notes that there was

significant effort in icon painting to remain true to the general bodily features of the

portrayed. ‘‘The human body, although represented in a manner which is not

naturalistic, is, however, with very rare exceptions completely logical: Everything is in

its place. The same is true of clothing . . .’’ (p. 187). The same is true of the

silhouettes, helping convey a sense of realism. However, the silhouettes efface the

historical details*the scars, the zits, the brands, their races. In iconic painting this is

done mostly through color: the flesh is given an unnatural tint, the face holds little

expression, and the other gestures suggest ascetism. The focus is not human

particularity but transcendence, making it necessary to reduce potential distractions

in the image (what Barthes’ (1981) might call punctums). The iconographer tries to

secure attention on the transcendent, directing focus away from the materialistic

elements. In Orthodox practice, focus is directed towards the heavenly colors.

Trubetskoi (1973) shows that in icon painting, the divine figures were often

surrounded by heavenly colors, represented metaphorically by the colors of the sky.

The colors were mostly bright blues and reds and yellows, creating a glow very similar

to the neon of the iPod ads. These colors envelop the figures, casting them in a

heavenly aura. The iPod’s radiant whiteness also suggests the divine. Through

distinctive contrast, the neon background helps center attention on the white iPod

and the blackened dancers.

Finally, comparing the gestures of the silhouettes and the personifications in icon

paintings reveal, quite a divergence. The personifications rarely move, suggesting

ascetism over worldly dissipations. Their hands hold a solemn gesticulation, often in

prayer, and their eyes gaze either heavenward or inward, beyond the immediate

surroundings. The silhouettes, in contrast, move constantly, extraordinarily, in

amazing feats of arduous enjoyment. Yet, both convey the same message that the

figures are enveloped by and concentrate on the divine. The silhouette is overcome by

the divine, immersed in dance. Their astounding flips, splits, twists, and turns are



simultaneously realistic and extraordinary. Similarly, the personified saint is

overcome by the divine, captured in prayerful communion or penitent reflection.26

The gestures seem realistic, yet, forever frozen, portray extraordinary feats of

devotion. The images are of the divine but offered to the world; the figures are

swept up in the divine, for the good of humans. This is why the primary figures

almost always address the viewer. Personifications face the viewer and open towards

them. Likewise, the silhouette clearly dances for the viewer, who sits in the best seat in

the house, with a gaze capable of revolving 360 degrees in an instant.27

The iPod commercial synecdochically embodies a hypostasis of immersion in

music by constructing a mode of symbolical realism, somewhere between abstract

and concrete. Through inverse perspective, divine light, heavenly color, and

enraptured gestures, the ads portray the experience of immersion in music. Apple

insists that it sells this transcendent experience, rather than a mere commodity,

positioning the company as the dedicated votary of the spiritual experience rather

than another mindless corporation bent on monetary gain and material pleasures.

While the icon is undoubtedly a powerful ideological tool, the question remains: How

do icons achieve the status of the divine, inspiring a cultic devotion remarked upon

by Benjamin and captured by Apple?

Conclusion

The icon comprises a unique form with important implications for visual criticism.

Following iconic form, the iPod commercials construct a (theo-)logic through the

practices of perspective, light, color, and gesture. These techniques cue a mode of

seeing distinct from the ‘‘concrete’’ naturalism of the documentary mode and

‘‘abstract’’ symbolism. This mode directs the viewer to see a hypostasis*a concrete

embodiment of the transcendent whole. This visual logic allows Apple to address the

iconoclastic charges of heresy mentioned earlier. The commercial does not argue that

the iPod is cool or that being cool requires an iPod. Instead, the commercial

constructs a synecdoche of a broader hypostasis by simulating the immersion in

music. Thus, the commercial argues that the experience is hip, not the iPod. It just so

happens that having an iPod allows the experience, transforming Apple from a sinful

corporation into the votary of hip. The commercial does not lie or manipulate,

deflecting the iconophobia of advertising. The cult reveres the experience and simply

‘‘sees’’ the iPod as an icon of that experience.

Of course, many other factors affect the influence of icons. Not all images that

follow symbolic realism will necessarily produce such strong responses, whether due

to limitations in craft or in the resonance of the message with the contemporary

atmosphere. Likewise, not all icons will strike a chord, guaranteeing continued

circulation. Icons can articulate to a wide diversity of ideological meanings and the

form can be replicated and reproduced with ease. Thus most iconic forms and their

transcendent meanings will fall on barren ground. An icon achieves the status of a

divine image only when it becomes culturally accepted as a natural fusion of meaning

and form through continued use.

480 E. Jenkins


The continued use of the iPod as an icon of the digital age illustrates the success of

Apple’s techniques of symbolic realism in securing their brand image. Of course, the

mode of symbolic realism is not the only way to see the Apple brand image, as

represented here by the iPod commercials. The viewer might see the ads symbolically

and conclude that the message is arbitrary and the cult is ridiculous. Devotion to

such played-out tropes as coolness and youthfulness can appear to be the most

absurd delusion, one committed by the cultic iPod zombies who have abandoned the

life of the mind for an insatiable desire to consume. Warren St. John’s zombie

accusation is only one of many such charges from various critics. Another way to see

the iPod commercials is through the realistic mode of seeing. Here, the ads simply

peddle a material product, one that should be judged based on its functional

characteristics such as technological capability and price. Based on these criteria, the

iPod does not seem particularly unique or even the best option. Kahney’s research

reveals that the iPod was ‘‘neither the first hard drive player, nor the biggest, nor the

cheapest.’’28 Columnist Lukas Hauser writes a scathing review of the iPod, noting the

cheaper price and larger memory of competitors.29

In short, viewed through a realistic mode, the iPod advertisements are misleading.

Viewed through a symbolic mode, the ads are trite at best and delusional at worst.

Not everyone joins the cult. Yet this is not the only way of seeing the advertisements

or Apple’s brand image. Viewed through the divine eye of symbolical realism, the

iPod accrues another value beyond the symbolic and the pragmatic*cult value.

Benjamin’s (1996b) famous ‘‘The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological

Reproducibility’’ essay notes the connection between cult value and ritual. He states,

‘‘the unique value of the ‘authentic’ work of art always has its basis in ritual’’ (105). A

cult is formed through participation in ritual, and the rituals bestow authenticity on

the cult’s works of art. Thus for an icon to achieve divine status, the viewer must

participate in its ritualization. Symbolical realism encourages such participation. The

members of the cult must engage in a particular mode of seeing, reading the clues to

the divine and garnering the hypostasis. Where others see another materialistic

advertisement dressed up in symbolic garb, the members of the cult see an ad which

portrays a divine experience*the immersion in music. Where others see an arbitrary

connection between product and image, the viewers see an inherent connection*an

appropriate fusion of content and form.

A brand image can inspire a cult following only by allowing the user or viewer to

participate in its ritualization and construction. Only if the iPod becomes my iCon

can a cult emerge. The cult is participatory, drawing its value through rituals such as

seeing through the mode symbolical realism. The techniques of light, perspective,

gesture, and color cue the reader, who then participates by ‘‘seeing’’ in the mode of

symbolic realism. This mode is not the only way users participate in ritual, but seeing

with the divine eye is a crucial part of being in the cult. Symbolic realism encourages

the viewer’s participation. In a sense, the iPod advertisements construct an

enthymeme whose missing element is the user. They suggest that ‘‘you, too’’ can

experience the divine immersion in music if only you participate in the appropriate

rituals. This explains why symbolical realism tries to minimize the concreteness of the



depiction and why the advertisements feature shadowy silhouettes rather than

recognizable people. The emptiness of the silhouettes allows the viewer to more easily

identify with and project themselves into the image. Too many realistic features may

distance the viewer from the image, whether due to differences in fashion, race,

gender, or other features of appearance. This identification and projection is part of

the ritual, part of the way the viewer participates in the cult.

If participation is an adequate measure of the cult, then Apple has surely

succeeded. Users revere the iPod and Apple through a variety of ritualistic uses

celebrating the divine experience. Indeed, these manifold uses closely mirror the

seven functions of holy icons outlined by Constantine Cavarnos (1977). The first

function is aesthetic, and, the iPod and silhouettes are utilized as fashion symbols in

everything from jewelry to clothing to sunglasses to murals.30 The second function is

didactic, with journalists and now Apple’s new ads using the iPod to demonstrate

‘‘how to be hip’’ in the digital revolution. The car commercials that incorporate the

iPod all draw on the mnemonic function, hoping some of the associational gas

remains left in the tank. Additionally, some people seem to have such a close

relationship with their iPod that they use it to help remind them of their experiences.

The iLounge Web site includes a photo gallery entitled ‘‘iPods around the World’’

where visitors post images of their iPod in exotic locales.

The anagogic function of icons motivates the viewer to lift themselves up to the

prototype. The iPod has encouraged a veritable explosion of such uses, from

podcasting (web radio broadcasting via the iPod) to the numerous clubs providing

time slots for iPod disc jockeys. Meanwhile, other spots feature eerily-silent dance

floors filled with patrons attuned in rhythmic harmony through hundreds of

individual iPods. The imitative function offers viewers a model for behavior,

exemplified by the numerous copy-cats of the iPod and the techniques of the

commercials. The sanctifying function points to the power of icons to transform

the whole person through a revolution in self-definition. Beyond people who become

music lovers after purchase, the iPod spawned a cultic identification. Numerous Web

sites proclaim allegiance to the iPod. Aficionados devoted leisure time to designing

their own iPod advertisements; one by George Masters even received acclaim from

advertisers. The possibility of consumer-generated marketing captured the fascina-

tion of numerous practitioners, leading public relations vice-president Steve Rubel to

declare ‘‘customer evangelism’’ the future of his field.31

The final function, the liturgical, is evident when CEO Steve Jobs says:

We were very lucky*we grew up in a generation where music was an incrediblyintimate part of that generation. More intimate than it had been, and maybe moreintimate than it is today. . . . But, nonetheless, music is really being reinvented inthis digital age . . . It’s a wonderful thing. And in our own small way, that’s howwe’re working to make the world a better place. (Goodell, 2003, last paragraph)32

The icon, the iPod, is used here to worship the referent, music. These seven functions

do not encompass all uses of the iPod, from the political (i.e., deploying the

silhouettes to culture-jam messages about Iraq) to the sentimental (i.e., greeting cards

482 E. Jenkins


featuring silhouet-tes of your own image) to the recreational (i.e., the production of

Lego people and famous figures donning the earbuds and player). However, this

diversity explains the iPod’s ability to garner cult value by enabling the ritualization of

use. Cult value requires ritual, and ritual requires participation. The user or viewer

participates in the production of the cult value by completing the enthymeme; they

are responsible for ‘‘seeing’’ the appropriate meaning. When they see the divine, other

rituals emerge to further constitute participation in the cult. The iPod becomes my

iCon through the user’s own participation, first by seeing with their divine eye and

then by engaging in rituals that celebrate the divine experience.

The audience’s participation in forming cult value suggests one final conclusion for

visual criticism. There is a tendency in the critique of imagery to approach the

criticism from either a symbolic or a realistic perspective. The realistic perspective

focuses on the pragmatic, sometimes called material, realities of the image. Critics

hope to show how the image does not match the actualities of the product and the

company, often concluding that behind these fanciful portrayals lies a real

multinational corporation bent on profit. These critiques might argue that the

iPod commercials peddle an experience of immersion in music which deflects

attention from the potential environmental consequences from the batteries of

millions of spent iPods and the probable political consequences of the individualism

and escapism of immersion, particularly the barriers to discourse that millions of

plugged-in listeners erect in the contours of public space.

The symbolic perspective trains its focus on the ideological meanings circulating

through the image. The critic insists that the image promotes a negative ideology, one

responsible for continued social and ecological strife. For instance, the messages of

youthfulness and individuality in the iPod ads undermine the sense of collectivity and

respect for history so necessary for progressive political change. The American

ideology of youthful individualism may work for an age of abundance but at the very

least faces some serious challenges as the world’s resource and environmental limits

are reached.

Both approaches have much to offer the critique of images, particularly brand

images. In an age filled with imagistic ideology, of world pictures and global

corporations, of brand images and corporate personas, critiquing the icon is an

essential task. However neither mode of seeing in these criticisms can explain how

commodities and corporations accrue cult value. The cult value does not stem from

the messages of youthfulness or individuality and occurs despite the fact that many

devotees recognize Apple’s selfish pursuit of profit. These critiques, then, seem to lack

political efficacy since they do not address the reasons for the devotion in the first

place. The users and the critics are engaged in different modes of seeing. Critics see

the image realistically or symbolically, while users see through symbolical realism.

The human eye and the eye of the mind do not see, dare I say, eye to eye with the

divine. If the point is to change the world, then seeing from the perspective of those

engaged in practice seems crucial. Critics must understand that it is the participation

in the cult that is so valued. As an alternative form of rhetoric, ideological or

materialist critique does not replace the cult value and the accompanying desire for



participation. Criticism must, to present a viable alternative, engage with these modes

of seeing and offer new opportunities for better forms of participation. Then we may

be able to broach the central question: can we transform my iPod into a real

revolution?

Notes

[1] For instance, Lester Olson defines iconology as the study of images and defines icons as a

type of image ‘‘manifest in form and denotative in function’’ (Olson, 1987, p. 38). According

to my interpretation, the Benjamin Franklin images that Olson analyzes are not icons since

they lack any inherent connection to the concept signified. Instead, they are fictionalized

drawings that are an arbitrary, if none the less potent, choice to symbolize the importance of

American unity. Furthermore, Dana Cloud equivocates icons with ‘‘enduring, easily

recognized images’’ (Cloud, 2004, p. 288). Palczewski follows Cloud and Olson.

[2] The term ‘‘through’’ here is used to signal a distinction made by Richard Lanham between

looking through images to their meanings and cultural circulation and looking at images,

focused on the particularities of their composition, features, and form. See (Lanham, 1993)

and (Lanham, 1993).

[3] Carole Blair faults rhetorical criticism for an over-emphasis on ‘‘symbolicity,’’ or, the

meanings of a message rather than their potential uses by audiences. She argues that this

blunts our understanding of rhetorical consequence. See Blair (1999).

[4] This conceptualization stems mostly from the writings of C. S. Peirce in his essay, ‘‘The Icon,

Index, and Symbol.’’ (Peirce, 1932, pp. 156�173).

[5] Umberto Eco claims this is a widely held assumption in semiotics. See Eco (1976), Leff &

Sachs (1990), and Osborn (1986).

[6] Edwards & Winkler (1997, pp. 295�296). It is admittedly a little unclear whether Edwards

and Winkler only contend that the reappropriations are not icons, or whether they mean the

original image was not an icon. In my opinion, the reappropriations are not icons, but the

original image follows the techniques and logic of iconography. I think the icon is one type of

representative form, and I try to clarify it here.

[7] This is where I diverge with Peirce’s (1932) conceptualization of icons, particularly in

relation to photographs. An index, according to Peirce, is a signifier whose relationship is not

based on resemblance, but is based on a ‘‘dynamical connection,’’ ‘‘physically connected’’

with the signified (p. 170, 168). Examples include footprints as signs of an animal or

pointing to indicate direction. Peirce calls the photograph an index on numerous occasions,

because the photograph is leaves a physical trace of light from the real signified.

‘‘Photographs, especially instantaneous photographs, are very instructive because we know

that they are in certain respects exactly like the objects they represent. But this resemblance is

due to the photograph having been . . . physically forced to correspond by point to nature. In

that aspect, then, they belong to the second class of signs, those by physical connection’’ (p.

159). My analysis should illustrate that photographs might be an index, icon, or symbol, in

numerous possible combinations. Peirce’s classification assumes predigital age limitations in

doctoring photos and a similar assumption about the concrete and abstract that this paper

critiques.

[8] For a summary, see Jay (1993, pp. 21�26).

[9] While I will focus on the theological argument, this is not to ascribe determinism to the

theological over the historical. Many other political and cultural factors contributed to the

outbreak of iconoclasm as well. For instance, many historians believe Emperor Leo III began

destroying images to remove a major political opponent, whether the monks who controlled

education of the time or the Jews and Moslems whose influence was rising at the time and

484 E. Jenkins


whose holy book explicitly condemned images of God. See the footnotes in Ouspensky

(1992a, pp. 107�109).

[10] Besancon claims the appropriate term, historically and theologically, is to ‘‘write.’’ He also

notes the Church’s discouragement of the use of symbols. See (Besancon, 2000, pp. 134, 121�

122) For discussion of the Church’s discouragement of realistic portraiture, see Ouspensky

(1992a), Chapter 10, ‘‘The meaning and content of the icon’’).

[11] See the edited collection: Heller & Vienne (2003).

[12] Barthes (1977), p. 44). Of course, these authors address photographs, which may have more

of a documentary effect than television images. Yet, images in general still create the effect

Barthes discusses to at least a degree.

[13] For some of these arguments, see Messaris (1997) and Tanaka (1994). In relation to cigarette

advertising, see Pollay (1991).

[14] For just one example of the ‘‘iPod Generation’’ moniker, see ‘‘The iPod’s key role in business

change’’ (2006).

[15] The iPod generation is used in many places. The iPod revolution comes from (Serwer, 2005).

The ‘‘world-changing’’ phraseology comes from Van Camp (2004). The ‘‘iPod economy’’

comes from Bulik (2004). The age of iPod politics can be found in Poniewozik (2004).

[16] Levy (2004).

[17] Some may object to my analysis of a televisual text and a still image according to the same

terms. Some argue that still images are more likely to be icons. Both Schneck and Hariman

and Lucaites draw this conclusion. See Schneck (2003, pp. 111�112) and Hariman & Lucaites

(2003), p. 57) Additionally, Marshall McLuhan (1964) disparages those who fail to

distinguish between the still image and the televisual. Yet, I believe my analysis will answer

this accusation of a false analogy. Furthermore, McLuhan seems to agree with my point. He

compares the television image to the icon on multiple occasions. His description seems on

par with my own. ‘‘In visual representation of a person or an object, a single phase or

moment or aspect is separated from the multitude of known and felt phases, moments, and

aspects of the person or object. By contrast, iconographic art uses the eye as we use our hand

in seeking to create an inclusive image, made up of many moments, phases, and aspects of

the person or thing. Thus the iconic mode is not visual representation, nor the specialization

of visual stress as defined by viewing from a single position. The tactual mode of perceiving

is sudden but not specialist. It is total, synaesthetic, involving all the senses. . . . The TV

image, that is to say, even more than the icon, is an extension of the sense of touch’’

(McLuhan, 1964, p. 291). This does not mean every TV image is an icon, but that the media

contains the possibility of reverse perspective and the gestures of address that are aspects of

icons.

[18] See http://adtunes.com/forums/index.php?showtopic�1534&st�0 (accessed September 17,

2008).

[19] Similarly, Ouspensky (1992b, p. 499) argues that much of the icon’s perceived authenticity

results from the harmony between elements*the structure, techniques, materials, objects

presented*and the overall message. Every element included is deemed necessary for the

whole, similar to how, in the iPod ads, music, person, music player, and scene are necessary

to experience immersion in music. Nothing extraneous is added.

[20] For an interesting analysis on the noisy state of culture, see Simonson (2001).

[21] The consistency of content and form is a major point throughout Ouspensky’s work, but

especially in the final chapter. See (Ouspensky, 1992b).

[22] This description of linear perspective comes mostly from Jay (1993, pp. 51�60). Also see

Bolter & Grusin (1996).

[23] In another sense, the advertisements also literally intrude into the spaces of our living rooms.

To understand this, we must expand the boundary of this text to include the final seconds of

the broadcast immediately prior to the commercial. Of course, the eager social scientist

would find it extremely difficult to catalog which actual broadcasts precede the iPod



advertisements. Neither can we expect such omniscience from the designers. Regardless, all

of the prior moments can be categorized as noise, whether a clip from a favorite show or a

despised ad. In the age of noise, advocates must deal with distracted audiences and an

environment that drowns out many messages. One solution, pursued by PETA according to

Simonson (2001) as well as a plethora of marketing campaigns, relies upon louder,

discordant messages. Yet, while the iPod commercials are certainly loud, the volume does not

encompass their strategy. Instead, part of the commercial’s rhetorical force relies on a stark

contrast from the noise of other broadcasts. The ads sell escape from the surrounding noise,

engulfed in a sound and moment of your own. The noise of the previous segment quickly

dissolves into the loud, all engulfing visual and auditory sensations. The ads start abruptly,

jumping immediately into the song and the swaths of neon color. While the cuts are rapid,

the consistency of scene and song creates the impression that, for thirty seconds at least, the

viewer experiences a single, coherent moment. The moment drowns out all other sounds and

images. The dancers and the artists sing the same tune and dance to the same rhythm, even

when not on the same screen. No other words or sounds interrupt the progression or

integrity of the song. In a similar fashion, the details of setting evanesce into a solid neon

backdrop; the noisy surrounding world becomes deprived of all substance and detail. As

Roland Barthes (1972) states, ‘‘Colouring the world is always a means of denying it’’ (p. 94).

In short, the commercial jumps out of the television screen into the viewer’s world by

distinguishing itself from the normal programming.

[24] On occasions, painters conveyed shadows or an exterior source of light, but only on the

images in the setting they wanted to symbolize as earthly, sinful. Linear perspective and

shadow were used by icon artists, but they are part of a general structure dominated by

inverted perspective (Ouspensky, 1992b, p. 492).

[25] Perhaps his mesmerization explains his trenchant turn to iconoclasm. He dislikes the

commercial because it suggests the product is ‘‘timeless’’ rather than ‘‘transient junk.’’ The

iPod should not be revered*‘‘Because I’m the one with the eternal soul here.’’ His comments

should sound familiar and illustrate the continued relevance of our discussion.

[26] Trubetskoi (1973) states, ‘‘This ability is shown in our icons in different ways: sometimes by

the turn of the evangelist’s head toward an invisible light or spirit, as he momentarily stops

his work . . . sometimes not even by a turn but by the pose of a man entirely immersed in

himself . . . But this listening is always depicted in icons as a turn towards something

invisible. This is what gives the evangelists’ eyes their otherworldly expression. They do not

see their earthly surroundings’’ (p. 56).

[27] McLuhan’s (1964) distinction between hot and cold media, with television representing a

cool medium demanding a high level of viewer participation, seems appropriate here. He

argues that television constantly addresses the viewer, requiring their intimate participation

to complete the image. ‘‘In TV, the viewer is the screen’’ (p. 272). He even concludes the TV

image is iconic. For him, television and the icon primarily address the sense of touch rather

than sight.

[28] Kahney (2005), p. 10)

[29] Lukas Hauser, Smash the Ipod, Wired News, 2001, October 23, paragraph 18, http://

www.wired.com/news/gizmos/0,1452,47812,00.html. (accessed March 27, 2006).

[30] The different uses of the iPod can all be found in (Kahney, 2005).

[31] Quoted in Kahney (2005), p. 49).

[32] Goodell, Jeff. 2003, December 3. Steve Jobs: The Rolling Stone Interview. In Rolling Stone.

Retrieved March 27, 2006, from http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/5939600/steve_

jobs_the_rolling_stone_interview/(last paragraph).

486 E. Jenkins


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