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CHAPTER 1
The City of Teotihuacan and Its Painting Legacy
There is not a single worthwhile question about Teotihuacan, not a single aspect of its society, culture, and history, about which we don't feel a need to know more. GEORGE COWGILL
The ancient city of Teotihuacan in the Valley of Mexico, the first and largest urban center in all of pre-Columbian America, flourished for nearly eight centuries (table 1.1). Even after its demise around 650 ce, the city's largest edifices, the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon — massive stone structures that originally had temples of perishable materials at their summits — continued to dominate the landscape (plates 1–2). The ruins of this ancient cosmopolitan city were never completely hidden in the ways most other Mesoamerican cities are concealed — buried under centuries of creeping jungle or built over by conquering nations. The Mexica Aztecs, whose power spread across central Mexico in the Late Postclassic period — circa 1200 to 1521 — believed that Teotihuacan was the legendary city of Tollan, the place where the sun and moon were created; they named both the pyramids and the city, the name of which translates as "Place of the Gods" or "Place Where Gods are Made." The Mexicas were also the first to excavate the site, located just thirty miles northeast of their capital city of Tenochtitlan (and present-day Mexico City) (map 1.1), in search of prized greenstone. Teotihuacan objects were among the ancient offerings found in their main temple precinct; the Mexicas also emulated Teotihuacan's architectural and sculptural styles, as well as the city's overall layout on a grid plan (figure 1.1). Every twenty days, priests accompanying the emperor Motecuhzoma performed sacrifices in the ruins of the ceremonial center, and they held public punishments every four years. Appreciation of Teotihuacan's material and cosmic manifestations was purposeful. The Mexicas sought power through association to a past that was grander than anything else known before or since, much in the same way the Medici family of Renaissance Florence directly associated with ancient Greece and Rome to build power and legitimize their prestige, wealth, and influence.
In the modern era, Teotihuacan has continued to inspire awe and a sense of wonder in the countless visitors to the site; it has also been the focus of intensive archaeological investigation since it was first mapped by Ramón Almaraz in 1865. Shortly after, the French explorer Desiré Charnay conducted early excavations along the Avenue of the Dead. Seven years after Charnay, William Henry Holmes documented his impressions from his two visits to the center. His observations demonstrate remarkable insights:
The nature and arrangement of the principal structures and features of the city would indicate the domination of religious motives in their construction, and this ... warrants the conclusion that Teotihuacan was in a sense a religious center; but it does not follow that any part of it may not have been devoted to secular uses, and it seems certain that, aside from the great central features, the city was largely one of residence, for there are more decided and extensive traces of domestic architecture than in any other great cities of the country.
Holmes also estimated eight square miles as the area covered by the city. Teotihuacan's urban status was, however, still debated as late as 1950. More than seventy years after Holmes's keen observations, the Teotihuacan Mapping Project of the University of Rochester, under the direction of René Millon, mapped the ruins, including 2,300 residential compounds, pyramids, platforms, thoroughfares, and watercourses. The project conclusively defined the extent of the city as eight square miles, and investigators estimated a stratified population to be between 125,000 and 200,000 at its maximum.
Since the 1960s, Teotihuacan has been recognized as a political and cultural center, the capital of a larger state. At its inception in the Patlachique phase (100–101 bce), between 80 and 90 percent of the population of the Valley of Mexico was resettled in the city, estimated at 20,000 people by the end of that period. René Millon observed that settlements in the Valley of Mexico and surrounding regions were subordinate to an administrative structure centered in the city. The extent of planning that went into the initial cruciform layout of the city (the three-mile-long "Street of the Dead," intersected by the shorter east/west avenue) and the early construction of three major pyramids (the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon in the northern sector and the Temple of Quetzalcoatl, or the Feathered Serpent, in the south) was unprecedented in Mesoamerica. Whether successive building campaigns proceeded according to a master plan or were the result of a series of additions over time that gives an impression of a master plan is debated.
The rapid appearance of permanent, one-story, concrete-faced residential compounds replacing structures made of less durable materials by 200 ce raises the question whether the process should be considered a result of an urban renewal effort controlled by the state or something else. Another viewpoint is that it could have been the result of individual families emulating their neighbors — a kind of keeping up with the Joneses — with permanent housing construction becoming the new standard for demonstrating social status.
At the same time, a massive building campaign took place. It established the city's distinctive architectural profile, known as talud-tablero construction (figures 1.2, 1.3). This comprised a sloping base set above with a rectangular panel, used singly as a unit or repeated to create additional height. Talud-tablero construction was used everywhere, from temple bases that lined the Avenue of the Dead to apartment compound construction and the altars that stood at the center of compound courtyards. This architectural profile became the city's brand and was integral to Teotihuacan's overall identity. Its appearance outside of the city is seen as evidence of Teotihuacan's influence. Perhaps, too, it was a feature that evoked a promise of a certain unique lifestyle, as Teotihuacan was truly cosmopolitan.
The city's 2,300 multifamily apartment compound interiors were divided into public spaces consisting of porticos, patios, temple platforms, and courtyards, as well as private spaces consisting of units with multiple rooms or single apartments. Variations in sizes, quality, and internal organization do not suggest state-directed construction. More than two dozen apartment compounds of various statuses have been excavated; Cowgill points out that a disproportionate number were selected for excavation because of evidence indicating that they had mural paintings, but the actual number of compounds that had mural paintings is not yet clear. Compounds of varying statuses were not always separated and could belong to the same neighborhood (barrio), as in the case of Zacuala Palace and Zacuala Patios. Excavations at La Ventilla also show poor and affluent compounds existing side by side. Excavations inside apartment compounds of various statuses have revealed that Teotihuacanos buried some of their dead underneath the floors of apartments and in the public spaces of patios. Burials were often accompanied by lavish offerings. Linda Manzanilla distinguishes between residential compounds and barrios or neighborhood centers that resemble apartment compounds but were coordinating centers led by urban elites of intermediate status. Organized into noble houses, they played a significant role in specialized elite craft production and procurement of goods and supplies, including unusual ornaments and garments for public display. In comparison to population estimates for the entire city, which hover around 100,000, relatively few burials are encountered. The small number may be explained, in part, by the practice of cremation for the general population. Perspectives on occupational and domestic activities that occurred within apartment compounds and skeletal analyses of individuals associated with the burials provide a glimpse into the daily lives, social organization, and physical stresses experienced by residents in lower-status compounds. Martha Sempowski noted that rich burial offerings could also be associated with individual graves in a compound occupied by people of relatively low status, comparable to those in more affluent compounds. Moreover, Sempowski's study of domestic burials showed that cylinder tripod vessels were consistently associated with those burials that were of higher status. This suggests that the wares were accessible to certain members of the general population. Their association with compounds of varied wealth, from affluent to modest, suggests that these individuals may have shared a common bond through an organization outside of the compound in which they resided or through some specific ritual behavior whose connection was symbolized in part by the presence of the cylinder tripod vessel.
More-recent investigations in the ancient city have placed strong efforts on uncovering political structure at the highest level. The question of supreme leadership is still largely unresolved, as Teotihuacan's "ruler" remains elusive. Excavations at the Temple of the Feathered Serpent yielded over 118 burials of richly dressed sacrificial victims, but not a single burial was identified as a possible ruler. Offerings uncovered at five tombs at the Pyramid of the Moon excavations included remains of bound, decapitated humans and human skulls; Tomb 5 contained the remains of three high-status individuals, but none of the tombs held physical evidence for a ruler. Similarly, evidence of ritual activities and sacrificial deposits at the Pyramid of the Sun provide material evidence for state ideology and centralized rulership but no identifiable burial of a ruler. An alternative model proposes corporate co-rulership that was drawn from the four sectors of the city.
Within Teotihuacan, widespread contacts with other parts of Mesoamerica are evident from an abundance of materials and artifacts of foreign origin, including greenstone from Guerrero, Atlantic and Pacific marine shells, and Thin Orange Ware ceramics from manufacturing sites in Puebla. The long tail feathers of the male quetzal, a bird native to the tropical highlands of Guatemala and Chiapas, were used extensively by the city's elites and are well represented in mural paintings, and on pictorial ceramics and figurines, fanning out from enormous headdresses.
Evidence for ethnic diversity is present in the foreign enclaves in various sectors of the city: the Merchant's Barrio in the east, believed to be a district of Veracruz merchants, and the Oaxaca Barrio, in the western part of the city, have yielded high concentrations of pottery typical to these regions. The city's ethnic diversity is further reflected in the mural paintings, with the presence of Maya-style murals in the Tetitla apartment compound and more-recent discoveries of Maya-style mural fragments near the Plaza of the Columns.
Mural paintings are equally interesting to archaeologists and art historians, with new finds invariably leading to meaningful discourse between the disciplines, often resulting in significant collaborative projects and interdisciplinary studies. Wall paintings are associated with compounds that are wealthy, in the sense that they are finely constructed and have spacious rooms. Compounds occupied by less affluent citizens have few or none. There is a tendency for the wealthier compounds to be located closer to the center of the city. Subjects of mural paintings tend to emphasize elite concerns: the major deities, such as the Storm God, various goddesses, and the Feathered Serpent, were all significant for the state and are frequent subjects. Researchers have observed, however, that among extant murals, there are more representations of elite human figures than any other subject. Excavations at the Techinantitla apartment compound in the mid-1980s by René Millon have added significantly to the corpus of murals centering on human performers.
Typically, in mural paintings, elite figures are depicted in multiple figure processions in the context of ritual activity. While these scenes present a view of the upper strata of the city in their capacity as mediators with the supernatural realm for the benefit of the apartment compound or the larger community, it is equally important to view these representations in the context of self-aggrandizement. Distinguished by elaborate clothing as members of institutions closely allied with the supernatural — indeed, Esther Pasztory has suggested that the visual correspondences between elites and deities are so close as to become interchangeable — they represent groups with special achievement. Glorification of their own important roles and functions among the population and their proximity to powerful supernatural forces are evident in the paintings.
Today, millions of international visitors to Teotihuacan, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, share the awe and wonder the city has continuously inspired for so many centuries. They have the privilege of taking in the grand vista of the city from atop the Pyramids of the Sun and the Moon — if they can make the climb — as well as from other key locations in the ceremonial center. Having undertaken these climbs myself more times than I can count, I have wondered how many of the city's residents actually experienced the views from these locations. Not many, I imagine, because access to certain structures was surely defined and restricted by status. While these expansive, privileged cityscapes will always be among my favorites, I have come to value the more intimate views of Teotihuacan as the most authentic in relation to the everyday life of its populace: the views from ground level, from the multiroomed apartment compounds, amid the activity along the expansive Street of the Dead, framed by temple platforms, or in more-remote parts of the city as yet unexcavated. Everywhere one goes, the hulking stone masses of the pyramids are always visible.
These two views — the one from above the city and the other from the ground — have become metaphors in my mind for the ways scholars have attempted to understand Teotihuacan and its relationship to other Mesoamerican cultures. Views from above incorporate ideological perspectives that seek to identify Teotihuacan's rulers and grasp its influence as an overarching and motivating force in the development of Maya states, even its role in the investiture of Maya kings. The views from below, coming down to earth, put us in intimate contact with the internal activities — both mundane and sacred — of the city and its populace. It is not hard to imagine the daily routines and cacophony of sounds that filled both that great public avenue running through the city's center and the private spaces of the apartment compounds. Remnants of daily life are today encountered in the ancient city through the obsidian fragments, pottery sherds, and figurine fragments that are still present below our feet. Tourists who may be tempted to reach down and pick up a fragment as a souvenir are quickly discouraged by the sharp and immediate warning sound of a guard's whistle.
At the same time, the design and planning of Teotihuacan were ideal for the city's inhabitants to both participate in and observe ritual processions and activities unfolding in public spaces. George Cowgill observes that the north/south avenue was not a thoroughfare connecting sectors of the city but a stage for processions ending at the Pyramid of the Moon.
What is strikingly absent from both perspectives, however, is color. I think of Teotihuacan today as a city viewed in black and white, like an old movie. Unless the average visitor to Teotihuacan ventures into the National Museum in Mexico City and takes in the reconstructed Temple of the Feathered Serpent, replete with color (plate 4), he or she would be unaware that Teotihuacan's architectural landscape was rich in color. If they look very closely at the surfaces of buildings while touring the city, they can still discern small remnants of plaster and worn colors. Originally, surfaces of monumental constructions glistened with pigments — red, green, and yellow — and smooth plaster coatings sparkled with quartz sand. The structures as we know them today, devoid of their painted surfaces, are appreciated for their size, design, and sculptural decoration but not their former colors. It is as though the beautiful skin of the city has completely peeled off to reveal its bones.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Made to Order"
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