Robert Rock

ANTH 281

12/13/17

Final Paper

Introduction: ​ After opening the tomb of the Egyptian King Tutankhamun and removing the pharaoh’s sarcophagus after three-millennia of undisturbed rest, the members of the exploratory team were gripped by a sudden wave of mortality. Rumors of a “curse of the pharaohs” ignited the public imagination and spread like wildfire. Though the myth of the “curse of the pharaohs” has been debunked by the normal lifespans of most team-members, the idea that a long-dead king could wield deadly spiritual powers against the living both captivated and alarmed audiences across the world.

These electrifying concepts find a less sensationalized, more “serious” mirror in the spiritual traditions of pre- and post-Hispanic Mesoamericans. To these people, death was and is not a permanent severance from the world of the living. All life force is intimately connected in one multilayered universe in which the souls of the living can leave their typical homes in the underworld and interact with the living. All spirits are innately mobile and can freely breach the physical boundaries of the “self” to travel through the air or become embodied in objects. The souls of deities and ancestors can even animate the living flesh of a ritually-prepared subject.

Though long-forgotten in the steady progress of time, the souls of Teotihuacan, once the premier polity in Central Mexico, are far from “dead.” They can be brought yet again to the world of the living to share their unique stories. By examining four objects that may have held

such spirits, I hope to bring the souls of a long “dead” civilization back to life to share their stories. Through an analysis of the properties and likely function of a Teotihuacan stone mask

(WCMA Accession No. 1957.144), two Teotihuacan figurine heads (WCMA Accession No.

50.10.A and WCMA Accession No. 50.10.B), and a Teotihuacan standing female figurine

(1974.36.8), I hope to bring to light the stories of the spirits that once inhabited these objects and thereby shed much-needed light on the mysterious people and polity of Teotihuacan.

Teotihuacan:

The Setting:

Nestled in the Valley of Teotihuacán, a sub-valley within the larger Valley of Mexico, the ancient city of Teotihuacán lies a mere 30 miles (48 km) from Mexico City in the State of

Mexico (maps in Figure I). The valley itself has a semi-dry, mild climate (Arnold, 2014:12) and a minimum elevation of 7,200 feet (2.2km) above sea level (National Research Council Staff,

1995) and encompasses an area of roughly 500 sq. km. that contains highly fertile land, obsidian sources, and a rich lake network. These lakes, (Figure II), served as natural sources of water-life and fed a vast system of irrigation agriculture (Kurtz, et. al. 1987, 329). Among the various crops grown during the Teotihuacan state’s lifetime were maize, beans, squash, tomatoes, and amaranth (Arnold, 2014). In the adjoining zones lie deposits of limestone and clay (Sanders,

1965: 22; Millon, 1981: 217-8). Mountains dominate the landscape and form the physical boundaries of the valley, with many of these peaks reaching elevations of over 16,000 ft (5 km) above sea level (National Research Council Staff, 1995).

Figure I: Map of Central America (Cowgill, 2015) Legend: 1) Teotihuacan; 2) Tula; 3) Monte Alban; 4) Xochicalco; 5) Cholula; 6) Matacapan; 7) Cerro ́Bernal; 8) Copan; 9) Kaminaljuy’u; 10) Tikal.

Figure II: Map of the Valley of Mexico in Aztec Times (University of California, San Diego)

The City and the State:

The city itself formed around 100 BCE and developed into a powerful state with a wide range of political, economic, and probably military influence (Millon, 1981: 225) that

experienced its golden age in the Xolalpan phase between 350 CE and 550 CE (Moctezuma,

2008; 67), and persisted until roughly 650 CE when the state rapidly declined (Millon, 1981:

236) that was preceded by a period of economic decline evident from ca. 600 CE onward

(Cowgill, 2015: 71). Given the apparent absence of economic or social degradation proceeding the collapse and the selective destruction of ritual centers (Millon, 1973: 39-40, 59, 63), Millon

(1981: 236) posits “internal crisis” as a potential explanation though its exact cause remains unknown.

Prior to its collapse, the state exercised a substantial level of power. This is evidenced by the city’s monumental architecture (Millon, 1981: 232), the highly standardized content of household murals (Cowgill, 2015), and the dramatic architectural reconstruction of the city around 200 CE that established large apartment compounds as the dominant dwelling unit and structured the city around a general cruciform layout (Millon, 1981: 209-10). These apartments likely served as both a basis for social organization and economic specialization and often formed larger “barrios” with coordinated economic functions (Manzanilla, 1996; 234).

Also around 200 CE, a massive expansion project on the Temple of the Moon (for a picture of the Temple of the Moon, see Figure III) suggests a vast expansion of state power.

According to Sugiyama and Cabrera Castro (2007): “...the erection during the third century A.D. of Building 4, which is nine times larger than its immediate predecessor, seems to imply a substantial growth in manageable resources and political centralization.”

Figure III: Temple of the Moon at the end of the Avenue of the Dead (Rogers, Elizabeth Barlow)

Despite the conspicuous visibility of state power, the leaders of the Teotihuacán state, unlike those of most other Mesoamerican polities, left few traces of their individual authority

(Cowgill, 1992: 212). This absence makes itself felt through a distinct lack of royal tombs and artistic depictions that portray specific rulers (Masson, 2007). The topic of rulership is further complicated by the dearth of translatable written evidence from the polity. The very existence of writing in Teotihuacan has been a matter of long debate with scholars such as Cabrera Castro

(1996d), Millon (1973), and Taube (2000) arguing in favor of its existence and others such as

Marcus (1992: 17) identifying a lack of evidence for “true writing” in Teotihuacan (Colas, 2011:

13). Recently, Cowgill (2015 : 214) suggests that the size and evident complexity of the

Teotihuacan state could not have functioned without written records and identifies the repetition of “standardized signs” throughout Teotihuacano artwork that may serve this purpose (Figure

IV). The meaning of these signs, however, remains “mysterious.” Further, if Teotihuacan had a system of writing, it is likely that many records were kept in perishable forms on media similar to the Maya bark-cloth huun (Von Hagen, 1999:9) or the Aztec gum-coated maguey, cotton, and ​ ​ palm leaf papers (Von Hagen, 1999:49; Cowgill, 2015:214). Most of these records, if they existed, would have been destroyed by the ravages of nearly two millennia of weathering and natural decay. This overall lack of written records further obscures the identification of power by denying scholars a clear record of Teotihuacan’s history and possible dynastic legends. Further, as many artistic depictions of Mesoamerican rulers are identified by the presence of name-bearing descriptions, the lack of legible glyphs in Teotihuacan renders such modes of identification impossible.

Figure IV: “Standardized signs” from the Plaza de Los Glifos (Cabrerra Castro, 1996b:33)

For the same reasons, the means through which the state’s power was established and exercised remain unknown. A possible explanation is that the polity dominated an extremely

powerful state religion that, through its resonance and ability to establish the city as a prominent pilgrimage site, gave the ruling class a profound spiritual source of authority (Millon, 1981:

230). This theory is grounded largely on the cosmology of Teotihuacan and the city elite’s apparent links with foreign nobles.

Evidence for the cosmological importance of the city is derived largely from an Aztec myth circulating at the time of the Spanish conquests that may have its origins in Teotihuacan’s ascendency (Millon, 1981: 230). According to various tellings of this myth, both the sun and the moon are either brought into creation or set in motion by the sacrifice of two deities on

Teotihuacan’s Pyramid of the Sun and Temple of the Moon, respectively (Brundage, 1983: 42,

162). If believed during Teotihuacan's existence, this would give the city tremendous ritual importance as the place where the sun, moon, and even time itself began (Millon, 1981: 231).

Control over the rituals at this uniquely sacred place and the commerce brought by pilgrimage could have allowed Teotihuacan’s rulers to consolidate significant power. According to Millon

(1981): “...it is not difficult to envisage some in the hierarchy [of the city’s elite] who would come to realize the political and economic potential of the spread of the cult, who would begin to exploit it, to use it instrumentally, to manipulate it, to transform it into a state cult, so as to consolidate the position of the hierarchy and to facilitate the expansion of the Teotihuacan state… Belief and statecraft would reinforce each other” (231).

Millon (1981) cites evidence of a relationship between the Maya elite and those of

Teotihuacan to support his identification of Teotihuacan as a major pilgrimage center of extreme importance. Within the city, the signs of this communication take the form of foreign burials. A prominent example of these burials is that of the Burial 5 complex underneath the Pyramid of the

Moon. Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan (2007) identify three individuals in this burial. Two of them, referred to by Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan as individuals 5A and 5B are associated with objects that causes Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan (2007) to posit the following preliminary interpretation of their identity: “...we believe that the three individuals were foreigners of extremely high status

(rulers, ambassadors, warriors, or merchants) who had direct connections with contemporaneous

Maya dynasties or were members of the Maya elite who visited or were brought to Teotihuacan to be buried, willingly or unwillingly, at the Moon Pyramid for reasons that are yet unknown”

(134). The “personal paraphernalia” from which Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan (2007) draw this interpretation include rectangular pectorals (Figure V) of the type frequently worn by Classic

Maya elites but are otherwise unknown in Teotihuacan, large jadeite earspools, and beads.

Figure V: Jadite pectorals from Burial 5 (Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan, 2007)

Evidence for this communication is also provided in the archaeological record of the

Classic Maya. Ceramics, pottery, and green obsidian artifacts that appear to have been imported from Teotihuacan or bear Teotihuacano stylistic influence have been found in many Maya centers including Tikal (Pendergast, 1971:455). Further, murals from Tikal and Uaxatun appear to depict Teotihuacano warriors (Estrada-Belli, et. a.l: 2009: 228). Perhaps the most mysterious evidence for this communication is the Maya glyphic records which recount various

Teotihuacano “conquests” of Maya centers. Naachtun Stela 24 (Figure VI) records the “entry”

of Sihyaj K’ahk’ into and subsequent assumption of rulership of Naachtun in 378 CE (Stuart,

2014). Various interpretations have identified Sihyaj K’ahk’ as either a local noble with political support from Teotihuacan, an elite from Teotihuacan who affected a coup in this Mayan center, or a Teotihuacan noble who led an army of conquest to capture and rule the city (Stuart, 2014;

Estrada-Belli, et. al.: 2009: 228).

Figure VI: Nachtuun Stela 24 (Photograph by Ignacio Cases)

A lack of clear mural or glyphic evidence from Teotihuacan, however, prevents a definitive attribution of the Teotihuacan state’s power to the city’s function as a pilgrimage center. Another potential source of power, which may not necessarily have been mutually exclusive with the city’s religious role, is the military. Taube (1992) identifies evidence of a

“cult of sacred war” in his examination of the “Temple of Quetzalcoatl” (Figure VII) (this temple will be referred to from now on as the “Temple of the Feathered Serpent” as “Quetzalcoatl” is a deity in the Aztec pantheon and is thus anachronistic when applied to Teotihuacan). According

to Taube’s analysis, this temple, the third largest within the city (Cowgill, 1983:322) and likely erected between 100 and 200 CE (Cowgill, 2015: 83), bears elements such as depictions of mirrors and alternating carvings of a feathered serpent passing through mirrors and a “War

Serpent” (Figure VIII) , that strongly resemble depictions in Maya and Zapotec tradition that were tied to the concept of war. Taube (1992:78) further identifies a link between the temple’s symbolism and the myth of sacred creation at Teotihuacan. This suggests that Teotihuacan may have attained power through a synergistic employment of a powerful state religion and the coercive authority generated by its associated “warrior cult.”

Figure VII: Temple of the Feathered Serpent facade showing alternating carvings of the “War Serpent (identifiable by its “platelle helmet” and goggles) and a feathered serpent passing through a rimmed-mirror (Taube, 1992)

Figure VIII: A “war serpent” carving from the Temple of the Feathered Serpent (drawing by

Taube, 1992)

The mysterious nature of the state’s authority and the apparent absence of leaders in mural and glyphic depictions has lead scholars such as Rene Millon to postulate the presence of collective leadership, religious constraints on the powers of rulership, or even leading offices with set terms (Millon, 1988). An alternative explanation is encouraged by the aforementioned

Temple of the Feathered Serpent. Taube (1992:82) identifies the War Serpent and feathered serpent as common symbols of rulership across central Mexico and postulates: “It is possible that the alternating serpent heads, Quetzalcoatl [the feathered serpent] and the War Serpent, refer to deal aspects of rulership, the feathered serpent with fertility and the interior affairs of the state, and the War Serpent with military conquest and empire” (83). This possibility is furthered by the discovery of almost 200 sacrificial victims buried under the temple. An analysis of the bones and their associated artifacts identifies many individuals as young men of a likely-military

occupation. Further, many of those sacrificed were foreigners. This has led Cowgill (2015) to theorize that these men may have been the elite, foreign-born guard of a Teotihuacano ruler.

Cowgill also notes that after ca. 300 CE, the temple appears to have been desecrated and fallen into disuse. From this, he theorizes: Perhaps new institutions made rulers more accountable to elite councils. Conceivably, election from among eligible high elites by these councillors replaced inheritance of office” (2015).

Regardless of its source and the identity of those who wielded it, the authority of the state over its subjects appears to have been profound. Perhaps the strongest indicator of this is the organization of the city’s residents, who may have numbered over 100,000 during much of the state’s reign (Cowgill, 2015). Around 200 CE, the urban population appears to have been resettled in apartment complexes (Millon, 1981:210). Based on analyses of skeletons recovered from compound burials, these complexes appear to be organized through cognatic descent with women often leaving the compound to find a spouse. These apartments (Figure IX) appear to have contained spaces both for crafts production and residence (Sullivan, 2007). Further, groups of complexes seem to be organized into “barrios” that likely formed “corporate entities” with ​ ​ shared economic activities and religious rituals (Millon, 1981:210). The state’s ability to organize such a massive resettlement program and to convince or coerce its vast population to adhere to this scheme reflects a profound concentration of power.

Figure IX: Aerial view of the Atetelco apartment compound (University of California, San Diego)

The state’s power is also evidenced by the, potentially forced, relocation of the outlying rural population around 100 CE (Millon, 1981: 210). According to Sanders (1981:table 6.2), approximately 50,000 people came to the city at this time. As with the apartment program, this indicates that the state likely possessed an acute degree of power (Millon, 1981: 210). An alternate interpretation of this phenomenon is posited by Urunuela and Plunket (2007), who theorize that the cotemporal eruption of the Popocatepetl volcano forced the inhabitants of the southern and eastern Basin of Mexico to relocate to the city (38).

This massive influx of people and the subsequent implementation of the apartment system of organization have led scholars to identify the latter as a response to the former.

According to Millon (1981): “ The diverse populations had been urbanized and

‘Teotihuacanized.’ However much social units differed from each other originally, after so many generations of living in the city, a measure of social and cultural uniformity would have resulted.

The apartment compound as an architectural form would have been suited admirably to ensuring city-wide uniformity whole at the same time making possible the preservation of whatever particular customs and beliefs its occupants may have continued to maintain, for which there is

considerable evidence” (210). This assessment of a centralized state intent on homogenizing its population is echoed by Urunuela and Plunket (2007) in their analysis of the city’s monumental public architecture. They identify these structures as part of a state effort to symbolically enforce a “supra-kin” identity unifying the urban settlement (39).

The social structure over which the state presided is marked by clear stratification and hierarchies. This is indicated by marked disparities in the quality of burial goods with elite burials often containing an array of objects, often made from precious jade and obsidian material and requiring a large investment of time to construct (Manzanilla, 1996, Sugiyama and Lujan,

2007; 144; Millon; 1981, 214). “Commoner” burials, on the other hand, have a relative poverty of grave goods, with those present being simpler in make and crafted out of less valuable material (Manzanilla 2002: 49, 50). Further, these status disparities are present both inside and out of the apartment compounds. Differences in compound adornment indicate that the inhabitants of certain compounds enjoyed a higher status than those of others (Cowgill, 1992:

215; Millon; 1981, 214). Within the compounds, clear differences between the burials of individuals are a likely indicator of an internal hierarchy. Manzanilla (1996) writes the following of this phenomenon: “Burial practices may have been markers of social identity…

Funerary patterns reflected social status based on descent, gender, age and/or occupation, and appear to mirror the hierarchical organization inside each apartment compound.”

Another clear marker of these social distinctions is the “regalia” associated with specific individuals. These worn markers are frequently depicted in murals and are often associated with elite burials. For instance, one of the individuals found under the Temple of the Moon in aforementioned Burial 5 bore remnants of a headdress that Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan associate

with the regalia of a likely dignitary depicted in the Techinantitla mural (Figure X). The prestigious artifacts buried with the individual under the Temple of the Moon, such as shell disks and greenstone earspools (Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan, 2007) mark this as a position of conspicuous status.

Figure X: Likely dignitary depiction from the Techinantitla mural (Berrin 1988:17)

In marked contrast to the socioeconomic stratification evident in burials and apartment decorations, there is a striking degree of homogeneity between social classes in their mural depictions (Cowgill, 1992: 212; Cowgill, 2015; 208). As Cowgill (2015) theorizes, this may reflect the influences of a powerful state bent on “Teotihuacanizing” its population. Cowgill

(2015) writes: “A prominent feature of Teotihuacan imagery is multiplicity and replication. ​ ​ ​ ​ Frequently a number of humans or other beings are shown in a mural or stone relief, all with the same attire and all in the same pose, as alike as could be made with freehand techniques. This contrasts markedly with the Maya emphasis on variety and individuality… At Teotihuacan it

seems to be part of an ideology that represents specific social categories as very homogenous, whatever the actual variation among their members” (208).

The state at the helm of this structure likely collapsed around 650 CE (Cowgill, 2015).

The scant evidence that remains indicates that the main ritual centers of the city, such as the

Pyramid of the Sun, the Pyramid of the Moon, the main temple of the Puma Group, and many temples along the Avenue of the Dead, were intentionally burnt (Millon, 1981:236-7). Further, many ritual objects like Tlaloc vases, Huehueteotl burners, theater censers, candeleros, and sculptures appear to have been smashed or ritually “killed” (Manzanilla, 2000:50-1; Millon,

1981:237). Millon (1981) identifies these actions as part of the common Mesoamerican practice, likely established by the Olmec (ca. 1000 BCE), of ritually destroying conquered ritual centers.

Without clear glyphic or mural evidence, however, the cause of the polity’s sudden decline remains a subject of much debate. Prominent theories include an internal uprising of intermediate-level elites (Manzanilla, 2006) or a faction of “disaffected group” (Millon,

1981:238), erosion and soil degradation (Cooper and Sheets, 2012:xii-iii), the influx of

Nahuatl-speaking migrants, or external invasion (Cowgill, 2008: 972). After the polity’s fall, the city remained inhabited but was a political and economic shadow of its former self. Millon

(1981: 239) wittily remarks: “...the ‘Street of the Dead’ itself now lived up to its Aztec name…”

Religion:

As mentioned previously, the presence of standardized iconography and monumental ceremonial architecture such as the Pyramid of the Moon reflect the presence of a prominent

religious institution with ties to and possible control by the state (Millon, 1981; 230). This centralized control is further reflected by the near-ubiquitous presence of certain ritual items within the apartment complexes that disappear from the archaeological record after the state’s fall. Such items include Tlaloc pots, Huehueteotl braziers (Figure XI), theater censers, ​ ​ candeleros, and talud-tablero temple models (Cowgill, 1997). ​ ​ ​

Figure XI: Huehueteotl brazier (University of California, San Diego)

A cornerstone of this state religion appears to be the worship of a rain and storm god commonly referred to as Tlaloc (Pasztory, 1974). Though Tlaloc is the Nahua name for the

Aztec rain god and thus acts as both an anachronistic term and implies a false equation between the two deities (Pasztory, 1974 : 3), I will refer to the Teotihuacano god as “Tlaloc” for the remainder of this paper as most scholarly work on this deity uses this name. Tlaloc is often depicted as holding a lightning bolt and is identifiable by his “goggled” eyes and fanged mouth

(Figure XII). He bears associations with rain, storms, and agricultural fertility. Tlaloc’s

association with the state cult is attested to by the aforementioned Tlaloc pots and his frequent depictions in public mural works. The polity’s endorsement of this deity are so prominent that

Manzanilla (2002) refers to Tlaloc as the “state deity” of Teotihuacan.

Figure XII: “Lightning Tlaloc” from the Tepetitla murals (Sejourne 1966)

Despite the evident state influence, domestic rituals within the apartment compounds appear to have enjoyed a degree of separation from this control. Cowgill (2015 : 207-8) cites the difference in regalia on figures depicted in different compounds as possible evidence for rituals

“...whose right (and duty) to perform was ‘owned’ by occupants of the compound.”

A likely cornerstone of the apartment level rituals was ancestor worship (Manzanilla,

2002:49). The deceased bodies of higher-status individuals are often found buried beneath the pyramid-shaped talud-tablero central altars in each compound (Urunuela and Plunket, 2007: ​ ​ 36-40; Manzanilla, 2002 : 48). Many, lower-status burials are grouped in other sections of the compounds (Manzanilla, 2002 : 48-51). Urunuela and Plunket (2007) theorize that these

structures may have served as “an interface between the terrestrial surface and the underworld”

(38). This construction would allow the ancestors to be worshipped, suplicated, and be involved in domestic rituals, which were centered around these altars (Manzanilla, 2002:49). It also visually enforces the idea that the deceased remained an integral part of the spiritual community of the compound even after death. Further, many compounds show evidence “founder burials” that likely coincided with the construction of these complexes (Millon, 1981:209). These burials are associated with conspicuously “elite” goods relative to those of other individuals buried at the compound and may commemorate a revered ancestor to whom the residents could trace their lineage (Headrick, 2007:49-51).

Some compounds also contain burials of newborns and fetuses. Many, such as those found at the Tlajinga 33 site, were buried in ceramic jars below the central altars (White et. all

2004 :179). Further, Goldsmith (1996a, 2000 : 115-6) identifies the number of perinatal burials as too high to be accounted for by spontaneous abortions and instead attributes these burials to sacrificial, extractive abortions. To support this claim, she presents an explanation for a subcategory of clay figurines she calls “Extended Over ‘Table’ Females” (Figure XII) She describes these figurines as such: “The distended bellies of these female figurines clearly distinguish them as being pregnant. They are unclothed, and only the example from Front 3 wears a medallion. They lay face-up on an object, which, for lack of a better term, is "table-like".

This "table" actually consists of only two "legs"; one that extends forward out from under the figurine at the lower back, and one that extends in the opposite direction at the middle or upper back” (2000: 113). She cites the lack of support for the chest area and dangling arms to separate these figurines from the heart sacrifice that may have been practiced at Teotihuacan (Goldsmith,

2001 : 115). Since squatting was likely the childbirth position favored in Teotihuacan (Headrick,

2002 : 98), Goldsmith suggests that this position rules out childbirth. However, the extraction process suspected by Goldsmith will likely be impossible to more-definitively identify without mural or glyphic evidence as no bones protect the womb from such extractions. Thus, they would be extremely unlike to leave traces in the skeletal record. Confirming Goldsmith’s argument is further complicated by the fragmentary nature of the only example she cites in her examination; neither the arms nor head of the figurine are present. Further, it is a distinct possibility that this figurine could represent a particularly difficult birth during which the pregnant mother required some form of support.

Figure XII: Extended Over Table Pregnant Female Figurine, top and side views (Goldsmith, 2001) Further, a lack of clear mural and glyphic evidence makes it difficult to determine the reason why fetuses were selected for sacrifice and why babies were given such high status burials in general. These children are too young to have accrued any acclaim during their lives and thus could not be considered revered ancestors. A possible explanation can be found in the

beliefs relating to newborns in the Aztec tradition. At the time of the Spanish conquest, the

Aztec believed that the souls of children were especially favored by the Tlaloc gods and thus made major sacrifices of children on mountaintops to supplicate these deities for rain (Headrick,

2007:155; Sahagun 1950-82:II:1-2). Another conquest-era myth refers to a”west tree” split off from the “cosmic tree” by the goddess Ixnextli to which the souls of dead babies would go after death(hers (Read, 1986: 121-2). Their congregation at a tree, an object that literally extends from the underworld at its roots and up into the heavens with its branches, indicates that the souls of newborns to cross between the layers of the world. This also reflects a special status for their souls in the afterlife. Additionally, newborns and fetus spend either very little or no time on earth. This makes their souls temporally closer to the spiritual world from which their souls come and thus could give them a stronger connection to the supernatural. If Teotihuacan held similar beliefs, these infant and fetus burials could thus have the purpose of helping the residents of an apartment compound to communicate with the supernatural. Fetuses may have been seen as “ideal” for this purpose for the unique “purity” of their souls and their extreme closeness to the supernatural. The acute spiritual utility of fetuses could thus explain the fetus sacrifice

Goldsmith (2000) identifies.

The People:

The ethnic and linguistic identity of the people of Teotihuacan remains a mystery

(Cowgill, 2008: 971). The identification of these people is made extremely difficult due to the lack of clear glyphic and mural data that could indicate the language spoken at Teotihuacan or reveal the history of Teotihuacan’s settlement. In this search, myths regarding Teotihuacan’s settlement could be particularly telling as they are in the Aztec case. The Aztec myths, as

recorded in Crónica Mexicayotl, indicate that the founders of the Aztec state were Mexica ​ ​ migrants who came to Tenochtitlan after years of wandering from the North (Sullivan, 2016).

Dakin and Wichmann (2000) hypothesize that the inhabitants of Teotihuacan were

Nahuatl-speaking by identifying a Maya word for cacao in early glyphic inscriptions was adopted from Nahuatl. Nahuatl-speaking people were not thought to have had contact with the

Maya for many years after the “borrowing” of this word. Taken alongside the fact that the later inhabitants of the site in Aztec times spoke Nahuatl, this may indicate that Teotihuacanos spoke

Nahuatl. Kaufman and Justeson (2007), however, argue against this conclusion and instead suggest that the word came from the Mixe-Zoquean language family. They identify the adoption of other words from this language family during the time of Teotihuacan’s power. Based on these claims, they hypothesize that the Teotihuacano elite spoke a Mixe-Zoquean language

(Kaufman and Justeson, 2007; Cowgill, 2008: 981).

Teotihuacan Stone Mask (WCMA 1957.144):

Images:

Figure XIII: Teotihuacan Stone Mask, front view (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure XIV: Teotihuacan Stone Mask, (left) side view (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure XV: Teotihuacan Stone Mask, front view of left eye. Note the divots in the corners of the eye (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure XVI: Teotihuacan Stone Mask, close-view of mouth. Note the divots in the each of the mouth’s corners (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Description:

This Teotihuacan stone mask has a translucent, milk-white lustre that gives it a profound life-like quality. It is fashioned from onyx marble, also known as Mexican onyx. The carving process was likely carried out by a high-status individual in a lapidary workshop within one of the city’s apartment complexes (Clayton, 2011: 40). The specialist crafter (Clayton, 2011;

Manzanilla, 1996) first shaped the mask by abrading it with harder andesite and then polished it with chert powder. To give the mask its distinctive lustre, the crafter likely shined it with leather

(Tisoc and Ciriaco, 2014: 115). Distinct colored bands of varying width run down the mask in an approximately vertical pattern. The vertical nature of these layers is particularly defined on the mask’s left side but loses this characteristic just right of the nose. At this point, the bands start to form an ovular pattern centered close to the right corner of the mask’s right eye. The stone comprising this ovular pattern also displays the darkest hue of any area on the mask’s surface. On the other hand, the bands of lightest color are concentrated in the center of the mask and comprise the entirety of the nose. Both right and left of this approximate meridian, the mask assumes a darker shade. This shift in hue takes on a gradiated quality due to the tendency of each layer to maintain an internally consistent color throughout. Overall, the mask is slightly darker on the right than on the left.

This mask is also particularly striking for its attention to realism. As with a real face, the entire outwards-facing surface of the mask is remarkably smooth. Additionally, even the most minor features such as the crease where each nostril connects to the face and the groove between the nose and the upper lip (the philtrum) are captured with great precision. The nostrils themselves, represented by two smooth holes entering upwards about ⅓ inches into the nose, are

also very realistically depicted. However, it must be noted that the mask departs from its

7 3 realistic qualities in its size and proportions. The mask’s dimensions 4 /​ 16 x 4 /​ 16 x 2 ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ ​ inches—are remarkably small and “square” for a face. This gives the forehead a very broad quality and seems to indicate cranial deformation that would have been achieved on a live individual through the attachment of a “cradle device” to the head during infancy and childhood

(Yepez, 2001; Tiesler, 2012: 45). The mask’s creator also departs from a strict portrayal of the human form in their treatment of the ears. Though they are both of the proper height (along the mask’s vertical axis), they are unrealistically thin and rectangular. Also, the bottoms of both ears lack nobules (the lower-most part of the earlobe) and instead angle steeply into the face. At the point where the face and the ear meet, it is not readily apparent where one begins and the other ends. However, despite these deviations, the relative size and position of facial features retains a distinctively realistic quality.

A particularly notable feature of this piece is its almond-shaped eyes, which are roughly three-quarters open and bear traces of a a clay-like residue. In the corners of each eye are shallow divots. These were drilled through the rapid and continued spinning of a hollow reed, aided by the application of abrasive chert-powder to the site (Tisoc and Ciriaco, 2014; 111). The dual presence of these divots and the residue indicate that the eyes likely held inlays. Examples of similar masks (Figure XVII) indicate that these were likely made of pyrite (Headrick, 2007:

55). Since pyrite disks appear to have been polished to serve as mirrors at Teotihuacan (Taube,

1992), the pupils of these inserted eyes may have been highly reflective. This would confer on the mask a life-like animacy by giving its eyes the “shine” of a living being. Above the eyes are

thin eyebrows that are represented by shallow ridges above each eye. These follow the curvature of the eye and extend from the bridge of the nose to the further corner of the eye.

Figure XVII: Mask: Tlamimilopa-Metepec (200-750 CE), Teotihuacan (University of California, San Diego) The mouth, is slightly ajar. In describing Teotihuacan stone masks as a genre, Headrick

(2007: 55) writes: “They generally have parted lips that look as if the artist captured their image mid-speech…” The WCMA mask clearly follows this trend. The lips themselves are remarkably smooth and are neither particularly thick or thin. Divots, almost identical in size and shape to those in the eyes, rest in each corner of the mouth. These may have helped anchor shell teeth, as is seen in some rare examples (Figure XVIII) (Headrick, 2007: 55). This feature would have enhanced the mask’s life-like qualities.

Figure XVIII: Teotihuacan mask with shell mosaic, 250-600 CE (The Walters Art Museum)

The divots in the corners of both the eye sockets and mouth are approximately ⅓ inches in diameter and remarkably circular. Similarly round holes are also present in the lower portion of the figure’s ears and on the sides of the figure’s temples. These holes, unlike the divots in the eyes and mouth, pass fully through the stone. Those in the ears have cord looped through them.

This cord, however, was undoubtedly added at a later date as cord from ancient Teotihuacan would likely have wholly decayed by this point. The holes in the ear likely held earrings (for example, Figure XIX) (Headrick, 2007: 55) or another type of ear adornment such as earspools.

However, evidence of such ornamentation is not apparent on the WCMA mask.

Figure XIX: Teotihuacan stone, turquoise, and shell mask ca. 450 CE (Image and original data provided by SCALA, Florence/ART RESOURCE, N.Y.)

The divots and holes raise questions of authenticity. As they are not tapered in both directions, as is common in hand-drilled holes in stone artifacts and are, as Susan Bergh of the

Cleveland Museum of Art remarked “mechanical and blunt… also small,” they suggest that this mask might be a counterfeit created by a forger with access to relatively modern tools. Concerns regarding its authenticity are thus present throughout the museum files on this piece. However, the softness of the stone may have enabled the creation of such uniform, circular holes.

The mask dates from 100-650 CE. This range is so broad because a lack of archaeological context for the vast majority of masks prevents stylistic periods from being convincingly identified. Thus, the WCMA mask has been placed between the period of

Teotihuacan’s ascendency in the second century and its fall midway between the seventh and eighth centuries.

Identity: ​

The personage represented by this mask is likely an elite. This is evidenced, firstly, by the mask’s broad forehead, which appears to portray cranial deformation. This practice was exclusive to the elite of Teotihuacan, who likely had cradle-like devices attached to their skulls in childhood to attain this broadened shape (Yepez, 2001; Tiesler, 2012: 45). Further, the ear adornments this mask may once have held are indicative of elite status. The elevated standing of this figure is further attested to by the acute degree of detail of this mask and its semi-precious material of construction. Commissioning such a mask would require a significant material investment that was likely only possible for a member of the elite class.

The portrayed personage also is distinctly anthropomorphic and bears no animal characteristics. It also bears no features that identify it as a deity. Thus, it is likely this mask depicts an elite human.

Function:

The majority of such masks have been severed from their archaeological context by looting (Headrick, 1999; 74) conducted by both ancient Mesoamericans and modern pillagers.

Neither group left records attributing location or context to the masks they obtained. However, one of three archaeologically excavated examples was found in a palace corridor on the Street of the Dead noted for its high concentration of elite burials (Delgadillo, 1991). Considering this location data and that it lacks features associated with Teotihuacán animals and deities (Cowgill,

2015: 222-32), it is probable this mask represents a human ancestor. As such, its primary use likely involved the ritual veneration or supplication of this person’s spirit. However, the dearth of archaeological context for these masks makes it impossible to determine their exact function and associated rituals with certainty. That being said, analysing the physical traits of these

masks alongside scholarly knowledge of Teotihuacano ritual and mortuary practices and the traditions of other pre- and post-Hispanic Mesoamerican societies can provide useful insight in this inquiry and allow possible functions to be suggested with a degree of probability.

From such examinations, it appears likely that such masks originally adorned the mortuary bundles of the Teotihuacano elite. Perhaps the most direct evidence in support of this conclusion is that of a ceramic bust and corresponding, detachable clay mask (Figure XX) found in a ceramics workshop on the Avenue of the Dead (Headrick, 1999). The mask itself closely resembles the stone masks in its “square” shape, detailed facial features, and the presence of holes near its edges. The bust resembles a human’s upper torso and is roughly pyramidal in shape. Further, the center of its ventral side is pierced by a large, rectangular opening that extends into the interior of the bust without extending through its entirety. Carlos Munera

Bermudez (1991) hypothesizes that this bust-and-mask pair represent a ceramic version of a mortuary bundle and thereby indicate the presence of a corpse bundling practice at Teotihuacan.

Figure XX: Probable ceramic effigy bundle (drawing by L. F. Luin after Múnera Bermudez 1991:341)

If this were the case, the masking and bundling of the corpse of the deceased would likely be performed to provide a place for the deceased’s soul to return. Though a lack of written and direct ethnographic evidence prevents the presence of this belief from being explicitly confirmed at Teotihuacan, concepts of “embodiment” were almost-certainly present within their religious traditions. Firstly, this concept is almost-ubiquitous throughout Mesoamerica. In the pre-conquest Aztec, for example, ceremonies often featured deity impersonators, or teixiptlahuan, who would perform sacrifices, ritual dances, and donned costumes associated with ​ specific deities so that a portion of the deity’s soul could enter into their body. In the case of

Tlaloc teixiptlahuan, this regalia included a goggled mask, a flowered staff, and a headdress ​ ​ adorned with white heron feathers and spotted paper (Elliot, 1988: 12-17). A similar example of such embodiments can be seen in the the case of the ancient Zapotec effigy vessels (Figure XXI), which Sellen (2002) identifies as depicting priestly impersonators of deities. Further, similar beliefs are also evident in the contemporary Nahua. In his ethnographic work on the mid-1960s on the Nahua village of Jonotla, Gregory G. Reck writes: “The Nahua impersonate underworld spirits by painting their faces and bodies and wearing masks during the observances of

Nanucuatili (carnival).”

Figure XXI: Zapotec Cocijo funerary urn, ca. 200-1200 CE (American Museum of Natural History, New York, New York Donor: Saville, Marshall H., Prof.)

More direct evidence for this belief In Teotihuacan can be found in the civilization’s mural art. George Kubler (1967), for instance, identifies the “celebrants” depicted in a mural

(Figure XXII) from the Teopancaxco, Casa de los barrios as likely impersonators. According to

Kubler (1967), these figures appear to represent human priests wearing the bird-jaguar headdresses as part of an embodiment ritual.

Figure XXII: Teopancaxco, Casa de los barrios (Courtesy Instituto Nacional de Antropologta e Historia )

It is crucial to note that these impersonators were not viewed as mere humans pretending to be deities or revered ancestors. Rather, as Chase (1992: 104-5) elaborates: “...localized embodiments… facilitated intimacy between deities and their devotees at the level of sensory experience and served as a nexus points between levels of existence in the natural (material and physical) world and the metaphysical world… Devotees touched the teteo [(embodied deity)] ​ ​ who processed through Tenochtitlan, and they gave their gods flower… Prostrating themselves before other teteo, they ate dirt in an act of supplication, all because ‘he was mahuiztitiloya ​ ​ ​ (greatly esteemed)... he was a teixiptla…’” It is thus more accurate to conceive of these ​ ​ impersonators as becoming extensions of the spirits embodied within them.

Thus, the ancestor embodiment the mask likely facilitated would provide a channel for communication and interaction between the ancestor and their living descendants. This view is supported by pyrite eyes many of these masks were once adorned with (Headrick, 1999: 75).

The reflective eyes of these masks would have endowed them with life-like vitality by mimicking the animate shining of living eyes. As in Aztec belief, the mirrors may have acted as metaphors for the keen vision of nocturnal animals such as ocelots, implied a deeper knowledge beyond mortal sight, and were central to animating teixiptlahuan (“manufactured entities,” ​ ​ embodiments contained within a normally inanimate object) (Chase, 1992: 141).

Bermudez’s hypothesis that the clay effigy bust evidences a tradition of mortuary bundling at Teotihuacan is further supported by the widespread presence of mortuary bundles throughout both pre- and post-Hispanic Mesoamerica. Of particular interest is the Classic Maya

(300-900 CE) due to the apparent links between the elites of the Teotihuacan and those of the

Classic Maya states. In the latter, this practice is perhaps most clearly evidenced by the contents of the Rio Azul Tomb 19. This tomb, though looted in the recent past, appears to have been otherwise undisturbed between its likely closing between 450 and 500 CE. The occupant, an adult Maya male identified as an elite by his jade and obsidian burial goods, lies in an extended position with the remnants of a woven cotton textile lying about his skeleton (Figure XXIII)

(Adams, 1986). This provides rare and direct evidence of corpse wrapping in the Early Classic

Maya. Similarly direct examples, however, prove difficult to find due to the widespread destruction of burials by looters and the rapid degradation of organic wrapping material in the tropical climate of the Maya homeland in Guatemala (Reese-Taylor, Zender, Geller, 2006).

Figure XXIII: Burial at Rio de Azul (Adams 1986: FIG. 18)

Less direct yet nonetheless telling evidence can also be found in the skeletons themselves. The very act of bundling leaves the skeleton in a tightly flexed, fetal-like position and often causes the bones to become disarticulated. These relatively permanent markers allow for a reasonably strong identification of bundling even when no wrappings remain (Robin and

Hammond, 1991: 352-363). For instance, Reese-Taylor, Zender, and Geller (2006) use the disarticulation of twenty-four skeletons uncovered in the Middle Preclassic mass burial at Cuello to evidence the presence of mortuary bundling. Though this disarticulation in a mass burial context could instead suggest a violent death rather than mortuary bundling, considered alongside the more direct evidence provided by the Rio Azul 19 burial, it is clear that mortuary bundling was practiced by the Classic Maya (2006). Evidence provided by the accounts left by the Spanish in the years following the conquests supplement this conclusion. The Relación de ​

las cosas de Yucatán of the Spanish bishop Diego de Landa records the following about Maya ​ mortuary practices: “...once dead, they put them in a shroud, filling their mouths with ground maize...” wrote Landa (Tozzer 1941:130).

Further, the presence of masks in Classic Maya bundling is supported by an array of glyphic and archaeological evidence. F. Kent Reilly III (2006) presents a comparison of two

Middle Formative art works to identify the presence of a “ritual mask” in a Classic Maya depiction of a sacred bundle. The first work Reilly III analyzes is an Olmec vase found in

Chalcatzingo (Figures XXIV). The second is a rock carving that he identifies as the deity Xoc due to its belted loincloth, avian mask, “balloon-shaped” headdress, and possible pouch bearing an “E” motif (Figure XXV). By identifying the “tall tablet-like object” carried by Xoc as a ritual bundle and relating it to the image on the Chalcatzingo vase, Reilly III marks the latter as an opened sacred bundle. This associates the object within the opened bundle, identified by Reilly

III as a buccal mask, with Maya ritual bundling (2006).

Figure XXIV: Open bundle (Drawing by Reilly III, 2006)

Figure XXV: Xoc bearing a sacred bundle (Drawing by Reilly III, 2006)

In an explicitly mortuary context, evidence for the use of masked wrappings (though not necessarily bundles due to the extended position of the bodies) is presented by the Protoclassic

(100-250 CE) Tikal Burial 85. This burial was conducted slightly before the Classic period but, due to its proximity in time and conspicuous importance, evidences the presence of this practice in the Classic Maya. This burial probably contains, alongside a secondary, likely sacrificial individual, the dynasty founder Yax Ehb’ Xook (Reilly III, 2006). F. Reilly III uses the latter ​ ​ skeleton’s extended position and crossed forearms (Figure XXVI) to identify likely mortuary wrapping. Located in the tomb, close to the primary individual’s head, is a jadeite maskette depicting the headdress of a jester god. Using this information, comparisons with similar examples, and the presence of holes on the mask’s edges, he concludes that this mask was likely sewn onto a mortuary shroud (Reilly III, 2006).

Figure XXVI: Tikal Burial 85 (drawing by Kathryn Reese-Taylor)

Similar practices of masked bundles being used in a mortuary context are evident in the

Aztec. For instance, Headrick (1999: 70-72), based on the accounts of the Spanish codexes, identifies Huitzilopochtli as a bundled ancestor carried in a basket by the Aztec during their ​ ​ migration. Further, he uses an image of Huitzilopochtli in the Codex Boturini (Figure XXVII) to ​ ​ associate the bundle with the god’s characteristic hummingbird mask (Headrick, 1999, 71).

Figure XXVII: Huitzilopochtli bundle being carried(drawing by L. F. Luin after Heyden ​ ​ 1989:108)

Another particularly detailed depiction of Mesoamerican masked mortuary bundles occurs in the Relación de Michoacan, which describes the cremation of a Tarascan king and the ​ ​ subsequent wrapping of his ashes and precious ornaments into a cloth bundle that was adorned with a turquoise mask (Headrick, 1999, 2007).

Considering the near-universal practice of mortuary bundling across Mesoamerica and in traditions, such as that of the Classic Maya, with which the Teotihuacan elite would have had direct contact , it is probable that Teotihuacanos also practiced mortuary bundling. This view is further corroborated by Munera Bermudez’s (1991) interpretation of the Temple of Agriculture mural (Figure XXVIII). Munera Bermudez’s analysis asserts that this scene depicts the ritual worship and burning of mortuary bundles (Headrick, 1999: 76-77, 2007).

Figure XXVIII: Temple of Agriculture mural with the right-hand bundle shown in isolation (drawing by L.F. Luin after Miller 1973:63) This analysis is supported by the earlier Tarascan example in which the body of the king was burned on a pyre atop a pyramid (Headrick, 1999, 2007). In a similar manner to what

Bermudez argues is depicted in the Temple of Agriculture mural, two mortuary bundles are burned on top of a temple in a setting that is both public and ritually significant.

Headrick (1999, 2007) also presents as evidence a graffiti glyph from a Metepec

(550-650 CE) bowl from the Teotihuacan influenced site of Pueblo Perdido (Figure XXIX).

After establishing the conical form as common in the artistic depiction of mortuary bundles,

Headrick identifies the “conical form” as a “bundled body surmounted by a round head” sitting atop a temple (Headrick, 1999, 2007).

Figure XXIX: Pueblo Perdido mortuary bundle graffiti (drawing by Jenni Bongard after Rattray 1992:26)

Another source of potential evidence for Teotihuacan’s bundling culture is that of the so-called “enthroned figurines” (Figure XXX). These figurines have a similar conical shape to other Mesoamerican depictions of mortuary bundles (see Figure XXXI for a Maya example) and, like their counterparts, show no sign of legs or body. The absence of lower limbs is a recurring motif in Mesoamerican mortuary bundle depictions (Headrick, 1999, 2007; Guernsey, Reilly III,

2006). This absence is particularly visible in the Mixtec bundle of 9 Wind as depicted by the

Codex Zouche-Nuttall (Figure XXXII) (Pohl, 1994). Further, these figurines are characterized ​

by their presence atop a chair or “throne” (Goldsmith, 2001; 108-9). This feature is near-ubiquitous in Mesoamerican depictions of mortuary bundles and thus further relates these figurines to the mortuary bundles and evidences the presence of mortuary bundling in

Teotihuacan. Many of these figurines are also depicted as wearing masks (Figure XXIX).

Figure XXIX: Metepec Enthroned Figurine ( University of California, San Diego)

Figure XXX: Terminal Classic Maya mural of a mortuary bundle, Las Higueras (drawing by L.F. Luin after Sanchez Bonilla, 1993:134)

Figure XXXI: Bundle of Mixtec “culture hero,” 9 Wind (drawing and analysis from Pohl, 1994; drawing based on Zouche-Nuttall 15)

Figure XXXII: Xolalpan (400-650 CE) theater censer (Manzanilla, Carreon, 1991)

The “enthroned figurines” also evidence the use of masks to adorn Teotihuacano mortuary bundles. This position is further substantiated by the aforementioned widespread use of masks to adorn mortuary bundles throughout Mesoamerica. Moreover, the physical properties of the Teotihuacan stone masks speak to this conclusion. These masks all possess small holes on their edges (as in Figure XXXIII) that, as Reilly III theorizes in the case of the jadeite mask from the Tikal Burial 85 of Yax Ehb’ Xook, would have allowed these masks to be sewn onto a cloth ​ ​ wrapping (Reilly III, 2006).

Figure XXXIII: Teotihuacan black limestone mask from Santiago Ahuizotla, Mexico State, Mexico (Image and original data provided by Erich Lessing Culture and Fine Arts Archives/ART RESOURCE, N.Y.)

Further, as can be seen in the WCMA mask, the Teotihuacan stone masks are characterized by the ubiquitous presence of holes on the lower ear lobes. Though often attributed to holding earrings (Headrick, 1999) (Figure XXXIII for example), it appears likely that some masks were instead adorned with earspools. Earspools are a near-ubiquitous sign of elite status throughout Mesoamerica and, as previously established, these masks are probable representations of elite ancestors. Further, earspools, often crafted of jade or other greenstones, are a near-ubiquitous feature in high status burials (Castro, 1993; Sugiyama and Lujan, 2007) and mural depictions of the elite. (for example, Figure XXVIII). Further, ceramic masks that bear a strong similarity to their stone counterparts often depict these ornaments (Figure XXXIV).

Such earspools associate these masks with the funerary context firstly because of the aforementioned commonality of earspools in elite burials. Though these spools were,

undoubtedly, used to project elite status during the wearer’s lifetime, their widespread presence in upper class burials suggests that they had a concurrent funerary association. This is corroborated by the Classic Maya conception of jade earspools as portals through which the breath spirit (ik’), often portrayed as a serpent, could pass (Taube, 2005). Such can be seen in a ​ ​ variety of pictorial representation like a carving from Dos Pilas Stela 8 (Figure XXXV). Taube

(2005) further identifies the Classic Maya expression for death och b’ih (literally translating to ​ ​ “enters the road”) as being glyphically represented by a serpent passing through an earspool

(Figure XXXVI). Considering the centrality of earspools to Maya funerary practice, the finding of Maya jadeite earspools under the Moon Pyramid (Castro and Sugiyama, 2007), and widespread presence of similar earspools in Teotihuacan burials, it is probable these ornaments held similar importance in the funerary customs of Teotihuacan. As such, the association of the stone masks with these items further connects these masks to the funerary context and thereby supports the conclusion that they adorned mortuary bundles.

Figure XXXIV: Teotihuacan Ceramic Mask (The Cleveland Museum of Art Collection Formerly in The AMICO Library)

Figure XXXV: Breath serpent emerging from earspool (Taube, 2005), Dos Pilas Stela 8 (after Mathews 2001:Figure 40.2)

Figure XXXVI: Och b’ih glyph from an early Classic death vase (Taube, 2005; after Kerr ​ ​ 2000:972)

The bundling process itself would likely have begun with the defleshing of the deceased through partial or complete burning (James, 1928). This would be a necessity for deceased’s body to escape decomposition. This practice is common throughout Mesoamerican bundling traditions and was also prevalent across much of the pre-Columbian North America (ibid). A particularly lucid example of this is the aforementioned ceremony recorded in the Relación de ​ Michoacan, in which a Tarascan king, still wearing his royal regalia, is cremated. His ashes and ​ the remnants of his costume are then wrapped in a cloth bundle that is later adorned with a turquoise mask and other ornaments (Headrick, 1999: 74, 2007).

The possibility of cremation is further supported by the prevalence of cremation at

Teotihuacan. This is evidenced by various finds of charred bones in Teotihuacan burials.

Among many examples, there is that of Burial 1 at TIamimilolpa in which Linne (1942:126-32) identifies, alongside an array of “killed” ritual objects, the bones of a cremated individual.

Once cremated, the body would then be wrapped. It is likely this was a ritual of particular significance as wrapping and circular motions are closely linked to time and the cycle of life, death, and rebirth throughout Mesoamerican tradition. An iconic example of this can be found in the Aztec calendar stones (Figure XXXVII) which visually depict the passage of time as a cyclic process. These associations are further evidenced through the Classic and conquest-era

Aztec New Fire Ceremony. According to Elson and Smith (2001: 157-8), “The Aztec calendar consisted of a 365-day secular calendar and a 260-day ritual calendar. The two calendars combined every 52 years to form a cycle similar to our century, which the Aztecs called a

“bundle” of 52 years. The Aztecs believed that the world had been created and destroyed four times, and that the current age (the “fifth sun”) would come to a violent end at the termination of

a 52-year calendrical cycle (Taube 1993). It was not known which cycle would mark this destruction, and the purpose of the New Fire Ceremony was to celebrate the start of another

52-year cycle and the renewal of the world.”

Figure XXXVII: Aztec calendar stone (Yale University: Peabody Museum of Natural History)

Similar beliefs were likely present in Teotihuacan. Firstly, the alignment of the Pyramid of the Sun with the position of the sunset on the horizon indicates that Teotihuacanos likely utilized a ritual calendar that, as in the Aztec case, stretched 260 days (Headrick, 1999, 2007).

Thus, the circular motion of wrapping the remains of the cremated ancestor would be a ritual of tremendous significance that would emphasize the deceased ancestor’s place in cyclic process of life, death, and rebirth. The wrapping was thus likely seen as a process which animated the bundle with the soul of the deceased ancestor.

After the completion of the bundling process, it is likely that the mortuary bundle served a ritual purpose. Headrick (1999) suggests that bundles may have functioned as oracles in addition to serving as idols for ancestor worship. She supports this claim by presenting examples of oracular bundles in both the Mixtec and Aztec traditions and citing the physical attributes of the Teotihuacan masks. From the Mixtec tradition, Headrick identifies a Codex Nuttall ​ illustration as depicting Lord 8 Deer and Lady 6 Monkey consulting Lady 9 Grass and the mortuary bundle of Lord 3 Lizard (Figure XXXVIII). In the Aztec tradition, Headrick again cites the previously discussed case of Huitzilopochtli. Physically, the masks possess open ​ ​ mouths suggestive of oracular speech, inlaid eyes, and earring-adorned earlobes that are overwhelmingly associated with animacy throughout Mesoamerican spiritual tradition

(Headrick, 1999).

Figure XXXVIII: The mortuary bundle of Lord 3 Lizard at Chalcatongo (drawing by Jenni Bongard; after Nuttall 1975:44)

The act of drilling the indents necessary for the placement of the eye and mouth inlays relied on the use of abrasive chert-stone powder and the spinning of reeds would have generated heat (Tisoc and Ciriaco, 2014; 111). As Aztec religion and modern Nahua beliefs tie sight, speech, heat and light with animacy (Basset, 2015; Furst 1997), it is likely these features were animating qualities that would allow for the masked figure to act as a localized embodiment.

They also provide possible foci for animating rituals. For instance, the insertion of the eye and/or mouth inlays could have marked the moment the embodiment became animated and thus would have been performed with particular ceremonial emphasis that might have involved prayer or sacrifice (Bassett, 2015). It is also quite possible that, in resemblance to the Mexica belief that the old deities drilled into infants and breathed tonalli into them before birth (Furst, 1997: ​ ​ 63-70), the drilling of the inlay-holes was followed by a ritual breathing on the mask that imbued the inanimate stone with tonalli and thereby animated it. ​ ​ Headrick (2007) expands his argument for the oracular function of these masked bundles by identifying the cave under the Sun Pyramid as a potential site for their storage and ritual use.

The pyramid itself (Figure XXXIX) is the dominant structure of Teotihuacan’s urban landscape.

It was likely constructed in the Tzacualli period, between 0 and 150 CE (Heyden, 1975).

Further, the pyramid stands upon a system of quarried tunnels that lead to a cruciform-shaped set of chambers in the center of the pyramid (Figure XL). Though various scholars have identified the tunnels as originating from the presence of lava tubes in the formation of the volcanic rock upon which the pyramid is built (Heyden, 1975; Millon, 1973), Manzanilla, Lopez, and Freter

(1996) note these tunnels as being too long for natural formation through such a process.

Instead, they posit the more-probable theory that these tunnels were quarried by hand

(Manzanilla, Lopez, and Freter, 1996). The cruciform cave system at the end of this tunnel clearly resembles the axis mundi. This cross, its four arms splaying in the cardinal directions and ​ ​ with a central axis connecting both the heavens and the underworld, is a symbol shared among all Mesoamerican societies and depictions of this symbol appear in Teotihuacan (Figures XLI,

XLII). The axis, frequently represented as a four-petaled flower, is the spiritual center of all the universe’s animating forces. As such, this cave system is imbued with the symbolic significance as a location possessing immense spiritual power and connecting all animating forces in every plane of existence.

Figure XXXIX: Pyramid of the Sun with likely locations of child sacrifice marked (Heyden, 1975; drawing from Leopoldo Batres)

Figure XL: Depiction of the tunnel system under the Pyramid of the Sun from the Insituto de ​ Antropologia e Historia

Figure XLI: Teotihuacan cross petroglyph (Aveni, Hartung, and Buckingham, 1978)

Figure XLII: Ceramic incensario (150–650 CE) with quatrefoil flower motif (Museum of Fine Arts, Houston)

The intense associations of this cave with life and animation are further enhanced by the presence of water within the cave. As indicated by the presence of stone drainage pipes, the cave either possessed a spring at one time or was supplied with an artificial flow of water. This further associates the cave with life and ideas of fertility (Heyden, 1975). Moreover, the imagery of water flowing out of a cave located either under or within a mountain is a ubiquitous symbol of life and fertility in Mesoamerican spirituality. In Teotihuacan in particular, this idea is represented quite clearly in the Tepantitla patio mural (Figure XLIII), which depicts either a sacred, personified mountain, the so-called “Great Goddess,” or another deity (Mandell, 2015).

The identification of this deity as the “Great Goddess,” however is a matter heavily debated by scholars of Teotihuacan. Some (Pasztory, 1993; Berlo, 1992; Millon, 1992) identify this goddess as the most important deity within Teotihuacan religion. Others (Mandell, 2015: 29-49;

Paulinyi, 2006) instead prefer to identify this goddess character as a collection of deities bearing

similar characteristics of fertility and water. In spite of their disagreement over this figure’s identity, both sides of this argument associate this deity with the ideas of life and fertility.

Figure XLIII: Tepantitla patio mural (drawing by Jenni Bogard)

The Pyramid of the Sun is further established as a place of creation by the Aztec beliefs surrounding the city. According to the Florentine Codex, a conquest-era ethnographic record of the Nahua created by the Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún, Teotihuacan was the place at which both the sun and the moon were created (Headrick, 1999, 2007). Though it is unknown whether Teotihuacanos shared this belief, Headrick argues that they likely did (2007). She defends this position by citing the astrological significance of the pyramid’s entrance or “mouth” which, during the Tzacualli period when the pyramid was constructed, was oriented to view the setting sun on both April 29 and August 12. On both these days, the sunset occurred in the same spot on the horizon. Headrick identifies this as significant because the longer period between these dates measures 260 days—a timespan significant throughout Mesoamerican spirituality as the length of a single cycle of the ritual calendar. Furthermore, August 12, the first day in the

260 day period between August 12 and April 29, falls only one day short of the Maya day of creation. Thus, Headrick argues, the Pyramid of the Sun was likely believed to be the place of solar creation (1999, 2007).

The intense concentration of spiritual energy in the caves under this pyramid would thus likely be believed to contribute to the animacy of these bundles and thus allow them to act as oracles. Headrick further supports this assessment by citing the Mixtec tradition of keeping oracular bundles in caves (Headrick 1999, 2007; Byland and Pohl, 1994: 201).

Headrick’s argument is further substantiated by the floral associations of the pyramid’s cruciform cave. In the Teotihuacan tradition, the axis mundi is closely associated with the ​ ​ four-petaled flower. In Mesoamerican tradition, such flowers are closely associated with life and the soul. For the Classic Maya, these flowers likely held the same associations as earspools in the funerary context. Stuart (1992) even argues that these spools were themselves symbols of flowers (Taube, 2005). This view is substantiated by the glyphic depictions of serpents passing through these flowers much as they are represented as passing through earspools and the frequent floral elements of these earspools (Taube, 2005). Further, Taube (2005) notes a Classic Maya expression for death in which the breath soul is referred to as “white flower wind.” Similar associations are also evident at Teotihuacan. This is exhibited by the theater censer (Figure

XXXII) unearthed by Linda Manzanilla in a residential burial. This object bears distinct quatrefoil floral elements and was likely associated with the dual concepts of life and animacy

(Manzanilla and Carreon, 1991).

Figure XLIV: Four ik’ sign earspools within floral motif, detail of Late Classic vessel, Museo ​ ​ Popol Vuh (after photograph courtesy of Zachary Hruby). (description from Taube, 2005)

Moreover, as noted previously, there was a source of running water inside these caves

(Heyden, 1975). Water is closely linked to life throughout Mesoamerican spirituality.

Teotihuacan is no exception (Mandell, 2015). This is clearly evidenced by the prominent role of water in the aforementioned Tepantitla patio mural (Figure XXVI) where water is depicted as gushing from the “Great Goddess” figure and at the center of a scene of verdant life.

Four-petaled flowers are depicted as springing from the branches of the tree, which Mandell identifies as a symbolic representation of the axis mundi (2015), emerging from the “Goddess” ​ ​ (Figure XLV). Thus, the presence of running water within and the cruciform structure of the cave under the Pyramid of the Sun speak in favor of Headrick’s argument (Headrick, 1999,

2007).

Figure XLV: Tepantitla patio mural (drawing by Jenni Bongard)

Further, the Maya Popul Vuh provides a direct link between the Sun, creation, and ​ ​ mortuary bundles. According to the Quiché creation story, the first men become mummies and are wrapped in bundles referred to as “majesty enveloped” and sing a song to greet the Sun at its first rising (James, 1928: 218). Though direct evidence for such beliefs has not been found at

Teotihuacan, considering the connection between the Maya and Teotihuacano elite and their apparent similarities in using the sun to mark the day of creation, it is quite possible bundles were similarly linked to both creation and the sun in Teotihuacan spirituality. This association would make the Pyramid of the Sun, with its solar and creative symbolism, a likely location for these bundles.

Headrick further supports her theory with an argument from Doris Heyden (1975 : 142) in which she claims that a map of Teotihuacan from the 1580 Relacion geografica (Figure ​ ​ XLVI) depicting the word “Oraclo de Montecuma” (oracle of Montecuma) beneath what appears ​ ​

to be a drawing of the Pyramid of the Sun acknowledges the performance of oracular rituals in the caves below the pyramid (Headrick, 1999, 2007). It is possible, however, that these ceremonies only developed during the later occupation of Teotihuacan by the Aztec. Headrick also proffers another interpretation of this map. She argues that the text places the rituals along the Avenue of the Dead. This would allow the bundles to be enthroned atop temples, as is common throughout Mesoamerican tradition and is possibly depicted in the aforementioned

Pueblo Perdido graffiti (Figure XXIX). Further, she cites an argument from Esther Pasztory

(1992a), which explains the remarkably thorough work of looters in finding these masks by attributing their location to the highly-visible temples along the Avenue of the Dead (Headrick,

1999, 2007).

Figure XLV: Map of Teotihuacan from Relacion geografica (drawing by L.F. Luin after Heyden ​ ​ 1975:142)

Though Headrick presents cogent and well-argued evidence in support of both these locations of use, the placement of these bundles atop temples along the Avenue of the Dead appears more probable.

In addition to the evidence provided by Headrick, the apartment mortuary practices at

Teotihuacan support this view. Within these complexes, there is a pronounced tendency for burials to occur underneath the central talud-tablero shaped altar (Figure XLVI) (Urunuela and ​ ​ Plunket, 2007). Urunuela and Plunket (2007) among others hypothesize that these burials were performed to reinforce the likely patrilineal familial line of descent. Urunuela and Plunket

(2007) also connect the apparent burial of lines of family heads under these structures in the

Late/Terminal Formative Puebla village of Tetimpa, whose inhabitants likely migrated to

Teotihuacan after a volcanic eruption in the first century CE, to argue for a similar practice of using burials to trace descent at Teotihuacan. Considering the similar talud-tablero construction of household altars and the temples lining the Avenue of the Dead (for the latter, see Figure

XLVIII, it is possible that masked mortuary bundles were enthroned on these pyramids as a publicized version of the typical household funerary rituals (Headrick, 1999, 2007). Further, these apartment mortuary practices reflect a focus by each family on their own, lineage specific ancestors. In this context, the placement of the bundles on individual pyramids is more probable as it reflects a greater focus on each family’s connection to a specific ancestor by physically and visually separating these bundles.

Figure XLVI: Ciudadela: diagram of inner core of central platform showing talud-tablero construction (University of California, San Diego)

Once “enthroned” atop these pyramids, however, the non durable nature of these bundles make their long-term preservation almost impossible. Thus, it is likely that these bundle were often replaced with those of other individuals. Headrick (1999, 2007) uses the Mixtec example presented by Pohl (1994) to argue that each lineage head was bundled after death and old bundles were burned after an heir’s succession to his ancestral position. This would leave only the remains of the most-recently departed lineage head enthroned on the temple.

Figure XLVIII: Avenue of the Dead, Teotihuacan (Photographer: William Kessler, Data from: University of Michigan Library)

Though Headrick (1999, 2007) does not elaborate on this point, if these bundles were cremated, the masks would have to undergo a process of “ritual killing” before the burning of the bundle. This would probably have been necessary, as the mask allowed the spirit of the deceased to be embodied in the bundle. As suggested by the various depictions of these bundles communicating with the living and the careful detail given to crafting the masks so that the embodied ancestor would possess a full range of senses, the embodied ancestor would likely have been seen as very much “alive.” Cremating the bundle before “ritually killing” it would thus effectively entail burning a revered, powerful ancestor. In addition to being a patent act of cruelty and disrespect, this could easily have been believed to bring about supernatural retribution, as the idea of malicious spirits, or “bad winds, “ who can damage one’s soul or cause illness, figures prominently in contemporary Mesoamerican spirituality (Bassett, 2015, Reck,

1986). Such beliefs are reflected quite clearly in the contemporary Nahua healing ritual in which a ritual bundle is rubbed against the “patient” to capture and contain the harmful spirit afflicting them with illness (Reck, 1986 : 101-5). In this ritual of killing, the mask was thus likely first removed before the bundle’s burning. This conclusion is supported the apparent lack of fire damage on the known examples of these masks and in literature regarding these artifacts.

Further, the objects Bermudez identifies as burning mortuary bundles in the Temple of

Agriculture mural (Figure XXVIII) exhibit a distinct absence of masks. If Bermudez’s interpretation is accepted, this provides direct evidence for the removal of the masks before the process of burning.

Since the senses are vital contributors to animacy (Headrick, 1999, 2007), it is probable that the removal of the earrings, earspools, eye fillings, and mouth fillings would bring about the termination of animacy. Evidence for this ritual can be found in the distinct absence of these features in many existing examples of these masks (for example, Figure XLIX). These inlays and adornments were typically made of durable materials such as pyrite, shell, and obsidian (for an example with pyrite eye inlays Figure XVII) (Headrick, 1999, 2007). Thus, their absence likely reflects an intentional removal of these sensory features. Since this dearth is quite pronounced, it is probable that the masks were detached before burning and that the removal of these inlays and adornments was a necessary part of this process. Further, detachment of the mask (which may have occurred before or after the removal of the aforementioned features) was probably a central facet of the “ritual killing” as heads and faces are strongly associated with animacy within Mesoamerican tradition. Take, for example the ancient Nahua belief that tonalli, ​ ​ the “heat soul,” was concentrated in an individual’s head (Lopez Austin, 1988: 221). Thus, the removal of the mask may have marked the moment when animacy was completely removed from the bundle.

Figure XLIX: Teotihuacan onyx marble mask, 3rd-7th c. CE (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Once the mask was detached from the bundle and “ritually killed,” the bundle could then be burnt. Based on the Temple of Agriculture Mural (Figure XXVIII), this act was likely an extremely important ceremonial act that involved some form of speech and sacrifice. Firstly, the individuals facing the burning bundles have what appear to be speech scrolls emanating from their mouths (for a comparison between those in the Temple of Agriculture Mural and examples identified by Colas, 2011, see Figures L, LI) (Colas, 2011). Since these scrolls are pointed towards what Bermudez (1991:339) identifies as burning bundles, it is likely that the figures are addressing some form of speech to these objects. This speech could be either verbal prayer or singing, though the apparent lack of musical instruments suggests the former. However, the latter cannot be ruled out as singing and music were crucial parts of many ancient and

contemporary Mesoamerican ceremonies (for example: Stevenson, 1968: 69; Provost, 1980:

80-86).

Figure L: Speech scrolls from Temple of Agriculture Mural (drawing by L.F. Luin after Miller

1973:63)

Figure LI Simple scroll (Zacuala, Portico 1; Lombardo de Ruiz 1996:Figure 29; Colas, 2011).

Secondly, the mural appears to depict the ritual sacrifice of maize tamales to the burning bundles. Many of the individuals facing and/or addressing the bundles with speech scrolls hold circular objects identified by von Winning (1987: 46) as tamales. One particular seated figure appears to be holding a plate heaped with this food (Figure LII). Zoltán Paulinyi (2013) interprets the figures as sacrificing or “feeding” these tamales to the ancestors embodied in the bundles on either side of the mural. This analysis is likely valid as the sacrifice of foods is a salient feature of Mesoamerican ritual practice. For instance, Sahagún records in his Florentine ​ Codex the Aztec practice of offering tamales to “images” of mountains during the XVI Atemoztli ​

feast (Dehouve, 2016: 516). It thus probable that these offerings are being made to the burning bundle to nourish its spirit in the underworld. This conclusion is supported by the presence of tamale imagery within Teotihuacan burials. For instance, Manzanilla and Carreon (1991) identify the circular objects on the headdress of the aforementioned theater censer (Figure

XXXII) as likely depictions of tamales. Considering that tamales and other maize-based foods were ritually burnt in similar censers by the pre-Hispanic Zapotec (Sellen, 2002), it is quite possible such sacrifices were also performed using the censers of Teotihuacan. This suggests that tamale burning may have been part of the cremation ceremonies for Teotihuacan mortuary bundles.

Figure LII: Seated figure bearing a plate-full of tamales, Temple of Agriculture Mural (drawing by L.F. Luin after Miller 1973:63)

This mural could also provide hints to the rituals surrounding the consultation of the bundle in its function as an oracle. Across pre- and post-Hispanic Mesoamerica, there is a strong

belief that the spirits of the deceased need nourishment in the underworld or afterlife. This is exemplified by the Late Formative (300 BCE - 200 CE) West Mexican house models (Figure

LIII) which frequently depict deceased individuals feasting in shaft tombs below living compounds (Butterwick, 1998). In Teotihuacan, the presence of similar beliefs is evidenced by the aforementioned theater censers. These censers, which were used for the ritual burning of substances during burials often depict food items such as tamales. This is clearly evidenced by the aforementioned censer (Figure XXXII) uncovered by Linda Manzanilla (Manzanilla,

Carreon, 1991). Considering the Zapotec practice of burning tamales and other food items in these censers, it is a distinct possibility that the Teotihuacan censers were also used to burn food during funeral rituals. This indicates that Teotihuacanos likely sacrificed food to their ancestors for the purpose of nourishing them in the afterlife. As such, sacrifices of tamales and other edibles likely were a central element in the rituals surrounding the consultation of these oracle bundles.

Figure LIII: Late Formative Nayarit ceramic house model (Saint Louis Art Museum)

It is also quite possible that the rituals surrounding these masked bundles involved supplicating ancestors to act as intermediaries between humans and the gods (not necessarily in exclusion to the oracular uses of the bundles). Such beliefs are common throughout

Mesoamerica and are exemplified by the traditions of the Zapotec. The ca. 1570 Relacion de ​ Ocelotepeque, records an episode occurring in the years immediately following the Spanish ​ conquests, which Lind (2015: 30) relates as such: “Following Petela’s death, the Zapotec town nobles treated him as if he were a god and made sacrifices to him at his burial site. Around AD

1577, the local priest [a Spanish missionary] discovered this, sought out Petela’s grave, and burned his bones in public. Six months later, an epidemic hit the town and around 1,200 people died. The nobles then made sacrifices to the ashes of Petela’s bones so that he would intercede with Bezelao (Pita Pezeekai [god of the underworld]) to stop the epidemic.” If the Teotihuacan bundles were used in a similar manner, they, like the bundle of Petela, would likely be the subject of sacrifice. As argued previously, this sacrifice would likely include the offering of tamales or another food items. These sacrifices may also have included blood as blood is a ubiquitous symbol of life in both pre- and post-Hispanic Mesoamerica and figures prominently in many sacrificial rituals of supplication. Take for instance the contemporary Nahua practice of offering the blood of turkeys to the embodiment of Chicomexochitl (7 Flower) during ceremonies invoking the deity to bring rain (Bassett, 2015: 14-21).

After their detachment from their respective mortuary bundles and “ritual killing,” the stone masks would have to be ritually discarded, buried, or stored after the destruction of their respective bundles. The family of the deceased may have accomplished the first of these by laying the mask in the courtyard of or floor within their apartment complex. This mirrors the

treatment of Huehueteotl sculptures that appear to have been ritually put out of use (Manzanilla,

1998a). They may also have been deposited within a trash heap alongside other objects whose ritual significance had expired. Both these scenarios appear unlikely, however, since they would be expected to produce a greater quantity of archaeological finds of these masks than what has actually been found. Many unlooted trash heaps have been discovered (for example; Manzanilla,

2002; 46) and the dispersion of masks across apartment complexes would have protected these masks from pillage.

It is also possible that these masks were buried with the ashes of the deceased individual whose bundle they once adorned. This, however, seems unlikely as Teotihuacano burials appear to represent a focus on providing spaces for the deceased’s spirit, or soul, to return. Take for instance the greenstone figurine (Figure LIV) found in the Group II burial under the Moon

Pyramid. This figurine was found standing upon a pyrite mirror (Sugiyama, Lopez Lujan, 2007).

Firstly, greenstone is associated closely with life across Mesoamerica (Tibón 1983:147, Taube,

2005). Thus, it was likely believed in Teotihuacan to be a substance particularly conducive to generating ritual animacy. This is reflected by the large quantity of jade and greenstone artifacts uncovered in Teotihuacan burials (Sugiyama, Lopez Lujan, 2007; Manzanilla, Lopez, Freter,

1996). Furthermore, pyrite disks were often polished to function as mirrors (Taube, 1992).

According to Taube (1992), mirrors were represented in Teotihuacan and other Mesoamerican societies, including the Classic Maya (Figure LV), as “passages” between different layers of the universe through which serpents could pass (for an example from Teotihuacan, Figure LVI).

Considering the aforementioned association of serpents with the breath spirit (ik’) among the ​ ​ Classic Maya and Taube’s analysis that these mirrors acted as places of “emergence” in the

Teotihuacan tradition, it is likely that these pyrite disks were seen as places through which the soul of the deceased could pass as to become embodied within the figurine. This conclusion is further supported by Jill Furst’s (1995: 94-5) ethnographic work on the contemporary Mexica in which she identifies mirrors as a potent tool for enhancing one’s tonalli, or heat soul. This gives mirrors particularly strong animating qualities. Given this focus on facilitating embodiments in

Teotihuacano burials, it is therefore unlikely that the stone masks would be buried after their inlays and ear adornments were removed. It would be distinctly counter to the norms of the mortuary traditions to remove animacy from an object before burying it alongside a deceased individual. Thus, it is unlikely that the majority of these masks, which are bereft of their original inlays and ornaments, were buried with the individuals whose bundles they adorned.

Figure LIV: Greenstone figurine found in Group II burial (Sugiyama, Lopez Lujan, 2007; image created by Accord Corporation, Japan)

Figure LV: Maya serpent emerging from mirror, from Mound 1, Santa Rita, Belize (after Gann, 1900; Taube, 1992)

Figure LVI:Teotihuacan plumed serpent passes through feathered mirror rim, detail of Las Colinas Bowl (from Taube, 1986)

Instead, it is more probable that these objects were ritually de-animated and placed in storage. This is evidenced by a variety of findings of inert ritual objects in apparent storage contexts. Take for instance Linne’s 1942 discovery of caches of dismantled theater censers

within the Tlamimilolpa compound (Manzanilla, 2002: 46). It is also quite possible that the mask may have been stored within a sacred bundle (much in the way represented in Figure II).

Though there is a lack of direct evidence for this practice at Teotihuacan, bundles were commonly used throughout Mesoamerica for the storage of sacred objects. For example, consider the aforementioned case of the bundle depicted on the Chalcatzingo vase.

Though these masks may have been stored indefinitely, it is possible that they were reused and adorned the mortuary bundles of successive family heads. My reasoning stems largely from the physical properties of the masks themselves. As a group, the masks show a remarkable degree of similarity and exhibit a clear lack of distinguishing, “personal” features

(for instance, compare Figure LVII, LVIII, and LIX). They all appear to represent a generalized form of an elite’s broadened head. Not even gender is clearly distinguishable from these depictions. This indicates that the masks may have been reused between generations; being adorned with personalized eye and mouth inlays and mosaic designs at every “reincarnation.” If this were the case, it would aid in the function of these bundles, as proposed by Headrick (1999,

2007), in facilitating primogeniture succession by emphasizing continuity between each successive lineage head and thereby reinforcing the ascending heir’s legitimacy.

Figure LVII: Teotihuacan calcite mask, 200-500 CE (Yale University Art Gallery)

Figure LVIII: Teotihuacan stone mask, 4th-8th c. CE (The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Figure LIX: Teotihuacan serpentine mask, 200-750 CE (University of California, San Diego)

This conclusion is further evidenced by the focus on homogenization on depiction of figures within Teotihuacano art (Cowgill, 2015: 206). As previously mentioned, according to

Cowgill (2015): “A prominent feature of Teotihuacan imagery is multiplicity and replication. ” ​ ​ ​ ​ Cowgill further notes that figures are often only distinguishable from one another through the regalia they wear (Figure LX) These masks could thus represent a manifestation of this general pattern wherein the homogeneity between figures is emphasized and differences between specific individuals are only made apparent by adornments.

Cowgill (2015: 207-208) also notes that this regalia was often specific to individual compounds. Since these compounds were likely organized based on familial relationship, these works visually represent a collective conception of family wherein the differences between individuals are minimized and their common identity is reinforced. Thus the continuous reused

of these masks may have been part of a manifestation of a tradition that emphasized an individual’s place within a collective family over their personal attributes.

This may also indicate a belief in an “inheritable soul” such as that evidenced by the naming practices and beliefs of Nahua and Uto-Aztecan belief that “fortunes” (a concept strongly linked with the idea of tonalli) could be transmitted through generations and between individuals by the sharing of a name (Furst, 1997: 84). In the Uto-Aztecan tradition, these souls were typically “inherited” by a child with the same name as their same-sexed grandparent (Furst,

1997: 85). Thus, by transferring the mask through the generations, this bundling practice may have ritualy represented each lineage head as possessing the passed-down soul of the revered lineage-founder the mask was originally crafted for.

Figure LX: Scene depicted on a Teotihuacan clay bowl found by Linne in a grave at the Las Colinas site (Millon, 1973)

In Teotihuacan, the presence of such beliefs, however, are not confirmed. Further, within

Mesoamerican religiosity, there is a distinct lack of “reanimating ceremonies” through which ritually killed objects are restored to life. This makes the familial use of these masks, though still possible, unlikely.

Another potential explanation for the absence of adornment in most examples of these masks is the apparent ritual destruction of the city in around 650 CE. Like the various other ritual objects destroyed in this “ravaging of the city,” such as Tlaloc vases, greenstone sculptures, candeleros, and Huehueteotl burners, these masks may very well have been targeted for ritual destruction (Manzanilla, 2002; 51-2). This is particularly likely given that the distribution of fire evidence indicates the specific targeting of the Avenue of the Dead (Millon,

1981: 236). Thus, it is quite likely that these masks, if enthroned upon the temples lining the

Avenue of the Dead as evidence suggests, would have been ritually put to death. Since the inlays and adornments probably brought animacy to these bundles, these features were likely removed from the masks and potentially destroyed. This possibility is further suggested by the potential political motive behind the destruction (Millon, 1981: 237-8). As the elites held significant political power within the city and the ritual killing of their sacred ancestors would have symbolically obliterated the position of the elite, such de-animation would be a likely action of the “ravagers.” This also parallels the Mixtec treatment of their conquered foes

(Byland and Pohl 1994: 219). They would burn the mortuary bundles of their defeated enemies and thereby “erased the ancestral legitimacy of their rivals by destroying the physical evidence in the form of ancestral bones” (Headrick, 1999, 2007). To obliterate the power of the dominant

elite class, the burners of Teotihuacan may have similarly “erased the ancestral legitimacy of their rivals” by bringing ritual death to the masked bundles.

Figurine Heads:

Images:

Teotihuacán Head (WCMA Accession No. 50.10.A):

Figure LXI: Front of Head A (Williams College Museum of Art)

Figure LXII: Back of Head A (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure LXIII: (Left) Side view of Head A (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Teotihuacán Head (WCMA Accession No. 50.10.B)

Figure LXIV: Front view of Head B (Williams College Museum of Art)

Figure LXV: Back of Head B (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure LXVI: Side of Head B (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Figure LXVII: Comparison view of Head A and Head B (Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by author)

Descriptions:

Teotihuacán Head (WCMA Accession No. 50.10.A):

7 One of the most striking attributes of this rather small head, measuring 1 ⅜ x 1 /​ ​ ​8 inches, is its material of composition—ceramic. This gives the head a distinct reddish-brown

color and, on the nose and lower left cheek where the object has been chipped, a lighter beige tone. The presence of a rust-red residue concentrated on the face’s right side and in the creases most protected from wear (such as between the neck and the chin and between the layers of the figure’s necklace), indicate that this object was painted red at some point. This pigment was likely derived from iron oxides as such pigments were commonly used in Teotihuacan figurine art (Goldsmith, 2001: 46) and have a similar rust-red color. Though no other pigment residue has been identified, it is possible that there were other hues used but the traces of these were obscured by wear or the modern washing of this artifact (Goldsmith, 2001: 33).

The person portrayed by Head A has an extremely broad forehead, which is more than twice as wide as the nose is long. The head’s crown also is parted slightly in its center. The figure’s eyes are depicted as tight slits that distinctly lack any portrayal of pupils. Relative to other facial features, these eyes are disproportionately long. They are each slightly longer than the mouth. The eyes are placed in the center of shallow, ovular depressions that resemble orbita.

Head A also appears to have eyebrows, depicted as a pair of shallow ridges each extending over one of the orbita. However, wear makes this feature difficult to identify. The nose of the figurine is relatively flat and has two nostrils. These are represented by slight indents into the clay.

Traces of the head’s original iron oxide pigment are held in these divots.

The figure wears prominents earspools that are extremely large relative to the face. Each is approximately a third of the size of the rest of the face. These earspools are depicted as large circles with a small, ovular indent in their approximate centers. These divots on the right side is slightly below center while that on the left is more-centrally positioned. Both hold significant

traces of the aforementioned iron oxide pigment. The upper-left side of the left earspool is broken off with a rough, jagged fracture.

Immediately under the chin and descending to what is presumably the base of the neck is another example of adornment—a three-tiered necklace. Relative to the scarcity of detail across the figure, the head’s creator refines the necklace to a disproportionate degree. The lines that mark the necklace’s layers are, though slightly crooked, the straightest lines present throughout the piece. Furthermore, there are two vertical lines on the necklace that reflect an effort to create a design or pattern on the necklace.

Head A appears to be moldmade as a comparison of its front and back indicate that it was likely produced using the one-part molds popular at Teotihuacan (Goldsmith, 2001). This is evidenced by the relative smoothness of the front and the uneven, “bumpy” characteristics of the back. Such attributes indicate that the clay used to make Head A was pushed into a one-part mold that provided the head a smooth face without altering its back. If moldmade, this would date Head A to what Goldsmith (2000: 10) the "Teotihuacan Mold Made” phase (350-750 CE).

A more precise date cannot be reached without an instrument-aided analysis since, as Goldsmith

(2000: 10) remarks: “Once the personage was introduced in mold made form, there was apparently no ideological reason to stylistically change it; hence the same molds and figures continued to be produced until the fall of the city.” If moldmade, Head A was likely made by a part-time or specialized individual working within a low-middle class apartment compound or specialized workshop (Sullivan, 2007: 55-6). Many of these compounds, such as the C23 compound examined by Sullivan (2007) favored in ceramic production and focused their economic activities on the production of figurines and adornos (204). Some workshops, such as

that attached to the Ciaudela on the Avenue of the Dead, appear to have been under close state supervision (Sullivan, 2007: 26-9). The state may have exerted control over the style and characteristics of the figurines produced in the latter variety of production facility. State influence was likely felt by apartment-compound artisans as well since the workshops under its direct control may have produced the molds used by these craftspeople. This conclusion is supported by the apparent state influence over the distribution system of these figurines

(Sullivan, 2007: 26-9). This would allow the state to distribute molds to artisans under less-direct central supervision so that their creations would align with the state’s “approved” style.

It appears that the ears were made of separate pieces of clay. These may have been inserted into the mold after the piece of clay forming the main portion of the head and neck were inserted. Goldsmith (2000: 63), however, writes that these earspools were likely added on after the initial firing of the a head without earspool. This is supported by the uneven positioning of the central elements of the earspools. This asymmetry contrasts distinctly with the uniform symmetry of the face’s mold-made features and thus suggests that these ear ornaments may have been crafted by hand and applied to the already-fired head. Without access to Head A’s original mold, however, neither possibility can be definitively confirmed.

Head A was likely originally attached to a separately-produced clay body that may have been either moldmade or handmade (Goldsmith, 2001). This is evidenced by the vast corpus of similar heads with existing bodies (Figure LXVIII, Figure LXIX).

Figure LXVIII: Teotihuacan figurine with partially-intact body (University of California, San Diego)

Figure LXIX: Teotihuacan seated figurine, ca. 300 CE (Worcester Art Museum)

Identity:

The individual represented by this figurine is likely an elite of some kind. This assessment is based largely on the figurine’s prominent earspool and broadened forehead. As

mentioned previously, these are both clear signs of elite status. Further, this figurine bears a three-tiered necklace similar to those depicted on figurines whose other features denote elite status (Figure LXX).

Figure LXX: Throne figurine wearing War Serpent headdress; note the figurine’s three-tiered necklace (from Seller 1902-1923 V:457; Taube, 1992: 66)

An exact identification of the portrayed figure is, however, not possible without knowledge of the headdress that once likely adorned it (Goldsmith, 2001: 62). According to

Goldsmith (2000: 62), a similar example (Figure LXXI) appears to have once born such adornment which would have “...changed the personage represented.”

Figure LXXI:Triangular with Earspools, TMM phase, 350-750 CE (Goldsmith, 2001: Illustration 25)

Teotihuacán Head (WCMA Accession No. 50.10.B):

Head 50.10.B (henceforth, “Head B”) measures 1 9/16 x 1 ⅛ x 13/16 inches, and possesses remarkably narrow eyes that are completely lacking pupils and are of a greatly exaggerated length relative to other facial features. This extreme length is particularly evident in the left eye, which is noticeably longer than the figure’s mouth. This mouth is also slightly ajar and very narrow in relation to other facial features. The lips are barely discernible. The chin and bottom-half of the face are rounded in shape. The nose has been broken off, but appears to have been realistically proportioned. As with Head A, Head B appears to possess an unnaturally broad forehead. However, Head B’s headdress covers the top part of its forehead and thus makes the extent of its exaggeration difficult to gauge. Given the head’s width in the region immediately below the headdress and the fact that it has not begun to taper inwards at this point, it is evident that the forehead’s breadth is beyond natural proportions.

Head B also possesses a massive headdress. So prominent is this feature that, from the point where it connects to the forehead to the center of its peak, it is taller than the remainder of the head. The headdress itself takes on a roughly triangular shape that forms a relatively flat surface at its top. This “summit,” is however slightly higher on the left than the right. A narrow, roughly horizontal band of ceramic follows the curve of the forehead and distinguishes the headdress from this feature. Immediately above this is another narrow band that is partially covered at three approximately equidistant points by circular elements. These circular features take the form of a bumpy outer-ring that, though currently obscured by wear, may originally have been ridged, and an inner circular indentation. On the headdress, there are a total of four such elements with three being located in a roughly linear fashion partially overlapping this

second band and the fourth resting in the approximate center of the “peak.” There is a pair of parallel lines that connect the upper circle with the lower middle one.

Unlike Head A, Head B is likely handmade rather than moldmade. The unevenness of the eyes classes them as “gash” eyes. Goldsmith (2000: 40) describes this eye class as follows:

“These eyes are produced by making a large gash for each eye with a fingernail or other object.

The eyes are usually not even with one another, and tend to each be made at a slant in the same direction.” According to Goldsmith, this style is associated with the Tezoyuca (200 BCE - 0) and Patlachique periods (150 BCE - 0) of Teotihuacan during which figurines were handmade

(Goldsmith, 2001: Table 1). Further, Head B has a highly-polished front with a reddish tint distinct from its pale beige back. When viewed from the side, there is a stark transition in color almost completely lacking in gradient. This indicates that the front was painted with a red pigment. When considered alongside Goldsmith’s criteria (2000: 47), this further associates the head with the Patlachique phase (150 BCE - 0). This classification is, however, far-from definitive. Firstly, there is a significant degree of chronological overlap between the periods

Goldsmith identifies. This reflects a lack of clear distinguishing factors that identify samples as belonging to specific periods of figurine manufacture. Goldsmith’s classification system also relies on a judgement of the clay grain (2000: 46-7). Without an instrument-aided investigation, this information cannot be readily determined for Head B. Further, the only photographic example Goldsmith presents of the “gash” eyed figurines (Figure LXXII) is of a very low quality

(a likely result of poor photocopying during or before the digitization of the only copy of her dissertation I was able to obtain). This makes it impossible to compare Head B with this “gash” eyed figurine head. Further, the eyes on Head B, disregarding their unevenness, resemble the

“slit” style eyes that Goldsmith associates with the Miccaotli phase (150-200 CE) but remarks:

“the "slit-eye"may span several periods, leaving room for a wide margin of phasing error” (2000:

39). Goldsmith (2000: 39) also recognizes the possibility that handmade figurines may have remained in small-scale production after the popularization of the mold-made styles (350-750

CE). Her analyses of the clay slip, pigmentation, and glaze are also made without instrumentation (Goldsmith, 2001: 46). She recognizes that this vein of analysis: “[is] in no way intended to substitute a microscopic study in those cases where one is warranted” (Goldsmith,

2001: 46). These significant sources of uncertainty make a precise dating of Head B impossible.

However, her identification of this figurine as handmade is also supported by the uneven nature of the crest of the figurine’s headdress, which is slightly higher on the left than the right. This indicates that the figurine was not produced in a standardized mold and was thus likely handmade. As handmade figurines became scarce after the use of molds in figurine head production (ca. 350 CE) became widespread (Goldsmith, 2001: 46), this indicates that Head B was produced between the onset of figurine head production (ca. 200 BCE) and 350 CE

(Goldsmith, 2001: Table 1).

Figure LXXII: Tezoyuca phase head with "gash" style eyes (Goldsmith, 2001: Illustration 1)

Figure LXXIII: Miccaotli phase head with "slit" style eyes (Goldsmith, 2001: Illustration 7)

A large ceramic projection at the lower back of the head indicates that the head was part of a larger figurine but was later broken off. This is further suggested by the smooth, cylindrical characteristics of the non-broken areas of the projection which suggest that this “knob” may have originally been crafted to act as a neck. Further, many examples of full-bodied figurines with similar heads exist (for example, LXXIV)

Figure LXXIV: Standing portrait figurine, 400-650 CE (Standing Portrait Figurine: Xolalpan)

Another point where these figures show a marked departure is in their depictions of the ears. Judging from the left ear, as the majority of the right ear appears to have been broken off, the ears on Head B are markedly narrower than those on Head A. The left ear also shows no sign of adornment and is remarkably long—it extends over the band of the headdress almost to the jawline. Considering its length and that many headdresses extend along the side of the face in Teotihuacano mural and figurine art (for a figurine example, see Figure LXXV; for a mural example, see Figure LXXVI), this feature may actually be part of the figurine’s headdress.

Figure LXXV: Figurine head with headdress extending down the side of the face (Nuttall, 1886)

Figure LXXVI: Priest from Tepantitla Palace mural (University of California, San Diego)

It is also worth noting that the gender of the individual portrayed by this head cannot be readily determined as the head lacks distinguishing sexual characteristics and the headdress has yet to be clearly associated with any particular gender. Other features of this object that should be noted are the damage to the nose and the smooth nature of its back (sans the damaged projection). The back is also marked with thin green numbers corresponding to its collection number, 50.10.

Identity:

The identity of the individual (or stereotyped occupational/class group) portrayed by this figurine head cannot be determined definitively without more direct glyphic or mural evidence.

However, the object’s distinct headdress provides clues to the figurine’s identity.

One possibility suggested by Zelia Nuttall (1886: 157-178) in an analysis of a similar figurine head (Figure LXXVII) that resembles Head B in its conical headdress and the presence of circular elements on this headdress.. In her analysis of this head, she draws on Duran’s chronicles and recounts the following passage about priests selected to perform human sacrifices to “the Sun”: “...[they] wore their hair much adorned and twisted, with strips of leather encircling ​ ​ the head. On their foreheads they wore tiny targets (or shields) of paper painted of various colors” (Duran, vol. II, pg. 348; Nuttall, 1886: 169). She also cites a corresponding passage from

Acosta’s chronicles: “The other five had their hair much curled and tied up with laces of leather bound about the middest of the head; upon their foreheads they carried small roundelets of paper painted with diverse colours” (Acosta, vol. II, pg. 348; Nuttall, 1886: 169-70). Based on the

records of these conquest-era Aztec ceremonies, Nuttall claims that this figurine may represent a priest who sacrificed hearts to the Sun and that the conical feature I identify as a headdress ​ ​ actually represents hair twisted into a conical shape by strips of leather.

Figure LXXVII: Figurine head identified by Nuttall as resembling Aztec “Sun Priests” (Nuttall, 1886).

Nuttall’s analysis of these heads, though rooted in the false presumption of exact ritual continuity between the Aztec and Teotihuacan, reveals potentially-valuable insights about the identity of Head B. Firstly, Nuttall’s identification indicates that the circular objects on the headdress of Head B may represent paper disks. Though the ritual use of such objects has not been confirmed at Teotihuacan, the Aztec use of these elements and the Aztec tendency to adopt aspects of Teotihuacan religion, such as the production of stone masks strongly resembling those represented by the WCMA mask (Figure LXXIV), suggest that the elements on Head B may represent paper disks. Further, her association of the depicted individual with ceremonies of the sun is also worth considering worth. The aforementioned paper disks may very well have been painted to represent a sun. Even if these disks are not pieces of painted paper, they may

represent suns. This idea is given a degree of credence by the apparent importance of the sun in the Teotihuacan state religion. Further, Nuttall’s identification of the figurine as a representation of a priest is worth considering as many figures identified as priests in mural depictions wear distinctive headdresses adorned with round, mirror-like elements (for example,

Figure LXXV).

Figure LXXIV: Mural fragment depicting a priest of Tlaloc (University of California, San

Diego)

Figure LXXV: Aztec Teotihuacan-style masks and figurine ritually offered at the Great Temple of Tenochtitlan between 1440 and 1481 CE (Tisoc and Ciriaco, 2014) However, Nuttall’s identification seems unlikely for Head B. Firstly, though both bear similar circular elements, the headdresses of each figurine bear clear distinguishing features. The headdress on Nuttall’s head only has two circular elements and does not extend over the ears as that of Head B appears to. Further the circular elements on Nuttall’s head have projecting, half-spherical elements in their centers and smooth “rims” whereas those on Head B have a depression in their centers and bumpy “rims.” Moreover, no glyphic evidence clearly associates the particular headdress worn by the figure depicted by Head B with the priestly class. Further, the circular elements on the headdress more closely resemble glyphic elements Taube (1992) identifies as rimmed mirrors (Figure LXXVI).

Figure LXXVI: Figurine fragments bearing rimmed mirrors (from von Winning 1947)

The presence of these mirror-like elements suggests that this figurine may actually depict a warrior. This assessment is furthered by the characteristics of a figurine (Figure LXXVII)

Taube (1992: 58) identifies as portraying a warrior bearing shields representing the “House of

Mirrors concept. Though the mirror elements on this figurine are attached to its shields and midsection, its headdress otherwise bears remarkable similarity to that worn by Head B. Both have the same conical shape with a flattened peak, and both have a ridge running down their centers. Further, like the headdress of Head B, the headdress in Taube’s figurine appears to partly cover the side of the face. The identification of Head B as a warrior is also supported by another facet of Taube’s argument (1992). He identifies an association of both the “cult of sacred war” and mirrors with the concept of creation. The roughly cruciform arrangement of the apparent mirror elements on the Headdress of Head B causes them to resemble the axis mundi. ​ ​ As previously discussed, throughout Mesoamerica, this symbol is commonly associated with creation (Headrick, 2007: 146-64). Thus, this arrangement gives the headdress of Head B symbolism of creation that, alongside its apparent rimmed-mirror elements and the shape of its

headdress, associate the figure depicted by this head with the warrior class. This would further classify the figure as male as the Teotihuacan warrior status was dominated by men (Headrick,

2003: 164).

Figure LXXVII: Figurine in war dress holding two shields with mirror and roof elements in center (after Soustelle 1967: pi. 47; description and identification from Taube, 1992: 58)

This claim, however, must be made with caution as neither glyphic nor mural depictions clearly show the unique arrangement of mirror elements seen on the headdress Head B. Further, most warriors depicted in Teotihuacan artwork have clearly identifiable earspools (for examples,

Figure LXXIX and Figure LXXX). Head B lacks these. Also, Head B is heavily worn and thus the identification of its circular elements as rimmed mirrors cannot be certain. It is possible that they were originally smooth-rimmed and thus unassociated with rimmed mirrors. Lastly, without complete figurines (bearing bodies and decorative elements such as clothing and paint), the exact identity of the portrayed individual or occupational class cannot be determined with certainty.

Figure LXXIX: Throne figurine with War Serpent headdress (after von Winning, 1987; Taube, 1992: 66)

Figure LXXX: Teotihuacan warrior wearing the War Serpent headdress(after Sojourne 1964: fig. 8; Taube, 1992: 66)

An alternate interpretation of this headdress identifies this figure as being associated with fertility rather than warfare. The circular elements may, instead of representing rimmed mirrors, depict flowers. The elements on Head B’s headdress, like those in Teotihuacan mural art (for example, Figure LXXXI), take the form of concentric rings. Though Head B’s circular elements

lack markers of petals common in Teotihuacan depictions of flowers, these may have originally been present but were later lost to wear. Further, the central element that was previously identified as a ridge may instead represent a maize stalk (Figure LXXXII). This plant was likely central to the Teotihuacano diet (Millon, 1981: 218) and was strongly associated with fertility.

Further, the distinctive flattened-conical shape of the headdress on Head B closely resembles the shape of a mountain. It bears a particular resemblance to the “mountain of plenty” portrayed in the Tepantitla patio mural (Figure XXXIV). This symbol bore strong associations with fertility

(Mandell, 2015). Moreover, this headdress strongly resembles those seen in Aztec depictions of fertility goddesses. This is particularly evident in the “Aztec Fertility Goddess” analysed by

Katelyn Long (Figure LVI). Both depict a line of flowers running along the band of the headdress. However, this statue is distinguished from Head B in the respective orientations of the floral elements on the headdresses of each piece. On the Aztec Goddess’ headdress, the floral elements are arranged in a horizontal line while those of Head B are oriented in a roughly-cruciform pattern.

Figure LXXXI: Flower from Tepantitla Mural (University of California, San Diego)

Figure LXXXII: Maize stalk (photograph by Barnes, R. H. (Robert Harrison), 1944-Barnes, Ruth, 1947-)

Figure LXXXIII: Lower portion of Tepantitla patio mural (Middle American Research Institute, Tulane University)

Figure LXXXIV: Aztec Fertility Goddess ((Williams College Museum of Art, photograph by Katelyn Long)

Function:

Due to their manifold similarities, both Head A and Head B will be discussed in this section.

Though such figurine heads " constitute the single most numerous artifact category depicting the human form" (Scott, 1994: 10) and millions of these artifacts were found at

Teotihuacan (Goldsmith, 2001: ix), there is no clear consensus on their use. The prominent arguments addressing their function can be divided into two main categories: ritual and non-ritual. The former will be addressed first.

If produced for ritual functions, these figurines were likely intended for use in family domestic rituals. This is evidenced by the likely domestic religious functions of similar ceramic figurines in both the Maya and Aztec traditions. In the Late Classic Maya site at Aguateca,

Guatemala (Triadan, 2007) similar figurines (Figure LXXXV, Figure LXXXVI) are found in a

domestic ritual context. This site shows signs of rapid abandonment, and elite residences were left in a highly-preserved state (Triadan, 2007: 269). In examining this site, Daniela Triadan

(2007) notes the presence of these figurines in domestic and storage contexts. She also notes that figurines were found in rooms of apparent ritual purpose (283) and the majority of figurine fragments were uncovered in refuse layers of burned ceramics that indicate the process of “ritual termination” (283). This practice, also seen at Teotihuacan, was performed at the conclusion of an object’s “life” of ritual use (Manzanilla, 2002: 43). Elizabeth Brumfiel (1996: 148) cites similar domestic ritual uses for Aztec ceramic figurines (Figure LXXXVII).

Figure LXXXV: Seated female figurine with elaborate attire (Triadan, 2007: Figure 10a)

Figure LXXXVI: Figurines from Aguateca Structure M8-8 (Triadan, 2007: Figure 14; from Aguateca Archaeological Project)

Figure LXXXVII: Aztec ceramic figurine head (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology)

Figure LXXXVIII: Aztec terra cotta figurine (Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology)

In Teotihuacan, the possibility of this domestic ritual use is supported by the finding of figurines in domestic ritual courtyards. An example of this is the n. 25 ritual courtyard in the

Oztoyahualco compound of the city where three ceramic portrait figurines and two ceramic puppet figurines (for an example, Figure LXXXIX) were uncovered alongside other ritual objects (Manzanilla, 1993b: 140-53; Manzanilla, 2002, 46). Further, in rare cases, figurine heads have been found in burial contexts (Manzanilla, 2002: 50). Despite their prominence in the archaeological record, examples where the primary context of the heads can be determined are very uncommon. The vast majority of figurine heads and figurine fragments are found in secondary “trash” contexts such as architectural fill or were disturbed by later occupation

(Sullivan, 2007: 79; Goldsmith, 2000: 7). Sullivan’s analysis of the location of these secondary deposits, however, indicates that these figurines were likely present in the households of both elites and commoners (Sullivan, 2007: 196).

Figure LXXXIX: Disassembled Puppet Figurine, 400-650 CE (University of California, San Diego) If used in a domestic ritual context, it is likely that these figurines were intended to serve as receptacle for the embodiment of an ancestor. This assessment is based on the aforementioned strength of the ancestor cult at Teotihuacan and the use of similar figurines in rituals of ancestor worship in other Mesoamerican spiritual traditions such as the Formative

Oaxaca (Marcus, 1998: 25) and Aztec (Smith, 2002: 102). Further, in her analysis of the distribution of ceramic figurines in Teotihuacan, Sullivan (2007) concludes that the demand for specific types of figurines appears to vary across households. She writes: “Differences in the relative proportion of different figurine types in residences of different socioeconomic status, different districts, or in distinct contexts may reflect differential usage of different figurine types”

(Sullivan, 2007: 196). He cites the example of portrait figurines, which likely represent warriors and appear to have been favored by upper-class residences (Sullivan, 2007: 196). This pattern is consonant with ancestor worship as it could reflect an intentional selection of figurine type by each household to align with the status or occupation of a revered ancestor.

The rituals surrounding these figurines would likely have centered around the central talud-tablero altars of each compound or smaller household altars within individual residences as ​

these sites were central to domestic ritual (Manzanilla, 2002: 43-52). A central facet of this ceremony was likely the dressing and painting of the figurine. Visually, this would cause the generalized form of the figurine to take on the attributes of the ancestor targeted by the ceremony. Also, as regalia depicted in murals appears to be exclusive to individual (Cowgill,

2015: 207), this dressing would be crucial to marking the portrayed ancestor as a part of the family. Ritually, many contemporary Mesoamerican ceremonies place particular importance on the process of dressing the figurines. For instance, in the aforementioned Nahua Chicomexochitl

(7 Flower) ritual witnessed by Bassett (2015: 14-17), the dressing of the paper Chicomexochitl figurines takes place after days of ritual preparation and occurs concurrently with ritual dancing.

Though explicit records of such practices in Teotihuacan do not exist, their existence is alluded to by the physical attributes of many artifacts. This is exemplified by the greenstone figures, such as that analysed by Kendall (Figure XC), that are often found in elite burials of high importance (Manzanilla. Lopez, and Freter, 1996; Sugiyama and Lopez Lujan, 2007). Though many of them bear carved depictions of clothing, like the loincloth on the figure examined by

Kendall, they also apparently were dressed with perishable clothing items. In Kendall’s figure, this is evident from the unpolished forehead, which indicates the adornment of this figure with a headdress. This indicates a conscious choice on the part of the object’s commissioner to have the figure carved without its full regalia. Since this figure displays a high level of craftsmanship and resource limitations were likely not a concern for an elite who could afford such a precisely-crafted semi precious object, this absence is almost certainly not due to financial concerns or technical limitations. Instead, it probably indicates that the process of dressing the

figure was a ritually important act that was valued enough for it to dictate the construction patterns of these objects.

Figure XC: Teotihuacan greenstone standing figure (1942.41; WCMA TL.2017.2.5)

This may reflect that Teotihuacanos believed in a concept similar to the Aztec tonalli that ​ ​ would have associated a person’s dress with their individual fate, or “heat soul.” It is thus possible that, like in the aforementioned example of the Aztec teixiptlahuan of Tlaloc, this ​ ​ individualistic costume would have been seen as critical to the process of embodiment at

Teotihuacan.

Further, it is likely that these ceremonies were intimate household affairs that would be performed, in part, to bring the inhabitants of an individual residence or of a larger apartment compound together through their connection to a common ancestor. These rituals thus may have focused on interests and experiences shared between family members. For instance, an apartment compound that primarily housed farmers of squash may have included squash flowers in their ceremonies and have focused their interactions with the embodied ancestor towards

supplication for agricultural fertility. Though compounds typically specialized in one form of economic production, they frequently housed individuals of various unrelated occupations

(Clayton, 2011: 40, Manzanilla, 1996). This amalgamation of interests probably led to a degree of “individuality” for each family’s ritual. As Cowgill (2015: 207) remarks, murals reflect that compounds likely “owned” specific rituals.

Regardless of their specific character, the rituals surrounding these figurines likely contained some similar elements. The frequent depictions of processions in Teotihuacan mural art indicates that this was likely a central facet of the ritual. Further, the lack of pupils in the eyes of these figurines and the previously discussed centrality of sight to the attainment of animacy probably made the painting of the eyes a central part of all ceremonies using these ceramic figurines. Additionally, ideas of reciprocity, where the “taking” of anything from the natural or supernatural world required a form of repayment, are a uniting feature of

Mesoamerican spirituality. This is evidenced quite clearly by the seventeenth-century Zapotec practice of sacrificing the blood of a black hen and burning copal incense for the rain gods after a successful harvest (Sellen, 2002: 12-3). Similarly, the contemporary Nahua perform sacrifices on a sacred hill while supplicating and venerating the spirits of their ancestors embodied in paper figurines (Reck, 1986: 104) . Similar beliefs were almost-certainly present at Teotihuacan. This is evidenced by the frequent mural depictions of sacrifices (Figure XCI). Thus, sacrifice in some form was almost certainly performed in figurine ceremonies. This may have been in the form of foods such as tamales or maize, or blood.

Figure XCI: Drawing of Atetelco mural depicting a warrior-priest performing heart sacrifice. The footprints also likely indicate a ritual procession (University of California, San Diego)

If the headdress of Head B bears associations with fertility, it is likely these ceremonies also included the use of seeds and the pouring of water. Manzanilla (2002: 46) identifies these as probable domestic ritual activities based on a phosphate analysis of the floor of the ritual courtyard in the C57 compound that indicates the repeated pouring of liquids over the surface

(Ortiz and Barba, 2007) and an examination of mural art in which these actions are a common motif. These ceremonies would likely have been performed to supplicate a revered ancestor to provide a good harvest or to thank an ancestor for the bounties of a successful growing season.

If Head B, instead, bears warrior associations, these rituals may have been performed by the family of a warrior to supplicate a revered warrior ancestor to bring their descendant glory on the battlefield. It is also possible that these warrior elements were emphasized for the purpose of supplicating the ancestor. As Taube (1992) argues, the occupation of warrior may have been a particularly prestigious marker of status. Thus, the ancestor may have been depicted with warrior features to facilitate praise and worship. Considering the natural associations between

war and blood, which is also reflected in Teotihuacan mural art (for example, Figure LVIII), these rituals may have included the sacrifice of blood.

The specific characteristics of the rituals surrounding Head A are more difficult to speculate about given the unclear identity of the individual the figurine portrays. It is likely that this individual was a revered ancestor. However, without knowledge of how the figurine was painted and dressed, or what type of headdress adorned it, its identity cannot be identified beyond this general classification. Thus, specific attributes of the ceremonies surrounding it cannot be reasonably hypothesized.

When the ritual functions of these figurines was completed, it is likely that they were ritually “killed.” Since the animating features of the eyes and mouth are both on the head and many examples of figurine heads (such as Head B) show evidence of breakage at the neck, it is likely that this killing was affected by the breaking of the figurine at the neck. The head and discarded body could then be abandoned in the refuse sectors common within the complexes

(Manzanilla, 2002: 46).

Some scholars, however, argue that these figurines may have been either ritual or non-ritual (Spence, 2002: 59; Goldsmith, 2000: x; Sullivan, 2007). These positions are based largely on the relative dearth of figurine finds in ritual and burial contexts (Spence, 2002: 59) and the uncertainty generated by the primarily-secondary archaeological context of most examples (Goldsmith, 2001: x). Further, Spence (2002: 59) supports his argument by citing a

Oaxaca Barrio burial in which a child was holding an identical ceramic figurine in each hand like

“cherished playthings.” He further cites the appearance of certain figurines as “more playful than reverent” as a likely indicator of their lack of ritual function.

If these figurines were made for a non-ritual purpose, such as to serve as playthings, it is possible that they were part of a state “socialization” effort where figurines were produced from state-”approved” molds and distributed to families with children. The uniformity of these figurines and their lack of individual features could indicate that they were designed to represent idealized images of certain social classes. For instance, portrait figurines, which likely depict warriors, appear to have been possessed primarily by elite families along the Avenue of the Dead

(Sullivan, 2007: 196). Sullivan (2007: 196) theorizes that this might represent a state effort to encourage the growth of the warrior class by idealizing its image to children. Further, the state could further its apparent homogenizing mission by promoting uniform ideals for each class. As in the case of the Aztec Empire’s use of figurines presented by Brumfiel (1996), the state could also mold these figurines to depict specific class or gender ideologies that it found useful to encourage. For instance, Brumfiel notes that female figurines appear to emphasize childbearing and food production. Both these roles would be particularly useful for an expansive state such as the Aztec Empire, or Teotihuacan, that needed a large population to remain dominant over its neighbors. Further, as appears to have been the case for the Classic Maya, these figurines may have been used for the household performance of myths or historical events (Foias, 2013;

Halperin, 2007; Halperin et. al. 2009; R. Joyce, 2000; Triadan, 2007). These stories may have emphasized values found useful by the state, such as the importance of subordinating oneself to elites, and thus served as a way for the state to “socialize” children.

Head A and Head B, however, appear to have been used for a ritual, rather than non-ritual purpose. This is evidenced by their mouths, which are both partially opened and seem to indicate speech. Further, their eyes appear to have been crafted to leave a clear space for eyes

to be painted on. As speech and sight are key elements of animacy, it is likely that these figurines were ritually used. This ritual use, however, does not preclude the state’s ability to exert its influence through these figurines. Their apparent uniformity could reflect a state effort to homogenize domestic rituals throughout the city. In this case, like in the Classic Maya example, the individuality conferred on these figurines and their related ceremonies in the private space of households may have been conscious efforts by commoners to resist the “public transcript” promoted by the state (Foias, 2013: 197-200). Similar “resistance” is also identified by Spence (2015) in his analysis of the graffiti marks on thin orange ceramics at Teotihuacan.

He cites the dearth of state-promoted iconography in these inscriptions as evidence for either common resistance or disinterest towards state ideology.

Teotihuacan Standing Female Figurine (1974.36.8): ​ Images:

Figure XCII: Standing Female Figurine, front view (Yale University: Peabody Museum of Natural History, photograph by author)

Figure XCIII: Standing Female Figurine, rear view (Yale University: Peabody Museum of Natural History, photograph by author)

Figure XCIV: Standing Female Figurine, side view (Yale University: Peabody Museum of Natural History, photograph by author)

Description:

This standing figurine was crafted from ceramic and measures 10.2 cm x 6.4 cm. Given the presence of a red-orange pigment across the whole of the figure, it appears that this piece was originally painted in this color. The concentration of this residue on the figure’s left side indicates that the object was exposed to uneven wear that was concentrated on its right. The portions of the figure not pigmented display the terra-cotta color typical of fired ceramics. There are, however, four dark, thin lines running diagonally from the top-center of the figure's skirt to the skirt's bottom left corner. A similar mark also appears on the figure's face directly left of the left eye. Given their thinness and irregularity, it is likely these lines are the result of unintentional scratching.

In its construction, the object appears to have been created by laying sheets of clay over a simple figurine base to form an ankle-length skirt and a cape covering the torso and upper arms.

Both these garments are relatively simple and unadorned. The figure's only visible adornments are its headdress, necklace, and earspools. The headdress is comprised of equally-sized bands, with three on the right side and two on the left. A circular element rests in the middle and splits the layers into two distinct groups. This round piece has an indent in its center and spans the full height of the headdress. Looking at the back of this central ornament reveals a rough, fractured surface indicative of damage. Considering that the bands of the headdress appear to have been attached to this middle element, it is quite likely that both sides of the headdress initially possessed three layers, but this damage detached one of the left-side bands. This is further evidenced by the presence of a grayish residue, which might be the remains of a bonding agent, on the portion of the ornament to which the missing band would likely have been attached.

The figure's necklace likewise exhibits a three-tiered design. These approximately-congruent horizontal bands follow the contours of the figure's neck and extend a considerable distance down the figure's front. They are also trisected by a pair of diagonal lines running from opposite sides of the figure's chin to the necklace’s circumference. This necklace is very similar to that seen on Head A and could indicate a shared elite status.

The last mark of ornamentation, the ear-spools, are quite exaggerated in size. Each of these pieces has a diameter roughly equivalent to half the face's length. The ear-spools are round and possess a small indent roughly in their centers.

The face of the figure displays features strikingly similar to those of the two WCMA

Teotihuacan heads. The forehead is broad, a likely sign of cranial deformation, and the nose is relatively flat, and the eyes are disproportionately long. The eyes are depicted as narrow slits that are disproportionately long. There are also no indications of eyebrows. The figure’s mouth is open slightly and is neither particularly large nor notably small in relation to the rest of the face. No lips are depicted, but a small indent in the lower edge of the mouth gives the impression of lips.

In relation to the other Teotihuacan pieces, this figure is particularly notable for its depiction of a full human body. As unadorned clothing covers most of the figure, the hands and the legs are the only non-facial bodily features readily visible. Given the size of these hands and the dimensions of the figure, the forearms appear disproportionately small. Since the palms are extended outwards and perpendicular to the forearms, this is only evident when the figure is viewed from the side. Unlike the hands, the feet exhibit very little detail. They are properly proportioned, but show no marks of toenails or footgear.

Examining the back reveals that these feet are insufficient to support the figure as a rectangular supporting beam extends diagonally from the height at which the skirt meets the upper garment to the level of the feet. This beam is likely original as other examples (Figure

LIX) also possess this feature and Goldsmith (2000: 138) records findings of these supports both attached to and separated from various types of figurines. This beam, like the rest of the back, is roughly shaped and exhibits a complete lack of detail and pigment residue. As such, it is clear that the figure was intended to be viewed solely from the front. This is supported by the thinness of the figure which indicates that it was not intended to be viewed from the side. Disregarding the supporting beam, the figurine is, at most, half an inch thick.

Figure XCV: Rear view of wide-band standing female figurine (Yale University: Peabody Museum of Natural History, photograph by author)

This figurine was likely moldmade. This is evidenced, firstly, by the high degree of detail on the figure’s front in relation to its back. As discussed in the case of Head A, this indicates that the figurine was likely made from a one-part mold. Each portion of the headdress appears to

have been separately attached to the figurine. If this figurine was mold-made, it would likely have been made in the TMM phase (350-750 CE) identified by Goldsmith (2000: Table 1). The

Yale University Peabody Museum of Natural History, however, dates this object to ca. 100-500

CE. This places the figurine in a time period partially before the use of molds was popularized in figurine production (Goldsmith, 2001) and may indicate a belief on the part of the Peabody

Museum curators that the figurine was handmade. However, the museum paperwork I was given access to does not contain the reasoning behind this date.

In Goldsmith’s system of classification, this figurine does not fall clearly into a particular category. In its apparent gender, the flatness of its body, the type of clothes it depicts, the earspools it represents, and its representation of a headdress, the figurine from the Peabody

Museum bears a close resemblance to the clothed female wide band figurines (Figure XCVI,

Figure XCVII, Figure XCVIII). However, the Peabody Museum figurine’s headdress is distinct from these examples due to its three-layered construction and the presence of a circular element in the horizontal center of the headdress where the wide band figurines have a raised ridge.

Further, I could find no other examples where the arms of the figurines were positioned in the manner of the Peabody Museum figurine. Most (Figure XCVII, Figure XCVIII) fail to depict arms or depict arms in a different position. Despite their differences, the array of overlapping characteristics between the Peabody Museum figurine and the wide band figurines indicates that they were likely produced and used for similar functions.

Figure XCVI: Head fragment of wide band headdress figurine (Goldsmith, 2001: Illustration 41)

Figure XCVII: Wide band headdress female figurine (The Saint Louis Art Museum)

Figure XCVIII: Wide band headdress female figurine, ca. 250-650 CE (Denver Art Museum)

Function:

This figurine probably served a ritual function in the domestic space. Firstly, its use in the domestic sphere is evidenced by its size. It is too small for any large public ceremonies and thus was likely used within the apartment complexes by the inhabitants of these compounds.

The ritual function of this figurine is evidenced most directly by an archaeological find related through personal communication by Jamie Delgado in 1997 to Goldsmith (2000: 5). She describes the find Delgado describes in this communication as follows: “a handmade figurine of this type from the Miccaotli-Tlamimilolpa phase was found by salvage archaeologists in primary context in a platform along the area known as the "East-West Avenue" at Teotihuacan. It was surrounded by a number of Clothed Females wearing wide band headdresses, all arranged in a

"scene". The Double Band figurine was in a seated position, and had apparently been holding a baby in a cradle on her lap. This cache included a good number of other artifacts. The figurines were in excellent condition, with well preserved, different colored pigments on their clothes and bodies” (88-9). The “platform” mentioned here likely refers to the central talud-tablero altar of ​ ​ an apartment complex. As this was likely the central ritual space of a compound, this suggests that the figurines were used for a religious purpose. Based on this find, Goldsmith (2000: 5) theorizes that these figurines may have been arranged as part of an infant presentation ritual.

Though, after much searching, I have been unable to find no other primary finds of this nature, I believe that the ritual attribution given by this find is likely correct. This is because, the

Peabody Museum figurine and wide band figurines in general have features that appear to have

been crafted to allow for ritual animation. In a manner not unsimilar to those of Head A and

Head B, the eyes leave room for an artist to paint in life-like pupils. Further, the mouths of these figurines, including that of the Peabody Museum figurine, are often ajar (for example, Figure

LX). This would confer on them the ability of speech. Thus, as with Head A and Head B, these figurines likely were used in a religious ceremonies to act as an embodiment of a revered ancestor or female deity.

The nature of the rituals in which these embodiments were performed likely focused on childbirth and/or agricultural fertility. This is attested to by the find reported by Delgado in which one of the female figurines was likely holding a cradled infant. Further, flat, standing female figurines are often depicted as holding babies (Cowgill, 2015: 222) (Figure XCIX, Figure

C). These depictions associate the figurines with the idea of childbirth by placing the infant directly in the arms of the mother. The ritual characteristics of these figurines could extend to agricultural fertility as it visually depicts the continuation of the human cycle of life. Agriculture hinges on a similar cycle of periodic birth. Further, similar associations between human birth and agricultural fertility may be depicted in the Tepantitla patio mural (Figure XXVIII).

Headrick (2007: 29) interprets the lower opening from which life-giving water flows as a depiction of the birth canal.

Figure XCIX: Standing Mother and Child ceramic figurine, ca. 150-350 CE (Los Angeles County Museum of art)

Figure C: Fragments of standing figurine of mother and child, TMM phase ca. 350-750 CE (Goldsmith, 2001: Illustration 42)

I theorize that the Peabody Museum figurine was particularly concerned with the idea of fertility. My conclusion is grounded primarily on the aforementioned associations of the

standing female figurines as a genre, an interpretation of the figurine’s headdress and other ornamentation, and an examination of its arms.

The adornment of the Peabody Museum figurine bears marked similarities to those often depicted in association with this “Great Goddess” figure or the collection of deities interpreted as such. For simplicity, I will refer to this/these deity(s) as the fertility goddesses. The headdress of the Peabody Figurine quite closely mirrors that seen in a figurine Berlo (1992: 144) identifies as a depiction of the Great Goddess (Figure CI). This figurine, though seated, also closely resembles the Peabody Museum in its clothing, which appears to include both a cape and a long skirt, earspools, and necklace.

Figure CI: Fertility goddess figurine (Berlo, 1992: Figure 14)

Many other Teotihuacan depictions of the fertility goddess bear marked resemblance to the Peabody Museum in adornment (Figure CII, Figure CIII). The majority of these depictions show the goddess figure wearing a cape-like covering of the upper-torso, prominent earspools, and a very wide, rectangular headdress often bearing circular adornments.

Figure CII: Tetitla Jade Tlaloc Mural ((Séjourné 1966:Figure 151)

Figure CIII: Palace of the Jaguars mural (Miller 1973: 57, Figure 47)

The distinct position of the Peabody Museum figurine’s arms further supports this association. In many depictions (Figure CII, Figure XLIII), the goddesses are shown with their arms outwards. Water and other elements linked with fertility, such as conch shells (Pasztory,

1974: 11) in the Jade Tlaloc Mural, are shown flowing from the hands of these goddesses. This hand gesture thus appears to be a sign of fertility and may symbolise the giving of life or fertility.

Thus, in portraying this feature, the Peabody Museum figurine is given strong associations with

fertility and the cycle of life. This indicates that, in domestic ceremonies, it may have served as an embodiment of a fertility goddess. Even if the embodiment contained was not of such a deity, the characteristic positioning of the hands indicates that its ritual functions would be tied to ceremonies of fertility and possibly birth.

The details of the ceremonies surrounding the Peabody Museum figurine cannot be determined without clear glyphic, mural or archaeological data that more clearly associate these figurines with certain ritual actions. However, it is probable that the pouring of water and seeds, two elements Manzanilla (2002: 46) identifies as likely functions in the domestic ritual space, were performed It is also possible that other liquids such as pulque, an alcoholic beverage that ​ ​ features prominently in Mesoamerican ritual due to its alcoholic properties (Nicholson and

Burger, 1968: 11; Starr, 1987: 376), were also utilised in a similar manner. This pouring action would parallel the aforementioned flowing of life-giving substances from the arms of the fertility goddesses. Further, it is likely that the painting of the eyes of this figurine was an important part of these ceremonies as it was probably a vital prerequisite for the figurine to attain ritual animacy. The painting of the figurine’s clothing was also almost-certainly an important part of these ceremonies and is evidenced by the find reported by Delgado (1997) in which pigment was detected on the clothes of the figures he uncovered. This process may have included the painting of elements frequently seen in depictions of these agricultural goddesses and was likely seen as crucial towards the creation of this embodiment. These elements may have included flowers, seeds, shells, and water (Mandell, 2015: 33). It is also quite likely that sacrifice was performed to give the goddess reciprocal “payment” for the promise or completion of a good harvest or successful childbirth. Considering the association of these goddesses with agriculture and often

maize, it is likely that this sacrifice involved the offering of maize or a maize-based food product. As was probable for most Teotihuacan domestic rituals, these ceremonies also likely included processions (Cowgill, 2015: 207).

Conclusion:

Though buried by the sands of time, the spirits of Teotihuacan are not dead. As

Teotihuacanos likely believed, these souls can rise from the grave to share their wisdom.

Through an examination of the qualities and likely ritual functions of four objects that were probably crafted to contain these spirits, I hope to have elucidated the mysterious civilization, traditions, and people of Teotihuacan.

The first of these, the Teotihuacan Stone Mask (WCMA 1957.144) likely made the mortuary bundle a place where the spirit of an elite ancestor could return and commune with the living. These bundles appear to have been housed atop thrones on the talud-tablero temples ​ ​ lining the Avenue of the Dead and probably acted as a way for elite families to enforce their claims to hereditary power. The masked bundles may also have served to enforce a system of primogeniture succession. Further, the generalized features of these masks indicate that they may have been reused through generations, emphasizing the collective identity of the family.

The reflective eye inlays and shell teeth provided a degree of individuality to each successive masked embodiment while also facilitating the bundle’s role as a receptacle for an embodiment.

The two figurine heads, Teotihuacán Head WCMA Accession No. 50.10.A and

Teotihuacán Head WCMA Accession No. 50.10.B were once attached to clay bodies whose distinct clothes and patterns of painting would have given them an individual identity and

allowed the spirit of a specific revered ancestor to become embodied within them. The precise identity of the personage portrayed by Head A cannot be determined beyond their elite status due to our lack of its original body, headdress, clothes, and painting. Head B’s distinctive headdress provides more clues to the figure’s identity. It appears this was an ancestor associated with either warfare or fertility. However, without further evidence, the accuracy of these identifications cannot be determined. Though the function of ceramic figurines at Teotihuacan is not certain, Head A and Head B appear to have been used for ritual purposes. They possess features that would have facilitated ritual animacy. Further, some figurines have been found in particularly clear ritual contexts.

The final object, Teotihuacan Standing Female Figurine (1974.36.8), appears to depict an elite female personage and likely served a ritual function. Its ceremonial nature is indicated both by its physical qualities, which appear to facilitate animation, and an archaeological finding of similar figurines in a ritual “scene.” This embodiment may have been either a revered ancestor or a fertility goddess. The associations of this figurine to the concepts of birth and fertility are indicated by its similarity to mural and figurine depictions of fertility goddesses and the “Great

Goddess.” Further, an examination of these deity portrayals indicates that the position of the figurines arms, extending from the body with the palms facing outward, probably served as a symbol of flowing water, fertility, and the giving of life. Without further evidence, however, none of these conclusions can be made with certainty.

Audiostop:

Katelyn and I worked together on creating this script for the audiostop.

At a wake, the eyes and mouth of a corpse are always closed. The dull, lifeless stare of the dead never meets your mortal gaze. Now imagine those eyes shining like a mirror and staring back at you. Imagine the mouth open in speech. The stony face of death is thus brought back to life by the Teotihuacan stone mask. Once decorated with reflective pyrite-pupiled eyes and shell teeth, it brought the animating traits of speech and sight to the fabric wrapped corpse of an ancestor—making this bundle a place spirit of the deceased could return to see and speak with the living.

*Now move to your [insert direction]*

Let the deep green of this god-figure rest on your eyes; this color is not painted on - the stone is naturally this beautiful color. Set in its now-empty eyes were obsidian disks, shining with the light of life. On its body, a distinct array of clothes make it the living embodiment of a god.

*Now move to your [insert direction]*

Imagine you’re walking through a cornfield, and you see a god figure resting on the earth, adorned with feathers and jewels, skin flayed from a human placed over his face, and offerings laid at his feet. Meet Xochipilli, god of festivities and punisher of overindulgence. Look closely at the rough texture of the stone; this god figure was found outside, just as you imagined. This figure, when activated, brought rain. Rain signified fertility and growth, for without it, corn

could not grow, and people would go hungry. Notice his relaxed posture - his body is identifiable with humankind, and his role as the diety of relaxation and sexual pleasure is reflected here.

*Now move to your [insert direction]*

Venus, the morningstar. Sacrificed in the creation of humankind. The earspools in the lobes on this god-figure identify him as Quetzalcoatl, god of the strong wind, bright morningstar, glowing eveningstar, and creator of humankind. This god-statue would have appeared in a temple, activated by precious stones placed in his eyes and mouth, bringing attention to these spiritual parts of the face. Observe how his hands curve, around the pole of a flag; indeed, this statue played the role of standard bearer, lining the hallways and steps of the temple and inviting all those who walked past.

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