Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes 9780500516560

Citation preview

Wari

Wari Lords of the Ancient Andes

Susan E. Bergh Introduction by Luis G. Lumbreras With

Luis Jaime Castillo Butters Anita G. Cook Mary Glowacki William H. Isbell and Margaret Young-Sánchez Justin Jennings Heidi King Patricia J. Knobloch Gordon F. McEwan and Patrick Ryan Williams Donna Nash Ann Pollard Rowe Katharina Schreiber

Published on the occasion of the exhibition Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes, organized by the Cleveland Museum of Art. The Cleveland Museum of Art 28 October 2012–6 January 2013 Museum of Art Fort Lauderdale 10 February–19 May 2013 Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth 16 June–8 September 2013

Continuing a tradition of strong support and active involvement in the arts, Hahn Loeser & Parks is proud to sponsor the first North American major exhibition devoted to the startlingly beautiful arts of the Wari. An ancestor of the better-known Inca, the Wari are believed to have forged one of the first empires of the ancient Andes.

Lawrence E. Oscar Chief Executive Officer

Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes has been made possible in part by the National Endowment for the Humanities: Exploring the human endeavor. This exhibition is supported by an indemnity from the Federal Council on the Arts and the Humanities. Support for exhibition programming has been provided in part by Georgia and Michael DeHavenon and by the Ohio Humanities Council, a state affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities. Research for this exhibition was supported by a Curatorial Research Fellowship from the Getty Foundation.

Stephen J. Knerly Jr. Partner

This publication is made possible in part by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.

Hahn Loeser & Parks LLP

The Cleveland Museum of Art is generously funded by Cuyahoga County residents through Cuyahoga Arts and Culture. The Ohio Arts Council helped fund this exhibition with state tax dollars to encourage economic growth, educational excellence, and cultural enrichment for all Ohioans.

Hahn Loeser has a long history of supporting the Cleveland Museum of Art. Together with our clients and staff, we congratulate the museum for offering stellar exhibitions such as Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes. Hahn Loeser looks forward to a strong future for the arts, thanks to the efforts of the Cleveland Museum of Art.

Contents

ix

Lenders to the Exhibition

x Director’s Foreword xi Acknowledgments xiv

Maps

1 Introduction Luis G. Lumbreras 5 The History of Inquiry into the Wari and Their Arts Susan E. Bergh and Justin Jennings

Interpreting a Cosmopolitan Andean Society 31 The Rise of an Andean Empire Katharina Schreiber 47 Looking at the Wari Empire from the Outside In Luis Jaime Castillo Butters

Transforming the World 65 The Wari Built Environment: Landscape and Architecture of Empire Gordon F. McEwan and Patrick Ryan Williams 82 The Art of Feasting: Building an Empire with Food and Drink Donna Nash 103 122 145

The Coming of the Staff Deity Anita G. Cook Archives in Clay: The Styles and Stories of Wari Ceramic Artists Patricia J. Knobloch Shattered Ceramics and Offerings Mary Glowacki

159

Tapestry-woven Tunics Susan E. Bergh

193

Tie-dyed Tunics Ann Pollard Rowe

207

Featherwork Heidi King

217

Inlaid and Metal Ornaments Susan E. Bergh

233

Figurines Susan E. Bergh

243

Wood Containers and Cups Susan E. Bergh

The Aftermath 251 Wari’s Andean Legacy William H. Isbell and Margaret Young-Sánchez

268

Checklist of the Exhibition

279

Reference List

Lenders to the Exhibition

Private Collectors

Museo de Arte de Lima

I. Michael Kasser Collection

Museo de Sitio Huaca Pucllana, Lima

Private collections

Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho

Institutional Lenders

Museo Larco, Lima

American Museum of Natural History, New York City

Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima

The Art Institute of Chicago Brooklyn Museum, New York City

Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins”

The Cleveland Museum of Art

Museum der Kulturen, Basel

Dallas Museum of Art

Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence

The Dayton Art Institute, Ohio Denver Art Museum Deutsches Textilmuseum, Krefeld Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC

Museum of Fine Arts, Houston Museum Rietberg, Zurich Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen

Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin

Niedersächsiches Landesmuseum, Hannover

Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco

Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge

Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles Fundación Museo Amano, Lima Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth Linden-Museum, Stuttgart Los Angeles County Museum of Art The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City Michael C. Carlos Museum, Emory University, Atlanta Milwaukee Public Museum Museo de América, Madrid Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima

ix

Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima Princeton University Art Museum Roemer- und Pelizaeus-Museum, Hildesheim Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich The Textile Museum, Washington, DC University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia

© 2012 The Cleveland Museum of Art. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any other information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the Cleveland Museum of Art. The works of art themselves may also be protected by copyright in the United States of America or abroad and may not be reproduced in any form or medium without permission from the Cleveland Museum of Art. Images of works of art in the exhibition were provided by the lenders, unless noted otherwise. Objects in the collection of the Cleveland Museum of Art were photographed by museum photographers Howard Agriesti and Gary Kirchenbauer. David Brichford and Bruce Shewitz assisted with preparation of the digital files, and Howard Agriesti supervised the color management. All works of art themselves may be protected by copyright in the United States or abroad and may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the copyright holders. Where provided, individual photographers and copyright holders are acknowledged in figure captions.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012932588 Casebound, Thames & Hudson Inc.: ISBN 978-0-500-51656-0 Paperback, The Cleveland Museum of Art: ISBN: 978-1-935294-07-8 First published in 2012 in hardcover in the United States of America by Thames & Hudson Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10110 thamesandhudsonusa.com Produced by the Cleveland Museum of Art Editing: Barbara J. Bradley and Kathleen Mills Proofreading: Amanda A. Mikolic and Andrea F. Vazquez Design: Thomas H. Barnard III Prepress production: Howard Agriesti and David Brichford Printed and bound in Italy by Graphicom The Cleveland Museum of Art www.ClevelandArt.org

[103]. Frontispiece, detail of a tunic fragment with birdheaded staff-bearing creature in profile. (For the complete textile, see fig. 152.)

Director’s Foreword

The central Andes is one of only four places in the world where civilization emerged independently; the complex societies that developed there are unique in having done so in the absence of an alphabet and writing. Among them, the Wari in Peru, who held sway in the region from about AD 600 to 1000, forged a society of such unprecedented complexity that many today interpret it as the region’s first empire. In spite of this remarkable accomplishment, the Wari remain poorly known outside of specialists’ circles. The Cleveland Museum of Art is pleased to bring this crucial but surprisingly unfamiliar chapter in Amerindian achievement to public attention. The timing of Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes is felicitous; it precedes by less than a year the opening of galleries for the museum’s well-regarded Pre-Columbian collection, which go on view in summer 2013 as our renovation and construction project draws to a close. This exhibition and these galleries confirm our pledge to display the arts of Amerindian peoples, a commitment the museum’s founders established when they resolved to make “the first attempt of an American art museum to show . . . the art of those who lived here [in the Americas] before the white man came.” We are pleased to renew and carry forward this important aspect of their vision as the museum approaches its 2016 centenary. Initial thanks go to Susan E. Bergh, the museum’s curator of the arts of the ancient Americas, for bringing Wari to the attention of audiences in the United States with the exhibition and this catalogue. She began working on the project in 2007, conducting research in many collections internationally and gathering together a team of expert advisors, both art historians and archaeologists.

x

Most sincere gratitude is due the public institutions in Europe, Peru, the U.S., and Canada and the several private collectors who allowed the splendid works of art in their care to travel long distances. The exhibition would never have taken place without their enthusiasm, generosity, and help, often provided at the cost of precious time and effort, particularly in the case of the Textile Museum. In Peru, we extend very special thanks to President Ollanta Humala and to the Ministry of Culture under the direction of Dr. Luis Peirano Falconí for critical assistance in arranging loans. Equally crucial is the support of several funders, to whom we offer heartfelt appreciation. They include Hahn Loeser & Parks LLP, the sponsor of the Cleveland presentation, and the National Endowment for the Humanities. The Federal Council on the Arts and the Humanities indemnified the exhibition. Georgia and Michael DeHavenon and the Ohio Humanities Council, a state affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities, provided funding for the exhibition’s public programming. A Curatorial Research Fellowship grant from the Getty Foundation supported early research. Finally, this engaging and beautiful catalogue is made possible by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation. We are delighted that Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes will be on view at the Museum of Art Fort Lauderdale and then at the Kimbell Art Museum in Fort Worth and confident that it will captivate audiences at all three venues. David Franklin, President and CEO Sarah S. and Alexander M. Cutler Director The Cleveland Museum of Art

Acknowledgments

These acknowledgments begin with the people to whom this catalogue is dedicated: my parents, Florence and Norman Bergh, who are bedrock, and the scholars Dorothy Menzel and Alan Sawyer, both pioneers in Wari studies whose seminal, time-tested contributions are recognized universally. No exhibition comes into being without the collegiality, friendship, and cooperation of dozens of people and institutions. A milestone in the inception of this project was the meetings of advisors, both local and international, who provided invaluable advice: Luis Jaime Castillo Butters; Anita G. Cook; Peter Dunham; Enrique González Carré, who has been a friend to the exhibition in many ways; Anne Helmreich, who was both personally and professionally important; William H. Isbell; Justin Jennings; Miriam Levin; Luis G. Lumbreras; Gordon F. McEwan; Christian Mesía Montenegro; Donna Nash; Katharina Schreiber; Rebecca Stone; John Topic; and Patrick Ryan Williams. Professional facilitator Richard Buchanan expertly guided discussion, assuring that no time was wasted. I also deeply appreciate the efforts of the authors whose thoughtful essays make up this catalogue; it has been a privilege to work with them. A special salute is owed the funders whose generosity David Franklin recognizes in his foreword. I add my gratitude to his, and send personal thanks to Barbara Bays of the NEH, the DeHavenons, and Stephen J. Knerly Jr. for their kind assistance. Crucial to any exhibition is the willingness of institutions and individuals to lend treasures from their collections and to invest considerable time and effort in doing so. For their generous help with loans and access to collections for study, I am very grateful to

xi

Charles Spencer, Sumru Aricanli, and Judith Levinson, American Museum of Natural History, New York, where errant loan requests were processed with great speed and courtesy; Nancy Rosoff, Brooklyn Museum, who has been a friend and project supporter; Carol Robbins and Roslyn Walker, Dallas Museum of Art; Sally Kurtz, the Dayton Art Institute; Margaret Young-Sánchez, Denver Art Museum, who contributed through both word and lastminute deeds of generosity; Isa FleischmannHeck and Petra Brachwitz, Deutsches Textilmuseum, Krefeld; Juan Antonio Murro, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC; Manuela Fischer and Lena Bjerregaard, Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, who offered unstinting hospitality and access to collections in storage; Marla Berns and John Pohl, Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles; Rosa Watanabe, Fundación Museo Amano, Lima; Jennifer Casler Price, Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, with whom it has been a pleasure to work as a venue partner; Doris Kurella and Inés de Castro, Linden-Museum, Stuttgart; Kaye Spilker and the late, much missed Virginia Fields, Los Angeles County Museum of Art; Julie Jones, Heidi King, and Christine Giuntini, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, who gave me the benefit of their professional advice and personal friendship; Bonnie Speed, Michael C. Carlos Museum, Emory University, Atlanta; Ellen Censky and Dawn Scher Thomae, Milwaukee Public Museum; Werner Rutishauser, Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen; Concepción García Sáiz and Ana Verde, Museo de América, Madrid; Rector Pedro Cotillo Zegarra, Carlos Del Águilar Chávez, and Christian Altamirano, Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad

Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima; Kate Irvin, Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence; Natalia Majluf and Cecilia Pardo Grau, Museo de Arte de Lima; Pamela Parmal, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; Frances Marzio and Chelsea Dacus, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; Mario Teodoro Cueto Cárdenas and Jorge Luis Soto Maguino, Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho; Alexander Brust, Museum der Kulturen, Basel; Andrés Alvarez-Calderón and Ulla Holmquist, Museo Larco, Lima; the staff at the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, including current and former directors Carmen Teresa Carrasco Cavero and Carmen Arellano Hoffman and section heads Sonia Amparo Quiroz Calle, Gabriela Schworbel, Carmen Thays Delgado, and Milano Trejo Huayta, along with all of the helpful personnel in their departments; Peter Fux, Museum Rietberg, Zurich; Emma Susana Arce Torres, Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins”; Isabel Flores Espinoza and Pedro Vargas Nalvarte, Museo de Sitio Huaca Pucllana, Lima; Jutta SteffenSchrade, Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover; Jeffrey Quilter and Susan Haskell, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge; at Lima’s Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Rector Marcial Rubio Correa, Enrique González Carré, and Luis Jaime Castillo Butters and his dedicated students; Bryan Just, Princeton University Art Museum; the several private collectors, including I. Michael Kasser, who kindly assumed the burden of coordinating loans; Regine Schulz, Roemerund Pelizaeus-Museum, Hildesheim; Justin Jennings and Anu Liivandi, Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto; Christine Stelzig, Elke

x ii

Bujok, and Regina Stumbaum, Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich; Maryclaire Ramsey, Esther Méthé, Ann Rowe, and Rachel Shabica, the Textile Museum, Washington, DC, whose efforts on behalf of the project were extraordinary; and Lucy Fowler Williams and William Wierzbowski, University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia. The staff at many other museums also accommodated my research requests and visits; only limitations of space prevent me from thanking these colleagues by name. Others outside of the museum also contributed in indispensable ways. Patricia Díaz translated official letters and documents into graceful, nuanced Spanish. Patricia Knobloch selflessly provided hours of consultation about the ins and outs of Wari ceramic styles. In the project’s final phases, fellow Andrea F. Vazquez arrived in the nick of time and adroitly handled many tasks in relation to the catalogue and other matters. She followed in the footsteps of Wendy Earle, who as an intern competently assisted with earlier phases of research. At the cost of much time and effort, Barbara Wolff of Ayni guided our efforts to arrange a visit to Cleveland by master weavers from Ayacucho. Fatma Wille of Christie’s evaluated our loan list for federal indemnity, and David Bernstein, Steve Burger, and Stacy Goodman provided important help. An especially heartfelt expression of gratitude must be extended to Bertha Vargas Vargas, who served as our knowledgeable, accomplished impresario of the Peruvian loan process. Neither the museum nor I could have managed without her. Recognition of individuals at the Cleveland Museum of Art must start with the curatorial

assistants who have formed the other half of the Department of Pre-Columbian and Native North American Art. Lisa Simmons deftly got the project under way before she began walking north on the Appalachian Trail. Amanda Mikolic immediately stepped in, and her masterful organization, efficiency, and unruffled calm have helped to keep both me and the project on track, even in times of trouble. I thank them both affectionately. I am particularly grateful to Director David Franklin and Deputy Director C. Griffith Mann for their courageous and unwavering support. Several factors made the catalogue a challenge to bring to fruition, but editor Barbara J. Bradley met the challenge with great professional expertise, intelligence, and patience; her efforts were abetted by the skillful copy editing of Kathleen Mills. Thomas Barnard is responsible for the clarity of many of the catalogue’s graphics and the elegance of its design, which he accomplished with characteristic flair and good humor. Howard Agriesti and David Brichford worked miracles with many of the photographs that appear in the following pages. The daunting task of arranging loans from nearly fifty national and foreign lenders fell on the strong shoulders of Mary Suzor’s Collections Management staff, especially Kim Cook. The conservators who, under Marcia Steele’s leadership, brought their professionalism and helpfulness to bear include Colleen Snyder, Samantha Springer, and especially Robin Hanson, whose efforts on the project’s behalf have been extensive and exceptional. James Englemann, under Jeffrey Strean’s direction, created the exhibition’s poetic design, an effort that our mount makers, graphic design team, and label editors complemented. In the

x iii

Education Department, Caroline Goeser has been a valued colleague and ally; her dedicated team created imaginative programming to improve the public’s understanding of Wari, an effort in which the Textile Art Alliance energetically participated. John Ewing and Massoud Saidpour infused the past with the present through inventive contemporary music and film programming. Heidi Strean and her staff in the Exhibition Office—first Sheri Walter, then Sarah Otto—ably handled myriad organizational details and responded with aplomb to emergencies. Fundraising was adeptly orchestrated by members of August Napoli’s department, including Marianne Bernadotte, Kathy Rowe, Achala Wali, and Cindy Flores, who stayed late to beat the deadlines. Librarians Betsy Lantz, Louis Adrean, and Matthew Gengler were fast on their feet in providing research materials and assistance; they are consummate professionals. In marketing and communications, Elizabeth Bolander conducted audience research and oversaw marketing outreach with typical intelligence and focus. John Baburek went to much effort to stock the gift shop with culturally appropriate offerings. Finally are the family and friends who supported me during the demanding process of transforming the idea into reality. To all, including nieces who were especially boisterous and refreshing, I am sincerely grateful for encouragement, advice, patience, and help both material and intangible. Susan E. Bergh Curator, Pre-Columbian and Native North American Art The Cleveland Museum of Art

E C U A D O R

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Luis G. Lumbreras

Introduction

When the Spaniards landed in Peru in 1532, they found the Inca Empire, which encompassed a vast territory extending south from southern Colombia through all of Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, two-thirds of Chile, and the northwestern wedge of Argentina. The Inca referred to their domain as “Tawantinsuyu” (The Land of Four Parts), and the image of their empire soon predominated European thinking about the ancient Andes, often obscuring essential questions and affecting Western thinking about the nature and origins of civilization in the region. Indeed, the conquistadors tended to picture Tawantinsuyu as a kind of replica of the Roman Empire. In the centuries following the conquest, understanding Inca origins was no easy task since indigenous writing systems never developed in the Andes. The only reports available are accounts the Spaniards created based on their own eyewitness observations along with testimony from the Inca and other natives who had survived the conquest and the scourge of diseases Europeans introduced. According to the origin myths these natives recounted, the Inca arrived in Cuzco, their capital in Peru’s southern highlands, from the shores of Bolivia’s Lake Titicaca, near which the Tiwanaku civilization had developed in pre-Inca times. The obvious inference was that the Tiwa­naku must have been the Incas’ ancestors. (The creation myth also held that nearly all Inca deities had sprung forth from the depths of the lake, which natives therefore regarded as a pacarina or “birthplace.”) This conceptual model persisted from the time of the conquest until the early twentieth century, when archaeological research began to reveal a much longer period of occupation and provide a better picture of the development of civiliza-

1

tion in the Andes. We now know that the Inca were a brief, 100-year episode that culminated a complex history of settled life reaching back to about 3000 BC. We also now know that during the period today known as the Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000), Tiwanaku was not alone in the Andean cultural landscape. Rather, it had a powerful contemporary—Wari (see pp. 5–27, “The History of Inquiry into the Wari and Their Arts”). Given Tiwanaku’s prominence in colonial records as well as the renown of its fine stone sculpture among early explorers and travelers (see fig. 6a), it is not surprising that some of the earliest modern archaeological research, conducted in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, focused on the Tiwanaku capital city. Important in this regard is the description that German archaeologist Max Uhle published of Tiwanaku in 1892, based on the research conducted by his fellow countryman Alphons Stübel.1 Uhle went on to discover that Tiwanaku-like influence had registered at sites in the western Pacific coastal regions of Peru. During excavations he conducted in 1896 at Pachacamac, the sprawling archaeological site on the outskirts of modern-day Lima, Uhle unearthed Tiwanaku-like ceramics and textiles that stratigraphically predated any Inca remains. He thus definitively established the greater antiquity of the Tiwanaku-like style and confirmed its spread to the central coast of Peru.2 Some years later, Wendell Clark Bennett conducted excavations at Tiwanaku, again asserting that its development had preceded the Inca. Bennett formulated a cultural timeline, including a “Classic” period that led to a Tiwanaku expansion period and finally to the Inca, as Uhle had originally surmised.3 Tiwanaku occupied the middle of the timeline,

and all indications thus tended to confirm the role of this culture as a source for the Incas. But Bennett also excavated at a huge site in Ayacucho, Peru, that is now recognized as the Wari capital, there discovering ceramics in a style then termed “Tiwanakoid” because their iconography is similar to that found on Tiwanaku artifacts. Based on this and other evidence, the archaeologists Rafael Larco Hoyle and Julio C. Tello hypothesized that the Ayacucho site—not Tiwanaku—had served as the source of “Tiwanakoid” incursions along the coast and in other regions of Peru, a pattern of far-flung distribution suggesting the existence of an empire that predated the Inca.4 This idea of empire, however, did not gain major acceptance until the 1960s. The ensuing decades have been filled with intense archaeological research bolstered by advances in scientific dating and the study of archaeological remains. This research has revealed that an agricultural people known as the Huarpa, after the name of the region’s main river, emerged between the second and fourth centuries AD in the Ayacucho Valley, the Wari heartland. By the fifth century, the Huarpa had converged along the forty-five-mile length of the valley and established a unified realm between the Mantaro and Pampas Rivers. The Wari culture coalesced from these humble Huarpa roots. As it did, its development focused on two key settlements in the Ayacucho region: the Wari capital, also known as Wari, and nearby Conchopata. By the middle of the sixth century, virtually all of present-day Peru was undergoing a general crisis triggered by environmental perturbations, including drought and floods. These conditions affected all cultures in the region and led to a period of great social upheaval as the Moche, Lima, and Nasca peoples of the Peruvian coast as well as the highlanders of the Cajamarca, Huaylas, and Titicaca regions migrated to other areas or struggled and competed to increase their water and food supplies. It was at this time that Wari began its initial expansion, which apparently arose from the need to obtain more land in the face of the climate crisis. In my view, current information about this period points to a long-term

2

Luis G. Lumbreras

Wari invasion of many areas of the Andes. Perhaps initially peaceful, these campaigns soon became hostile in nature; waves of Ayacucho warriors may have swept across the region. On the north coast, the Moche civilization had entered a decline marked by tremendous change that Wari influenced (see pp. 47–61, “Looking at the Wari Empire from the Outside In”). The central coast Lima culture, which had undergone considerable earlier local development, was also beset by strong Wari influence, particularly at Pachacamac. In the Nasca region on the south coast, an earlier period marked by internal violence and upheaval (between the Nasca III and Nasca V phases) led to the collapse of the Nasca culture and its final assimilation by the Wari in the early stages of their existence. This process also occurred in the highlands, from Cajamarca and Huamachuco in the north to the Vilcanota and Cuzco Valleys, the later domain of the Inca in the southern highlands. Even farther south, Wari’s incursion into Tiwanaku territory first occurred in the Moquegua Valley. The Wari may even have attempted to penetrate into Tiwanaku’s highland territory on the Bolivian altiplano; if so, they were turned back and settled along the Chuquibamba and Colca Rivers in the southern Peruvian sierra, on the outskirts of Tiwanaku’s realm. There is also evidence of significant interaction between Wari and central Ecuadorian groups, as well as between Wari and cultures of the Tacna and Arica regions of Chile. Wari’s direct contact with these cultures allowed it to absorb, broaden, and refine a range of manufacturing techniques from the Nasca, the Lima, the Tiwanaku, and others. Important among them were ceramic technologies, but also others. The Wari also likely came into contact with new customs and beliefs that furthered their development. The process of expansion also led to the evolution of more complex social structures among the Wari. The result was an empire that extended across virtually the entire territory we now call Peru. This empire had many of the same characteristics as the Inca Empire: a major capital city in which power was concentrated as it was in Cuzco, the Inca capital; administrative centers of various sizes throughout the

region; the Wariñan (Wari road), a network of roads like the Inca road system, which linked important nodes throughout the empire and facilitated transportation and communication; a powerful army; an elaborate state-sponsored religion. Like the later Inca, the Wari Empire also seems to have maintained state-supervised workshops for the production of textiles and ceramics, employed a system of recording and accounting based on the use of khipus (fiber recording devices), and created symbols of power in the form of architecture and the fine works of art featured in this catalogue. Some modern scholars also believe that the Wari had an institution of compulsory rotating labor service, known among the Inca as m’ita (see pp. 251–67, “Wari’s Andean Legacy”). This empire came into being about a millennium before the Inca; some suggest that it may not have entered into a final decline until the Inca began their rise to prominence in the Cuzco area in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Some interpreters believe it is possible that, between the eleventh and twelfth

notes

1. Stübel and Uhle 1892. 2. Uhle [1903] 1991. 3. Bennett 1934. 4. Larco Hoyle 1948; Tello [1931] 1970.

3 I ntroduction

centuries, the Wari transferred their seat of government to Cuzco after the decline of their Ayacucho capital metropolis. If so, perhaps Manko Qhapaq and Zinchi Roq’a, the early, legendary Inca rulers, witnessed the last vestiges of the Wari, whom the Inca might have conceived as their traditional enemies (chancas). The Spanish chronicles tell us that it was the defeat of the chancas that launched the Inca Empire. Thus, the relationship between the Wari and the Inca empires may be one of continuity rather than simple antecedence. Whether or not this was the case, most researchers now agree that Wari was the center of an archaic Peruvian state, the vestiges of which are still being discovered and described. Although much research remains to be conducted, particularly at the Wari capital, it seems clear that Wari was a precursor of Tawantinsuyu, and perhaps its direct forerunner. The essays in this catalogue, which accompanies a landmark exhibition, offer a range of perspectives on this important period in history.

Susan E. Bergh and Justin Jennings

The History of Inquiry into the Wari and Their Arts

Figure 1 [16]. Urn with staff deities, from Pacheco (for details, see fig. 5); ceramic and slip; 83.5 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, S/C. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

The historian-soldier Pedro de Cieza de León was about thirty years old when, in 1547, he set out on a historic journey: a trek by foot and horseback into the vast, rugged territory of Peru, then a Spanish colony that spanned much of an ancient Amerindian culture region known today as the central Andes (see maps, pp. xiv, xv). Traveling with fellow Spanish troops, Cieza entered Peru from the northern reaches of the Andes mountain range, skirting misty precipices and passing over plunging gorges on roads and bridges built by the Inca, whose empire had shattered violently just a few years earlier. He then descended to the stark, dun-colored desert that blankets the Pacific shoreline, fording the rivers that generations of Indians had used to coax the parched land into bloom, before turning again into the mountains. During his journeys, he gathered irreplaceable eyewitness information about the natives and their lands that he published in his legendary Crónica del Perú, the first part of which has been called a “Baedeker’s guide” to sixteenth-century Peru.1 In about 1548, Cieza visited an abandoned, ruined city some 2,800 meters (about 9,200 feet) above sea level in the Guamanga Valley, today’s Ayacucho Valley, an arid region in Peru’s central highlands where agriculture is poor and Andean camelids (llamas, alpacas, and others) graze on the slopes of snowcapped peaks. Confronted with this mysterious ruin, Cieza used the instincts of an amateur archaeologist, along with the testimony of Quechua-speaking natives whose voices many earlier Spanish chroniclers had neglected, to draw insightful conclusions. The greatest river of the region is called Vinaque, where there are some large and

5

very ancient buildings, which certainly because of their weathered and ruinous condition must have lasted through many ages. Questioning the neighboring Indians as to who built that ancient place, they answer that it was other bearded, white people like us, who, a long time before the rule of the Incas, are said to have come to this region and made their residence in it. And in regard to these and other ancient buildings in this realm, it seems to me that their plan is different from those [structures] which the Incas built or ordered built, for this building was square and Inca buildings are long and narrow. There is also a tale that writing was found on a stone slab of this building . . . in my opinion, people of great skill and reason arrived here in ancient times, and they built these things and others that we do not see.2 Cieza’s is the first written note about the great capital city of the Wari (also spelled “Huari”), a term that today refers to a people and a culture that flourished about AD 600– 1000, a period known as the Middle Horizon. Specialists now recognize that the capital, also known as Wari, is the center of one of the largest archaeological zones in South America.3 But astonishingly, despite being familiar to Ayacucho natives, it disappeared from the published record for nearly four centuries after Cieza’s brief notice. Not until the twentieth century did pioneering archaeologists, first from Peru and then also from other countries, begin to describe the city and the “people of great skill and reason” who, centuries before the Inca, wrote an ambitious chapter in both world history and the pre-European history of the Western Hemisphere.

Figure 2. Vicuñas grazing in the high, wet grasslands (bofedales) of northern Chile. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

Although many strides have been made in recuperating Wari, the culture remains surprisingly little known outside Peru, where the Pre-Columbian past is a part of daily life through media reports of new archaeological discoveries and a landscape littered with ancient monuments. This catalogue and the accompanying exhibition—the first in North America and only the second in the world of its kind4—are correctives, organized in the belief that Wari and its unsung achievements have interest far beyond Peru. For they tell the story of a people of modest beginnings whose charismatic leaders, without the aid of a system of writing and far from the influence of the Old World, created a cosmopolitan civilization that many now regard as one of the Americas’ first empires. In some respects it is a familiar story of human struggle, ingenuity, and vision, the latter perhaps more a result than the impetus of an effort that at times must have been contingent and scrambling. In other ways, however, Wari’s habits of thought and action are foreign and provide intriguing, fresh perspectives on our own. This may be especially so of the arts, which, as among other pre-industrial cultures, were central to Wari’s political system, religion, economy,

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and technologies: they commanded enormous resources and intellectual investment, served as forms of wealth and power, promoted the spread of religious and political ideas, and in the absence of writing functioned as durable forms of communication.5 The arts, then, were not passive aesthetic by-products, as they are too often regarded today, but active tools that abetted human achievement. If, as some suggest, the Wari succeeded in part by positioning themselves to outsiders as powerful mediators of earthly and cosmic affairs,6 the arts were crucial to giving reality to the claim. As Cieza discovered, the territory in which Wari developed is spectacularly diverse in geography, climate, and natural resources. The Andes—after the Himalayas, the highest mountain range in the world—comprise two parallel chains of peaks that slice from north to south, dividing the land into three broad zones. The extreme vertical topography of the Peruvian sierra itself, where Wari’s capital and provincial outposts lie, creates remarkable environmental diversity, with distinct ecological niches that vary according to altitude. Between elevations of 4,000 and 5,000 meters (13,000 and 16,000 feet) are high, cold grasslands almost deserted except by camelids, including the wild vicuña and guanaco as well as herds of domesticated llamas and alpacas valued for their meat and their silky hair, which in antiquity was woven into fine textiles (fig. 2). Below, on land that plunges into deep river valleys, more moderate climate and the annual cycle of highland rain make agriculture possible; here, both today and in the past, quinoa, hundreds of varieties of potatoes, and other tubers thrive at higher altitudes, giving way at lower elevations to fields for maize and various kinds of beans, squash, chili peppers, and fruits (fig. 3). Major markets never developed in the Andes because of the proximity of these diverse zones; ancient settlement commonly occurred at elevations that allowed easy access to all. The western coast, where many Wari objects have been found in graves and buried deposits, is a nearly rainless desert where life was sustained by the sea’s abundance and crops irrigated in the oasis-like valleys of freshwater rivers that flow down from the

highlands (fig. 4). Here ancient farmers grew maize, squash, gourds, and such fruits such as the creamy chirimoya and caramel-flavored lúcuma, along with peanuts and, importantly, cotton, the second fiber crucial to textiles. So productive were these desert valleys that the coast was always relatively densely populated in antiquity, and it remains so today. The lush green montaña of the eastern Andean slopes, which fall steeply to the Amazonian rainforest, was more marginal to Wari although trade with both regions brought such exotics as the brilliant feathers of tropical birds into reach. Another important product of this region was coca, used for its medicinal properties, as an important ceremonial material, and sometimes as a medium of exchange. In places it is possible to travel from the Pacific Ocean to the Amazon jungle in less than 200 kilometers (125 miles), and this juxtaposition of regions led early on to longdistance exchange of products among regions. These links were especially important in the Andes, one of the most environmentally unstable regions in the world. Prone to earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, landslides, and, more rarely, tidal waves, Peru is most fre-

quently destabilized by El Niño and La Niña, climatic disturbances that devastate marine life and play havoc with precipitation patterns, causing torrential rainfall on the coast and droughts in the highlands. With resource zones scattered and prone to periodic failure, long-distance relationships were critical for daily subsistence and also provided a safety net when disaster struck in one locale. Wari was preceded in this dramatic, turbulent, and varied landscape by many complex societies, the first of which took root on the coast between about 3000 and 1800 BC, when the first ceremonial centers appeared on the coast and in the highlands. (The history of simpler human groups in the Americas goes back at least 13,000 years, when hunters followed big game out of Siberia.) Thereafter, major developments alternated regularly between the coast and the highlands, focusing first on one and then the other. Only during periods of highland dominance, known as “horizons,” were the geographic regions drawn together in some way, first by the Chavín people during the Early Horizon (1000 BC–AD 1), then by the Wari and their powerful neighbors the Tiwanaku (also spelled “Tiahuanaco”; 600–1000),

Figure 3. Sierra landscape with modern agricultural fields, Colca Valley, Peru. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

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T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 4. Dunes in the Ica Valley on the southern reaches of Peru’s western coast. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

and finally by the Inca of the Late Horizon (1400–1532) whose empire, which expanded to control most of the Andean world, fell to Spanish forces after 1532. A History of Wari Scholarship archaeological research . The history of Wari investigation, both art historical and archaeological, is tightly bound up with Tiwanaku, the contemporary state-level society whose large capital, replete with finely cut, monumental stone sculpture, is near the shores of Lake Titicaca on the altiplano (high plateau) of modern Bolivia.7 Wari and Tiwanaku art and architecture are very distinct in most respects, but curiously the two shared an iconography so crucial to the period that it functions as a signature: an imposing frontal figure, its head radiating a halo of appendages, who is often flanked by winged acolytes shown in profile and with features ranging from human to fusions of the human and animal. All clutch staffs, a potent Andean symbol of authority (figs. 1, 5, 6). The appendages, the animal features (which often include a fanged mouth), and a divided eye seem to mark these creatures as supernatural beings—a powerful “staff deity” and its minions.8

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Early investigators noted the presence of this imagery at a great many coastal sites in Peru and, faced with the question of its source, pinpointed the Tiwanaku capital. The site had been famous since the Inca and Spanish colonial periods in part because of its theatrical sculpture, which prominently features the divine imagery and was well known by the latter half of the nineteenth century.9 Thus, they applied the name “Coast Tiwanaku” to the Peruvian style, although they recognized that Peruvian and Bolivian manifestations of the imagery differ in several important ways and some speculated that an unknown, more northern center had been involved in dispersing the Peruvian version of the style. In 1931, Julio C. Tello, the most famous Peruvian archaeologist of his era, discovered that northern source during a vacation reconnaissance trip to Ayacucho. The then-grueling trip from the coast into the mountains was unusual (most archaeologists of the period focused their attention on the coast), and it was stimulated by Tello’s lifelong interest in demonstrating the importance of the sierra and the eastern jungle in ancient Peruvian history.10 Once he reached Ayacucho, locals directed him to the Wari site where he found ceramics

Figure 5a. Staff deities on the interior of an urn from Pacheco (for complete object, see fig. 1). Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, S/C. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 5b. Staff deities on the interior of an urn from Pacheco. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.0/5314. Drawing: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, Division of Anthropology.

that closely matched the Coast Tiwanaku style in association with some of the city’s most impressive buildings. The question of how the site fit within the grand scheme of Peruvian antiquity preoccupied Tello for the next ten years, and in 1942 he suggested that Wari was both the source of the Coast Tiwanaku style and the capital of a newly christened Wari civilization.11 Unfortunately, Tello was unable to publish the results of his Wari excavations

9

before his untimely death in 1947, but the potential significance of his discovery was not lost on his peers.12 In “considerable confusion” over Tello’s few published notes about his breakthrough, a trio of young North American archaeologists—John Rowe, Donald Collier, and Gordon Willey—visited Wari during a jeep trip across the Peruvian sierra in 1946. After spending only an hour or so at the site, they came away

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

convinced that Ayacucho was “one of the key areas in the development of Andean Civilization” and that the city, which sprawls over more than 200 hectares (500 acres), would take “months to explore in its entirety.”13 They were particularly struck by similarities between the architecture in one of the city’s sectors and that of Viracochapampa and Pikillacta, massive centers at opposite ends of the Peruvian sierra with high walls, few entrances, and groups of small rooms with raised doorways that they thought may have served as storage facilities (see fig. 40). Although their article on the site was largely dedicated to a preliminary classification of its ceramics and sculpture, it is tempting to imagine the excited conversations that took place in the jeep as the three men speculated on the city and its art style, colonies, and relationship to Tiwanaku. If this city was indeed the source of the “Coast Tiwanaku”

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style, what was the relationship between it and all of those places in Peru where the style had been found? In other words, how did Wari relate to the spread of Wari art? If all of these sites were built by the same people, what purpose did they serve? Wari was the last big piece to be found in the puzzle of ancient Andean history, and how it fit in was to become one of the field’s most hotly debated topics. With a source site finally defined, scholars began to place Wari within a master Andean chronology, a project abetted by Willard Libby’s revolutionary work with radiocarbon dating. In the 1950s, John Rowe began a series of coastal excavations designed to link broad cultural phases with radiocarbon dates; in 1962 he published a chronology that applied the term “Middle Horizon” to the period of widespread Wari influence. His student Dorothy Menzel soon followed with monumental studies that sorted Wari and Wari-influenced

ceramics into a number of regional styles and assigned the styles to temporal phases or epochs; Wari’s apogee occurred during the first two of these epochs, known as Middle Horizon Epochs 1 and 2, both of which Menzel further divided into A and B subphases.14 Rowe then linked Menzel’s stylistic phases to a series of radiocarbon dates running from about 600 to 1000.15 With minor revisions,16 Rowe’s and Menzel’s chronologies remain widely used today. This work on chronology was a crucial step forward but scholars had done little to relate the Wari capital to the spread of its art style. Researchers over the last half-century have attempted to explain the development of the Wari civilization by focusing on three main areas. The first is the Wari capital and the surrounding Ayacucho Valley. In work since the 1950s but particularly during the 1960s, archaeologists who worked at Wari itself—Mario Benavides Calle, Wendell Bennett, Enrique Bragayrac Dávila, William H. Isbell, and Luis G. Lumbreras, among others17—have confirmed the size and splendor of the city, which boasted as many as 40,000 inhabitants and contained wealthy neighborhoods, monumental ceremonial architecture,

and now-looted megalithic tombs that were probably the resting places of Wari royalty. The city abounded in exotic materials, such as ritually charged Spondylus shell from Ecuador, and many kinds of specialists (ceramists, sculptors, weavers, metalworkers, and others) transformed these materials into highly valued works of art. Research in the surrounding valleys demonstrated that as villagers moved into the city the Wari converted the countryside into a breadbasket: urban officials directed the construction of elaborate irrigation and field systems, and created administrative compounds to organize the agricultural surplus needed to feed the growing metropolis.18 The Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) guerrilla movement disrupted archaeological work throughout Ayacucho from 1980 to 1992, including at the Wari capital. When work resumed, it concentrated on reconstructing the lives of those who lived in the area during the Middle Horizon, for example, the quotidian affairs of farmers and the mortuary customs that continued despite the great changes sweeping the Ayacucho Valley.19 Most ambitious was the project focused between 1999 and 2003 on Conchopata, the largest Middle Horizon site in Ayacucho aside from the Wari capital itself.20

Figure 6a. The Gateway of the Sun at Tiwanaku. Photo: Fernando Sánchez. Figure 6b. Drawing of the central portion of the lintel of the Gateway of the Sun, which is carved with the image of the staff deity and its profile winged attendants. After Donnan 1992, 83, fig. 150.

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T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 7. Wari warriors wearing tapestry-woven tunics, from an urn recovered at Conchopata. The tunics are decorated with profile-face and steppedfret motifs. See also fig. 10. After Seville 2001, 200, 203; drawings: José A. Ochatoma Paravicino.

10 centimeters

Previous excavations had shown that it was an important ceramic production center,21 but the more recent excavations also found surprising wealth at the site in terms of architectural elaboration and sumptuary goods.22 Excavators were particularly struck by the militaristic iconography found on some of the pottery (fig. 7), a theme underlined by the discovery of a cache of trophy heads made from the skulls of children born outside of Ayacucho.23 The second issue that has drawn archaeologists’ attention is provincial sites with Wari style architecture of which more than two dozen had been tentatively or definitely identified by the end of the 1990s.24 Among the latter are Viracochapampa, a site in the northern highlands that Wari abandoned unfinished,25

Figure 8. Site plans of two reported Wari outposts that have proved to be local, non-Wari settlements. Plans: Justin Jennings.

along with Pikillacta, Jincamocco, and Cerro Baúl, all also in the highlands but to the south of the capital. Extensive surveys and excavations at these three southern sites have revealed the footprint of Wari colonization and prove that at least in some places Wari settlers founded impressive centers from which they administered the affairs of local populations.26 In other cases, however, suspected Wari affiliations have not proved true (fig. 8).27 Some, for example, were occupied much later,28 and excavations at others revealed that they had been built and occupied not by the Wari but by locals.29 There are also many places in Peru where Wari or Wari-influenced artifacts are plentiful but its provincial settlements are absent. Among them is the Chicha-Soras Valley

CLI

Chuquibamba Valley

FF F AC E

Achachiwa

Numero 8, Sector C

12

10 centimeters

N

10 meters

S usan E . Bergh and J ustin J ennings

Colca Valley

N

100 meters

Figure 9. A long-haired suri alpaca. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

in the central highlands, which the Wari may have administered indirectly in order to gain access to and maximize the area’s valuable production of llama and alpaca fiber, some of it no doubt put to use in the making of the fine textiles in which the Wari specialized (figs. 2, 9).30 The same kind of indirect control has been suggested for other regions.31 Wari artifacts also seem to have come into some places as trade goods;32 in still others, they are rare or absent altogether.33 How can this variable distribution of Wari style architecture and artifacts be explained? Early on, Menzel,34 Lumbreras,35 and others embraced the notion of empire; this view was corroborated as fieldwork in the 1970s and 1980s made it clear that the capital city had both transformed the surrounding valleys and established a number of settlements throughout Peru. The empire model, however, was not fully articulated until Katharina Schreiber published Wari Imperialism in Middle Hori-

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zon Peru in 1992. She suggested that the Wari established a “mosaic of control”: they conquered much of Peru and built administrative centers in some regions in order to establish direct control, but elsewhere they manipulated groups through local leaders36 or left locales completely unmolested.37 Schreiber noted that Wari’s varied impact through space and time was in keeping with the ways in which other empires adapted their strategies to locally varying conditions. The marked variability in Wari’s archaeological footprint has for many years fostered resistance to the empire interpretation in some scholarly quarters,38 but few viable alternative models have so far been offered. Richard Schaedel, for example, proposed vague “vectors” of cultural transformation to explain the distribution of Middle Horizon styles,39 while Ruth Shady Solís’s counter-model ignored the evidence for provincial sites and suggested that Wari was only one of many equally

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 10 [118]. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 110.5 x 118.1 cm. Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, Mary B. Jackson Fund and Edgar J. Lownes Fund, 40.007. Photo: Erik Gould, courtesy Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design.

Figure 11 [147]. Fourcornered hat with mythical creature; camelid fiber; 14 x 12 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 58-20-233 (NM 223).

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important cities that exchanged goods and ideas during the period.40 More recent models have attempted to downplay Wari’s dominance while acknowledging the pivotal role that the capital city had in the surging interregional interactions of the Middle Horizon.41 The third topic that has captured research attention remains one of the most vexing in ancient Andean studies: the Wari-Tiwanaku relationship. As mentioned above, the two cultures shared essential iconography—the staff deity and its winged acolytes, along with tapestry-woven tunics and four-cornered hats (figs. 10, 11). But they did not engage in other types of exchange, even along their frontiers in far southern Peru. For instance, in the Moquegua Valley, the only region where their occupations overlapped, there is little evidence of interaction until the very end of the Middle Horizon.42 Also, the Wari inhabitants of Huaro and Pikillacta, two other frontier towns near Cuzco, seem to have been disin-

S usan E . Bergh and J ustin J ennings

terested in nearby Tiwanaku communities.43 Thus, although the two cultures’ chronologies cannot be correlated in any tight way and the origin of the staff deity iconography is still a matter of debate, few experts doubt that Wari and Tiwanaku were independent polities with distinct territorial spheres of operation and influence. Certainly their approaches to architecture, art, site planning, and public ceremonial life were radically different. For example, Tiwa­ naku architects excelled in the use of exquisite, precisely cut stone masonry, which they used to face massive mounds and sunken courts, while the Wari built grand, highwalled compounds with roughly dressed stone and copious mortar (see fig. 39). In art the Wari showed little interest in inscribing the staff deity and its companions on monumental stone gateways and sculpture, a hallmark of Tiwanaku artistic production (fig. 6), and instead transferred it to small, finely made,

Figure 12 [91]. Three plumes with staff deity head, from Pomacanchi; silvered copper; 34.8 x 10 cm, 40 x 13.8 cm, 36.6 x 12 cm. Princeton University Art Museum, Gift of Leonard H. Bernheim Jr., Class of 1959, 1982-27, 1982-29, 1982-28. Photo: Bruce M. White.

portable arts—textiles, ceramic vessels of various kinds, personal ornaments of precious materials, and sculptured objects that nestle in the hand (figs. 12–16). Further, while the spacious Tiwanaku capital seems designed to accommodate crowds of pilgrims, the planning of Wari sites limits public gathering and ritual movement to a remarkable degree. These phenomena imply that Wari did not rely on a centripetal strategy of drawing people into its centers to witness great civic spectacles honoring the staff deity and its winged attendants, who perhaps stood as an idealized metaphor for Wari rulers and society. Rather, the Wari sent the image of the deity out from its highland capital into far-flung territories on objects and textiles.44 art history’s neglected role .

In numbers of studies and the breadth of their collective focus, the exploration of Wari arts, and of ancient Andean arts in general, has lagged

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behind archaeological investigation and today remains nascent. The complex suite of reasons for this disparity has its origins in the attitudes and rationales of the colonial period.45 Among those factors that continue to have impact today is the lack of indigenous writing. Although Andean people developed the khipu, a fiber mnemonic device used to record and recall numerically enciphered information (see fig. 180 and [155], p. 276), they are unique in the world in having created great civilizations without the aid of true writing systems.46 But this remarkable fact seems to have been prejudicial to study rather than encouraging it, despite the implication that the arts played an enhanced role in communication. The paucity of information about the arts in Spanish colonial documents compounds the problem. Also, the objects and media that the Wari and many other ancient Andeans emphasized— not paintings or monumental stone sculpture but intricate garments of camelid fiber and

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 13a [165]. Cup with staff-bearing creatures in profile; wood; 11.4 x 6.4 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Purchase, Nelson A Rockefeller Gift, 1978.412.214. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY. Figure 13b. The drawing shows the two different types of figures on the cup. After Lapiner 1976, 246, fig. 569.

cotton, useful clay or wood containers, precious personal ornaments today classified as jewelry, and others (figs. 10–18)—lie outside modern Western definitions of fine art, falling instead under the rubrics of decorative art or craft, which hold inferior rank in Western artistic hierarchies because we pejoratively affiliate them with skilled hand labor and the mastery of materials rather than with genius and originality of intellectual conception.47 As one contemporary art critic revealingly com-

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mented in this regard, “hands cannot contemplate.”48 (The West has often associated craft and the decorative with the racialized other, such as Amerindians, as well as with femininity.49) The small scale of Andean objects has also worked against them, particularly in the modern museum settings that are now their main venue but distance them behind glass in spacious, high-ceilinged galleries that often overwhelm them. Their subject matter too is a barrier, for while their flashy beauty invites

Figure 14 [56]. The head of the staff deity appears at the rounded ends and winged attendants appear on the sides of this vessel. Container with staff deity head and profile winged creatures; ceramic and slip; 16.6 x 16.9 x 21.8 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Norman O. Stone and Ella A. Stone Memorial Fund 1999.2.

and beguiles, these objects present no obvious heroic or dramatic narrative in the manner of many other ancient arts, such as those of Greece, Rome, Egypt, the Near East, and even Mesoamerica. Esther Pasztory has recently addressed these and other factors—in James Clifford’s words, the “powerful discriminations made at particular moments”—that have affected the reception of Andean arts in the modern West.50 By taking the objects on their own terms or at least on terms closer to their own, she sees their potential to challenge our expectations and broaden our ideas about art and about ancient thought and capacity. For in Andean hands the things that the West regards as minor became major arts invested with intellectual originality that informs not only subject, style, color, and composition but also manufacture and structure, which ancient peoples seem to have endowed with meanings that are unfamiliar in the West and, in partial consequence, still faintly understood.51 In other words, Andean arts level the distinction between fine art and craft, assimilating them into one and making the categories irrelevant. Indeed, ancient Andean languages seem to have had no words

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for “art” and “craft,” which are conceptual inventions of the Italian Renaissance.52 One crucial implication of Pasztory’s approach is that Wari arts must be imagined in the smallscale contexts in which they were used: worn, carried, manipulated, and touched; animated by speeches, poetry, song, and conversation; examined, admired, and surely critiqued in lively ways. She believes that the insistence on the personal and intimate reflects a cultural ideal that emphasized face-to-face contact and interaction,53 which allowed participants to build networks of friendly or grudging alliance based on the mutual obligation and reciprocity that were likely major elements of Wari statecraft. Of all the categories of Wari art production, tapestry-woven tunics (shirts), the raiment of Wari rulers and other elites, have received the lion’s share of scholarly attention (figs. 10, 15). Several factors likely account for this focus, among them that, by the mid-1900s, scholars recognized that the tunics were a hallmark of the period and that fiber was a key Andean artistic medium, a point John Murra affirmed resoundingly in his milestone study of the economic, political, social, and religious importance of cloth among the Inca.54 Also,

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 15 [115]. Tunic with sacrificer-related creature; camelid fiber and cotton; 105.4 x 114 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.496. Image: © Dumbarton Oaks, Pre-Columbian Collection, Washington, DC.

the tunics are by far the largest, most compositionally complex, and most technically intricate objects that Wari artists created. As collecting increased feverishly during the twentieth century, tunics became plentifully available for study. Academic interest coincided with and in a general way may have been encouraged by the tide of enthusiasm for the tunics among collectors and nonspecialists. This appreciation

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stems in part from the parallels between a few of the tunics’ features and Western modernist painting, particularly a figural style that recalls Modernism’s geometric abstractions. For instance, seeing in the tunics’ “abstraction” the potential to “recall the esthetic problems of our time,” René d’Harnoncourt singled the tunics out for comment in his introduction to the catalogue for the Museum of Modern Art’s Ancient Arts of the Andes, a 1954 exhibition

Figure 16 [67]. Vessel with staff deity head; ceramic and slip; 21.4 x 16.6 x 11.2 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas Jr., X90.488. Photo: Don Cole.

stretched from side-to-side and the elements proximate to the tunic’s sides are compressed or narrowed. At its most extreme, this cerebral practice transforms motifs into barely legible, geometric stylizations that often require the help of an expert guide to decipher (fig. 15). Today, one such tunic is sometimes celebrated as an abstract masterpiece (see fig. 174); that the Wari might not agree is suggested by the fact that it incorporates less than half of the yarn—and the corresponding dyes, labor, time, and talent—as other tapestry-woven tunics (for example, see fig. 164). Sawyer termed his study a broad “sketch,” and he lamented the lack of more systematic investigation. In the years following the publication of his article, researchers have focused their attention on several basic aspects of this task, none more fundamental than determining under whose auspices the tunics were created since, aside from the staff deity and its attendants, nearly identical tapestry-woven tunics were one of the few other features that Wari and Tiwanaku shared.57 It was not until 1986 that Amy Oakland Rodman, building on the work of others, began to resolve the dilemma by identifying several differences in construction that distinguish Tiwanaku tapestry-woven tunics, which survive in far smaller numbers than their Wari counterparts.58 Since the 1980s a much larger sample of Wari tunics has been published, providing much-needed illustrations and descriptions of both regularities and variations in artistic and technical traits.59 During the same period, a small corps of art historians and textile specialists—including Susan E. Bergh, the early pioneer William Conklin, Mary Frame, Ann Pollard Rowe, and Rebecca Stone60 —have offered important studies focused on the tunics’ complex color and on distortion, a feature that continues to fascinate, as well as analyses of iconography and patterns of different kinds, at least some perhaps rooted in mathematical concerns. In art historical terms Wari ceramics have received less attention. As mentioned above the most extensive studies, conducted in the 1960s by Lumbreras and especially Menzel, applied themselves to the fundamental task of synthesizing a broad chronology for Wari

Figure 17 [133]. Overleaf, Tunic; camelid fiber; 83.8 x 121.9 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Arthur M. Bullowa, 1980, 1980.564.2. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

important for the fine-arts imprimatur that it gave to material before regarded mainly as the domain of anthropology or natural history museums.55 The comparison to Modernism may be promoted by the size and square shape of the tunics, which resemble easel paintings when mounted flat and within frames (a method of display that many collectors today prefer), as well as a compositional structure based on a grid, which has been termed emblematic of the modernist ambition in the visual arts.56 Against this background, it is fitting that the first major art historical study devoted to any Wari art form concerned the tunics and their “abstraction.” Written in 1963 by Alan Sawyer, then director of the Textile Museum in Washington, DC, this splendid, articlelength analysis (which “mis-attributed” Wari tunics to Tiwanaku during a period of shifting understanding) briefly summarized the tunics’ highly standardized features. The article then turned to the description of an equally rulebound convention for distorting form that is based on the lateral manipulation of proportions: the parts of each motif closest to the garment’s center are elastically expanded or

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T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Figure 18 [157]. Bag with human face; alpaca or llama hide, human hair, pigment, cotton, coca leaf contents; H. 26 cm (bag), L. 64.7 cm (strap). The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund 2011.35.

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based on changes in ceramics, which are the most ubiquitous, durable, and diagnostic of Wari artifact types.61 In terms of artistic treatment, ceramic manifestations of the staff deity and its attendants (figs. 1, 14, 16) have been a focus, especially from the perspective of their origins in earlier art styles, such as Chavín of the Peruvian highlands and Pucara of the Lake Titicaca area, and from the viewpoint of their synthesis by the Wari into a new iconography of power that perhaps served as a model for centralized hierarchy in the human realm.62 The healthy thrust of many of these studies has been to challenge the historical tendency to view Tiwanaku as the source of the divine imagery—a proposition that awaits concrete proof. As a provocative and hypothetical alternative, William Isbell and Patricia J. Knobloch have proposed recently that the imagery developed as a result of early interaction across a wide sphere of the southern Andes and appeared simultaneously at Tiwanaku and Wari.63 Krzysztof Makowski Hanula makes an equally unorthodox suggestion: that depictions of the frontal deity portray not a single supernatural being, as others have usually supposed, but instead represent many deities who, like the Christian saints, share such major features as haloed heads but vary in smaller attributes such as the ornamentation of belts or staffs.64 The idea is not altogether new—in 1964, Menzel suggested that male and female versions of the deity are depicted artistically (fig. 5) 65—and at a minimum it highlights how little we understand iconographic variation and its meanings. Wari images of the staff deity and its companions are most prominently featured on very large, finely made culinary vessels recovered from deposits of deliberately shattered ceramics, some of them enormous and extremely complex in the variety of imagery and vessel forms that they incorporate (figs. 1, 5). Some interpretation has been offered for motifs unrelated to the staff deity from a few of these deposits, although, because of the obvious handicap of reconstruction, the imagery and vessel forms of only one have been analyzed comprehensively.66 The meaning and purpose of the shattering, which may vary among the deposits, also awaits analysis.

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A final development worthy of note is a typology of Wari human representations, the first of its kind, which Patricia Knobloch continues to develop based on ceramics and other media.67 With scattered notable exceptions, other types of Wari arts have received no sustained, in-depth analysis, including textiles of various kinds such as tie-dyed cloth and featherwork (fig. 17), headgear,68 ornaments made of gold or silver or inlaid with colorful stone and shell (fig. 12), wood containers, and stone sculpture, both exquisitely carved figurines and a limited number of larger-scale figures from the Wari capital itself.69 In several of these categories, even the project of basic description and quantification has yet to be undertaken. The Structure of This Volume In the essays that follow, art historians and archaeologists, many with long-standing interests in the arts, present their insights, informed conjectures, and still-unanswered questions about Wari and the meanings and functions of its arts. The pair of essays that forms part one, “Interpreting a Cosmopolitan Andean Society,” sketch essential archaeological background for understanding the Wari phenomenon as it occurred in different areas of the Andes. Speaking from experience both within and outside of the Wari heartland, Katharina Schreiber outlines the case for the interpretation of Wari as an empire, a view that many of the authors in this volume endorse. By “empire” she means a political state that, starting in the mid-eighth century AD, rapidly expanded beyond its regional borders in Ayacucho to take control of a very large territory that encompassed much of highland and coastal Peru as well as many groups of people of diverse ethnicities, cultures, languages, and social organization. As noted above, Wari’s archaeological footprint in these far-flung areas is uneven, ranging from simple remains of small-scale artifacts (ceramics and textiles) to enormous architectural installations, and she relates this variability to levels of control that fluctuated from region to region, depending upon Wari’s goals and the local situations to which it was responding. Standing “outside Wari walls,” Luis Jaime Castillo Butters provides a perspective on

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

Wari from the Peruvian north coast, a vantage point distant from the heartland where, during early Wari times, the Moche people were entering the final stages of their centuries-long life span. As Castillo Butters argues, Wari does not appear to have established an imperial presence on the north coast, but its impact nevertheless registered there, in part through fine Wari objects found in ritual contexts. He attributes the presence of these objects to the agency not of the Wari but of Moche elites who wanted to affiliate themselves with Wari’s prestige and parlayed this affiliation in their power strategies, and he asks whether analogous situations might have pertained to other places where Wari’s presence seems to have been lighter, such as the central coast and the northern highlands. The set of essays in part two, “Transforming the World,” describe and interpret the transformative impact that Wari had in many regions of the central Andes during its lifetime. Wari cannot be understood outside of its monumental centers and architecture, which it used to make its most public and overwhelming proclamations of power. These centers have received more modern attention than any other form of Wari material culture, and Gordon F. McEwan and Patrick Ryan Williams synthesize decades of research that of necessity has focused on provincial installations rather than the capital in Ayacucho, where political violence forced archaeological research to a near halt during the 1980s. Next they turn to the spread of agriculture and water infrastructures (terraces, canals, aqueducts) that accompanied Wari’s expansion and, in the wake of a millennial drought that preceded its rise, probably were key to its claim to mediate nature’s unpredictable and devastating whims. They conclude with an interpretation of the messages that Wari may have intended to convey through this built environment. Donna Nash explores the human contexts in which Wari strategies played out: the feasts and beer-drinking parties at which Wari elites certainly paraded many of the fine objects, ornaments, and garments in this catalogue. As Nash explains, these formal events were likely a major aspect of Wari statecraft, providing the social glue that bound the empire together

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by allowing Wari elites to forge essential connections with local leaders in many different areas and to negotiate official matters with them. While doing so, they may have positioned themselves as a pivot of human affairs through ritual hospitality and largesse. Anita G. Cook addresses the focus of Wari’s state religion: the staff deity, who in the past has been interpreted mainly as a symbol of power that affirmed the political and religious authority of Wari elites. While recognizing that the deity did communicate such messages across the ethnic and linguistic boundaries within Wari territory, she advances another reading based on indigenous cosmological beliefs, suggesting that the staff deity embodies an Andean concept of a cosmos sustained by balance, renewal, reciprocity, and cooperation. Thus, she implies, it is error to emphasize political meanings at the expense of the view that religious beliefs, evanescent and difficult to reconstruct, were sincerely held and compelling enough to find audiences in many different areas of the Andes. The arts abetted Wari’s efforts to transform the world by communicating messages not only about the encompassing power and the promise of its supernatural beings but about its leaders’ earthly might and wealth, encoded in virtuosic and materials-intensive textiles, the precious materials of inlaid ornaments, and other beautifully made objects. In the final section of part two, several authors discuss the categories of Wari objects that have most benefited from scholarly analysis, revealing what is known of their function and symbolic import. Patricia J. Knobloch and Mary Glowacki take on ceramics. Glowacki’s topic is the intriguing deposits of finely made vessels, many probably used to serve or drink the native corn beer chicha, that the ancients deliberately shattered in diverse contexts, including buried caches and the floors of important structures. Such pottery smashes are widely documented in Wari territory, and Glowacki believes they relate to an ancient effort to keep the world in balance through the offering of sacrifices and chicha to the ancestors, who were guarantors of water and fertility. Knobloch systematically reviews the Wari or Wari-influenced ceramic

styles, some included in the pottery smashes but also many others, that came into being over the four centuries of Wari’s life span. Using the ceramics to reconstruct a narrative of Wari’s development, she traces major iconographies in the ceramic arts from the early emergence of a collection of imaginative zoomorphic creatures that, she suggests, refer to constellations, the roughly concurrent appearance of the staff deity and distinctive human persona who might represent elite individuals or groups within the Wari hierarchy, and an uptick in the production of feasting vessels that she believes reflects increased feasting activity in the centuries before Wari’s decline. Susan Bergh’s discussion of tapestry-woven tunics reviews the major characteristics of these impressive garments: their iconography, which is often connected to the staff deity, along with their complex color, formats, and the distortion of form mentioned above. In an argument that relates to Anita Cook’s observations about the staff deity, she suggests that the features of many tunics are motivated by the Andean concept of dualism, the belief that the world comes into being through the interaction of two principles that must be balanced and harmonized. She further suggests that the tunics evince an interest in number systems and mathematics that may have given rise to the distortion so widely admired today for the figural abstraction that it produces. Other authors provide overviews of important Wari object types that have not yet received much systematic analysis. The most surprising among these lacunae are exuberantly colored and geometrically patterned tie-dyed garments, a well-known, important type of elite wear that involved a construction technique so demanding that it surprises even contemporary textile specialists. Ann Rowe describes the technique and, among other things, provides a more thorough typology of garment types, formats, and design principles than has before been available, a contribution that will serve as a touchstone for future investigation. With tie-dyed and tapestrywoven cloth, fabric covered with the brilliant feathers of tropical birds was likely one of the most prized of Wari textile types. Analysis is plagued by problems in cultural attribution

25

that owe to several factors, including the use of geometric motifs that are not culturally specific. Heidi King discusses several feathered works of confirmed Wari affiliation, making intriguing, important observations based on a fresh examination of the reported context of the most spectacular group yet recovered. Finally, Susan Bergh provides the first summaries of fine Wari personal ornaments and objects—ear ornaments, mirrors, pendants, and figurines inlaid with brightly colored mosaics of semi-precious materials along with ornaments made of metal—and of small, fine wood containers often carved in the image of a fearsome supernatural sacrificer. In the catalogue’s final section, “The Aftermath,” archaeologist William Isbell and art historian Margaret Young-Sánchez outline Wari’s legacy in the ancient Andes. While their focus is Wari, they broaden consideration to include Tiwanaku, for the two cultures developed together and shared a few aspects of material culture, tapestry-woven tunics among them, that are difficult to tease apart in terms of later influence. According to Isbell, one crucial element of Wari’s impact, achieved in concert with Tiwanaku, was to shift the Andean axis of political power and cultural complexity, before centered in northern coastal regions, to the southern highlands. In Wari’s realm, this accomplishment rested on improved agricultural and pastoral techniques as well as on transformations in the nature of governance. They then trace the potential arc of Wari’s afterlife in specific features of later Andean cultures, especially the Inca Empire. In the arts, this task is complicated by the turn of Inca textile and ceramic iconography away from the figurative and toward a visual vocabulary that focuses on spare, geometric motifs. Nevertheless, Young-Sánchez presents suggestive evidence of the importance of Wari precedents to critical Inca imperial symbols, both artistic and architectural. The Past and the Present Just sixty years ago, Wari re-emerged into history from beneath the thick overburden of topsoil, rubble, and prickly pear cactus that in the millennium since its decline had gradually obscured its achievement and its

T he H istory of I nquiry into the Wari and T heir A rts

legacy. In the ensuing decades, a handful of dedicated archaeologists and art historians, several of whom have lived in Ayacucho, have resurrected this once-unknown culture by tracking its influence and ambitious expansion over a challenging landscape, studying its architecture and impressive provincial centers, recuperating its broad chronology, and analyzing the corpus of startlingly beautiful artworks that it left behind in buried deposits, offerings, and the tombs of the honored dead. This work has succeeded in establishing Wari as a powerful Andean polity in its own right—in dialogue with but independent of its contemporary, Tiwanaku, from whose shadow it is stepping—and as a society that has much to contribute to our understanding of early human experiments with civilization. This contribution comes not only from archaeology but also from the arts, which fluster Western definitions of art and craft and thus hold the potential to add needed dimension to our ideas about the forms that human creative genius assumes and the intriguing, often unfamiliar ways in which people invest things with meaning. In recent years, the number of scholars with professional interests in Wari has increased and their work has brought to light exciting new archaeological discoveries that have refined the understanding of Wari and of

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the Middle Horizon. But much investigation remains to be undertaken in many parts of Wari territory, not least at the Wari capital city itself. The same is true, perhaps especially so, of Wari’s arts, important categories of which await systematic study and interpretation, which the present project hopes to encourage. The accuracy of future interpretation, both art historical and archaeological, hinges on the integrity of original archaeological context, which has too often been devastated by commercially motivated plundering, particularly during the mid-twentieth century, as well as by the increasing encroachment of modern development into archaeological sites—airports and housing projects in urban areas along with rural agricultural expansion. Wari: Lords of the Ancient Andes brings together some 170 objects and textiles from international collections that have harbored and cared for them since as early as the late nineteenth century. In all but a few instances, original archaeological context has been lost. This project is offered in the conviction that there is a world of information embedded in the objects themselves that with the help of comparative data from scientific excavations and the attention of sensitive analysts holds promise to illuminate the past and its rele­ vance to the present.

notes

1. Cieza de León [1553] 1984; Cook and Cook 1998; Pease 2008. 2. Cieza de León [1553] 1984, 249 [114]. This translation combines elements of those found in J. Rowe et al. 1950, 120; Schreiber 1992, 79. 3. Some suggest that, to avoid confusion, the spelling “Wari” be used to indicate the culture and “Huari” to refer to the ancient capital (see W. Isbell 2002, 457). This volume employs a single spelling in the hope that context and wording will make the reference clear. 4. See Seville 2001 for the first exhibition catalogue. 5. Pasztory 1984. 6. This idea surfaced during the meeting of an NEH-funded advisory committee for the exhibition in October 2010. 7. For example, Young-Sánchez 2004d. 8. Lyon 1978, 96–97. 9. See Angrand 1866; D’Orbigny 1839; Squier 1877 for early illustrations of Tiwanaku sculpture; DeHavenon 2009 provides a survey of early literature on Tiwanaku and its monuments. 10. Tello [1931] 1970, 520. 11. Tello 1942, 682–84. 12. Bennett 1946; Larco Hoyle 1948; Schaedel 1948. 13. J. Rowe et al. 1950, 120, 122, 136. 14. Menzel 1977; Menzel 1968; Menzel 1964. 15. J. Rowe 1967. 16. Knobloch 1976. 17. Benavides Calle 1991; Benavides Calle 1984; Bennett 1953; Bragayrac Dávila 1991; W. Isbell 2009; W. Isbell 1991; Lumbreras 1974a; Lumbreras 1960. 18. For instance, Anders 1991; W. Isbell 1985; W. Isbell 1977b; W. Isbell and Schreiber 1978. 19. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001; Valdez et al. 2006; Valdez et al. 2002. 20. For instance, Cook and Benco 2001; W. Isbell 2002; W. Isbell and Cook 2002; Ochatoma Paravicino 2007; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001. 21. Pozzi-Escot 1991. 22. W. Isbell 2006. 23. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002; Tung and Knudson 2008. 24. See lists in Jennings and Craig 2001; Schreiber 1992.

25. J. Topic 1991. 26. McEwan 1996; McEwan 1991; McEwan 1987; McEwan 1984a; Schreiber 1992; Schreiber 1978. 27. Jennings 2006. 28. Jennings and Yépez Álvarez 2009. 29. Coleman-Goldstein 2010. 30. Meddens 1991; Meddens and Branch 2010. 31. For instance, Coleman-Goldstein 2010; Tung and Owen 2006. 32. For instance, Castillo Butters et al. 2008a; Lau 2006; Lau 2005; Marcone Flores 2010. 33. For instance, Grossman 1983; Hastorf 1993; Mackey 1982; Shimada 1985; Wilson 1988. 34. Menzel 1964. 35. Lumbreras 1974b. 36. See also W. Isbell and Schreiber 1978. 37. See also Schreiber 2005a; Schreiber 2005b; Schreiber 2001; Schreiber 1999. 38. See summaries in Glowacki 1996; W. Isbell and McEwan 1991a. 39. Schaedel 1993. 40. Shady Solís 1988; Shady Solís 1982. 41. Jennings 2011; Jennings 2010a; Owen 2010; T. Topic and J. Topic 2010a. 42. Moseley et al. 2005; Moseley et al. 1991; Williams 2001; Williams and Isla Cuadrado 2002; Williams and Nash 2002. 43. Glowacki 2002; Glowacki and McEwan 2002. 44. Conklin 1991; Cook 1994; Cook 1983; W. Isbell and Vranich 2004; Morris and von Hagen 1993, 122–23; Schreiber 1992, 279–81. 45. See Braun 1993 for a more detailed treatment of the post­ colonial reception of Pre-Columbian arts in the West that focuses on Mesoamerica. 46. For the khipu, see, for example, Ascher and Ascher 1981; Urton 2003a. 47. For instance, Auther 2004; Whittick 1984. 48. Mays 1985–86, 8. 49. Auther 2004, 341. 50. Clifford 1988; Pasztory 2010. 51. See, for example, Frame 1986 and Lechtman 1979 for the meaning of structure in ancient Andean metalwork and textiles, respectively. 52. See Paternosto 1996, especially 5–8.

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53. Pasztory 2010, especially chap. 5. 54. Murra 1962. 55. D’Harnoncourt 1954, 13. D’Harnoncourt attributed Wari tunics to Tiwanaku; subsequent scholarship has corrected the attribution. 56. Krauss 1979, 50. 57. The third is four-cornered hats (e.g., fig. 11). 58. Oakland 1986a; Oakland 1986b, 31–41, 230–31. See also Rodman and Cassman 1995; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001. Contributors to the effort were Bird and Skinner (1974); Conklin (1983, 1970); A. Rowe (1979). 59. Two dissertations pulled together large samples based primarily on museum collections (Bergh 1999 and Stone 1987) and other publications described collections either in individual museums or from specific archaeological sites (among others, Angeles Falcón and Pozzi-Escot 2001; Conklin 1996; Eisleb and Strehlow 1985; Eisleb and Strehlow 1980; Prümers 1990; Ramos and Blasco 1977; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2005; A. Rowe 1986b). 60. Bergh forthcoming; Bergh 2009; Bergh 1999; Conklin 2004a; Conklin 1986; Conklin 1970; Frame forthcoming; Frame 2007; Frame 2005; Frame 2001; A. Rowe 1979; Stone 1987; Stone 1986; Stone-Miller 1992b. 61. Lumbreras 1974a; Lumbreras 1960; Menzel 1977; Menzel 1968; Menzel 1964. Recently, Matthew Edwards and Katharina Schreiber have put together a fully illustrated beta version of Menzel’s underillustrated 1964 ceramic chronology. 62. Cook 2001b; Cook 1994; Cook 1984–85; Cook 1983; W. Isbell 2008; W. Isbell 1988, 180–81; W. Isbell 1984–85; W. Isbell 1983; W. Isbell and Cook 1987. 63. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2006; see also W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009. 64. Makowski Hanula 2009; Makowski Hanula 2002. 65. Menzel 1977, 54; Menzel 1964, 19, 26; see also Lyon 1978, 108–13; Bergh 1999, 70n86. 66. Cook 2001b; Cook 1984–85; W. Isbell 2004b, 191; Knobloch 2000; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 1999; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002. 67. Knobloch 2010; Knobloch 2002. 68. But see Frame 1990 on fourcornered hats. 69. But see Cook 1992 on the figurines.

Interpreting a Cosmopolitan Andean Societ y

Katharina Schreiber

The Rise of an Andean Empire

Figure 19 [86]. Warrior plaque; silver; 25.7 x 19.7 x 2.5 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Gift of Alfred C. Glassell, Jr. 2001.1174.

The Wari Empire arose in the Huamanga or Ayacucho region of the central highlands of modern Peru. Its capital city, also known as Wari, sits at an elevation of 2,800 meters (9,200 feet) above sea level in the relatively open Ayacucho Basin. Wari emerged out of a period of intense interaction during the sixth and seventh centuries AD among a number of cultures located in different parts of the central Andean region. By the mid-eighth century the Wari had embarked on a campaign of expansion that was to bring most of Peru’s highlands along with its southern and central coastal regions under a single regime. The Wari ruled an enormous territory and had sovereignty over many diverse peoples, supporting their empire through the control of economic production and distribution, and legitimating their power through a state religion and the symbols associated with that religion. By the late eleventh century the empire had collapsed, leaving only scattered, ruined traces for today’s archaeologists to uncover. This remarkable achievement was unprecedented. Wari is known to archaeologists as a “pristine” empire. It came from a historical tradition that included no prior empires. The first of its kind in Andean South America, it had no antecedents, no predecessors, no examples from which to draw knowledge or inspiration. Thus, the Wari people created a form of governance that was completely new in the region. Rising within a physical context of great diversity, the Wari located their capital city within a maize-growing ecological zone. Residents would have had easy access to maize fields around the city, potato fields at higher elevations to the east, south, and west, and lower, warmer lands to the north where they

[129]. Overleaf, Bag; camelid fiber and cotton; 18.7 x 16.5 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1959.10.1.

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could grow fruits, other vegetables, and chili peppers. The empire expanded to include vast areas of the high Andes, encompassing many discrete valleys, each with its own system of vertically arranged ecological zones. These valleys were surrounded by high grassy plains, where vast herds of llamas and alpacas grazed. Further, the empire controlled large portions of the desert coast, where many crops including cotton could be grown in the irrigated fertile soils. The Cultural Context of the Wari Empire Humans have occupied the Andes for at least 12,000 years. By 2500 BC they were growing cotton on the coast of Peru, and construction of monumental platform mounds was under way on the north central coast of Peru. Archaeologists divide the last four millennia of Andean prehistory into six major segments: the Initial Period, followed by three Horizons (Early, Middle, and Late), which are separated by Intermediate Periods (Early and Late). Periods were times during which developments were regionally confined; during horizons, however, a single well-defined cultural style spread broadly through the Andes. The most obvious example of the latter is the Late Horizon, when the expansion of the Inca Empire distributed Inca-style material culture from Ecuador to Argentina. During the Initial Period (1800–1000 BC), most people began to live in villages and derive their subsistence from domesticated plants and animals. On the central and north coasts of Peru people built massive platform mounds and pyramids, evidence of a rich ceremonial life. During the Early Horizon (1000 BC–AD 1), a great temple and important pilgrimage center emerged at Chavín de

Huántar.1 This was the first time that a single cultural tradition transcended local boundaries and provided unifying elements for multiple cultures. There is no indication that Chavín influence had any political component; rather, the site was the center of a shared belief system. Chavín influence ceased around 500 BC, at which time several regional cultures began to emerge. They coalesced in the Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600) and included the north coast Moche, perhaps the first statelevel society in the Andes, the Lima culture of the central coast, and the Nasca on the south coast. The Nasca produced some of the most spectacular ceramic and textile art of the ancient world, and there were strong links between them and the later Wari. Regional highland cultures of this period include Cajamarca in the far north of Peru, known for its ceramics made of fine white clay, and the Recuay culture, which occupied the deep valley called the Callejón de Huaylas. The Ayacucho Basin was replete with settlements of the Huarpa culture, the direct ancestor of the Wari. To the south in the Lake Titicaca Basin, Pucara of the northern basin and Tiwanaku of the southern basin were important religious centers; the latter would grow into an important political center as well. The Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000) was the period of the expansion of the Wari Empire and the time during which Tiwanaku was also the capital of a major polity to the south. Wari and Tiwanaku shared distinctive elements of religious and political iconography, and perhaps some common antecedents. But the two were quite different. Tiwanaku was a major pilgrimage center, open and welcoming to large numbers of people; Wari and its provincial sites were built of high walls designed to keep people out. Tiwanaku iconography was seen by the people at the capital, carved on immovable stone monuments; Wari’s iconography of power was depicted on portable media such as textiles and ceramics that could be taken to the people. Tiwanaku held dominion over much of the Titicaca Basin and established colonies in several far-flung regions where crops could be grown that were not available in the high wind-swept plains of

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the altiplano; Wari had more imperial intentions, establishing political and economic control over much of the central Andes. After both polities collapsed, distinctive regional cultures appeared once again during the Late Intermediate Period (1000–1400). All were conquered by the Inca in the Late Horizon (1400–1532). The indigenous Andean culture sequence came to an end with the arrival of Francisco Pizarro and his band of men, who captured the Inca emperor and toppled the Inca Empire. For centuries during the Early Intermediate Period the distinctive regional cultures of the Andes developed and grew with minimal interaction. Times were good: populations swelled, agricultural systems expanded, artists created ever more beautiful objects. But in the sixth and seventh centuries, during the final generations of the period, something changed. The climate deteriorated and periods of prolonged severe drought in the mountains affected irrigation systems on the desert coast, which depended on rivers with headwaters in the highlands.2 Warfare and violence seem to have heightened. There was also sudden increased contact among the different regional groups. Moche potters included Recuay designs on their ceramics; Nasca potters did likewise with Moche images; Nasca designs and pigments began to appear on Huarpa pottery in Ayacucho. More than ideas were moving from one place to another; people were also moving, as conditions forced the abandonment of some places. As the Early Intermediate Period drew to a close most of the regional cultures collapsed or were diminished in some way. Wari, however, transformed. Out of the villages and towns of the Huarpa culture the great capital city coalesced, and on it centered a state that would expand its control into the territories of most of the former regional cultures, and into the lives of their diverse peoples. What Is an Empire? Before considering the specific case of Wari, it is useful to define just what empires are and how they work. Put simply, empires are political states that expand beyond regional borders—usually rapidly, using military force

as well as diplomacy—to take control of very large territories and many groups of people, ranging from tribal-level societies to complex (often competing) states. Thus, empires are physically diverse, incorporating regions that may be very different in environment and ecology, and they are ethnically eclectic, including people of many nations with different cultural practices and languages. In order to organize and maintain order in the face of unprecedented size and diversity, empires must develop centralized forms of control and institutions, which must have been a major challenge for a group such as the Wari, who had no prior examples on which to draw. The forms of imperial control can be divided into three general categories: political, economic, and ideological. Political control involves establishing a hierarchy that is centralized but reaches outward and connects all the disparate pieces of the empire, binding them together into a single structure. The capital city—usually established in the polity’s heartland, as Rome was—forms the capstone of the hierarchy, followed by imperial cities or administrative centers, located at strategic nodes throughout the empire. Within each conquered province, the empire may build administrative facilities, or it may rely on existing facilities if the local authorities are cooperative. Herein lies one of the greatest challenges facing an empire: every situation is different. Some newly conquered provinces have large well-organized political systems, while others are only loosely held together; some are cooperative, others are hostile; some are of great strategic importance or contain crucial resources, others are of marginal interest. In each case the empire must tailor its strategies individually to incorporate each new province. There is no “one size fits all” approach. At each point in the hierarchy of control are individuals who hold key offices: the king or emperor in the capital, regional governors in the major administrative centers, provincial overseers at the next level, and so on down the chain of command, which parallels or in many cases is the same as the military chain of command. Empires support themselves through various forms of economic control. Building and

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maintaining all the things an empire needs is expensive business, and an empire depends absolutely on a constant and reliable source of income. For the conquered this comes in the form of taxation or in more general terms tribute payments—money, produce, or labor. Nonpayment of tribute is punished harshly. It may be necessary for the empire to organize changes in the local economy to increase production of the things it values and needs. Empires may also establish control over key resources, such as precious metals or other valued minerals, wresting this control from conquered groups. By establishing a monopoly on the production of bronze, for example, artifacts of bronze become associated with the empire, increase in value, and enable the empire to manipulate and use them to maintain power. Furthermore, the production of particular kinds of art works, tightly controlled by the empire, can have a similar result. An example of this is the extremely fine cumbi cloth of the Inca, which included exceptional tapestry-woven textiles. Only the Inca emperor could wear cumbi garments, but he could make gifts of the cloth to other individuals, usually to cement political alliances (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”). Finally, ideological control is crucial although in some ways less tangible than aspects of political or economic control. In one form ideological control may be accomplished by imposing a state religion that brings the deities of the conquerors to the conquered and helps legitimate the new regime. In another form, which may cross-cut religion to a greater or lesser degree, the state ideology may be manifest in an iconography of power: symbols such as individuals holding staffs of sovereignty that make clear to all who view them that the new regime is right, powerful, and justified (see figs. 1, 5, 6). In early empires religious and political symbols may be one and the same. Political leaders take on deity-like characteristics and may even become deities upon their death. Other humans such as soldiers may take on nonhuman features such as wings or animal traits that make them appear to be supernatural beings. The blending of the natural and supernatural, the earthly and heavenly, provides the empire with divine jus-

Figure 20 [35]. Figure in a litter; ceramic and slip; 26.3 x 21.6 x 24.8 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund 1997.1.

tification and legitimization for its existence (and activities) on earth. Weaving together these forms of control are a number of threads, some of them physical and material. Clearly, one of the first things an empire must do after the initial conquest of a new province is take stock of what it has: territory, resources, and above all, people. It needs to take a census. Such a survey requires not only a numbering system but also a way to keep records. Virtually all historically known empires had systems of writing. Andean cultures did not, but they did develop a recordkeeping system.

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Political control and the resulting hierarchy require an extensive built infrastructure. The capital city is large, complex, and, aside from housing for thousands or tens of thousands of residents, may contain “classic” features of imperial art and architecture such as government buildings, royal palaces, major temples, and other types of monumental structures. Spread throughout the empire will be administrative centers and other government buildings, usually constructed in a style identified with the empire. Linking all these nodes together are road systems, some of the most famous ancient examples of which are associat-

Figure 22. View of the Wari capital taken from a nearby mountain, looking to the southwest. The entire plateau area, covered with green vegetation, is the architectural core of the city. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

ed with empires. As “all roads lead to Rome,” so do the roads of an empire converge on the capital city. Finally, the art associated with an empire plays a part, its iconography consisting of imposing deities and powerful humans, also rendered in recognizably imperial styles on exquisitely made ceramics, textiles, and sumptuary objects fashioned of noble metals or hard-to-obtain shells and precious stones (figs. 19, 20). All these things—the centers, monumental architecture, vast networks of roads, imperial styles, and fine art works made of costly materials—are visible symbols of not only the empire’s might but also its grandeur and magnificence. Typically scholars who study empires base their work on written documents produced by, or at least at the time of, the empire in question. Wari presents major challenges to archaeologists and art historians because it left no written records to aid in understanding its past.3 Nor are there eyewitness accounts of the Wari written by others, in contrast to the later Inca, who also had no writing system but about whom the Spanish conquistadors and those who followed them to the New World left many accounts. Yet the Andes were entirely unknown to the outside world in the first millennium AD. The only sources of information about Wari lie in material remains, ranging from city-sized archaeological sites to textiles and fragments of pottery, which like parts of a puzzle must be painstakingly reassembled in order to reconstruct a portrait of this early empire.

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Figure 21. The Wari capital as it currently appears, in ruins and heavily overgrown with cactus. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

Evidence of political hierarchy can be found in the existence of a capital city, administrative centers, and other government buildings constructed in the Wari imperial style, along with the remains of a road system tying these nodes together. We can glimpse imperial interference in local production and control of special resources. Imperial styles of ceramics, textiles, and other artifacts that spread throughout the Andes are strong testimony to the presence of the empire. The imagery depicted on those artifacts, the symbols of religion and power, give us a sense of Wari imperial ideology. What Was the Original Name of the Wari Empire? What the Wari called themselves or their empire we do not know—archaeologists and art historians use the term “Wari” because that is the modern name of the site that was its capital. At the time of the Spanish conquest, however, that ancient city was called “Vinaque.” 4 Could this have been the name of the capital, the people, or the empire in Wari times? Another possibility exists. A legend recorded in the sixteenth century about the Wari capital stated that it was built by a people who were bearded and white (see pp. 5–27, “The History of Inquiry into the Wari and Their Arts”). A similar legend was told about a Wari provincial center, Jincamocco; in this version the strangers were termed “Viracochas.”5 The Inca gave the name Viracocha to their creator deity, the god who brought civilization to the Andes. Does this name perhaps harken back to the earlier empire—Wari, which first brought this form of civilization to the Andes? Or does

Figure 23. Corner of the early sunken court that occurs beneath Middle Horizon walls in the Moraduchayoq sector of the Wari capital. Some of the floor stones have been removed, exposing even earlier walls and construction phases. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

Viracocha simply refer to any foreigner, as the term does today? Sadly, we cannot answer these questions with any degree of certainty. Today the Wari capital is in ruins and badly overgrown with cactus (fig. 21). The remains of large stone-walled buildings cover about 6 square kilometers (2.3 sq. miles)—the core of the site (fig. 22)—around which, in an area nearly as extensive, the ground is covered with broken bits of Wari styles of pottery and other artifacts. Although sporadic excavations at the site have taken place since the 1880s, very little has appeared in print about Wari.6 The settlement at Wari has a long history, even before the rise of the empire. Centuries earlier, a square sunken court of fine cut stone, 24 m (79 ft.) on a side, was built at the site (fig. 23). This significant religious structure tells us that the site was an important place very early on. During the Early Intermediate Period, the Huarpa people occupied Wari extensively, leaving behind many typical ceramics that have been exposed in deep excavations beneath Wari imperial levels. Most of what can be seen today at the site represents the Middle Horizon occupation of Wari: the period of imperial expansion (fig.

Figure 24. Satellite image of the Wari capital showing the diversity of visible architecture at the site. The distance from east to west is approximately that of the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol building. Modern roofs protect several of the archaeological monuments. The area of the detail appears in Figure 25. Image: Google Earth. © 2012 GeoEye; © 2012 Google; © 2012 Europa Technologies.

N

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24). The city is not only large but diverse. The architectural core includes ceremonial structures and perhaps some open plazas, but most of the site is characterized by substantial, carefully planned architecture of a particular and unique type: large rectangular compounds, each two or even three stories tall, divided into square units, much like a checkerboard; the squares contain a central open patio flanked by long narrow rooms, or galleries, that are sometimes two or three deep (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).7 The ground floors of these structures are now covered by centuries of soil accumulation, which gives the (mistaken) impression that these structures have no doorways, but of course they do—at ground level, now deeply buried. (When similar forms of architecture were first identified in the provinces, they were thought perhaps to be jails because it seemed so difficult to get into or out of them.) The great rectangular enclosures tend to stand alone when found in the provinces, but at the capital they have a more organic character. While there are many large subdivided compounds at Wari, they are more oriented to the landscape, and the spaces between them are

filled in with irregular forms that still attempt to conform to the basic patio-with-galleries plan. This style of architecture is ubiquitous at Wari, and it seems likely that most of these buildings were elite residences and state administrative buildings. One sector of the capital seems to have served more ceremonial functions. Along the western side of the site is a series of possible temples, tombs, and other religious buildings Figure 25. Detail of the Wari capital. Capilla Pata is at the upper left. Below (to the south), is Vegachayoq Moqo’s Templo Mayor, a large D-shaped structure, between long areas with modern roofing; a second D-shaped structure occurs to the upper right of that complex. Just below is Monjachayoq. Below that and to the right is Moraduchayoq, where the outlines of old excavations can be discerned. The Cheqo Wasi sector is at the lower right. Image: Google Earth. © 2012 GeoEye; © 2012 Google; © 2012 Europa Technologies.

(fig. 25). Near the northwest corner is Capilla Pata, a long, narrow, trapezoidal enclosure that in size and shape is unlike other structures at the site. South of it are two large D-shaped temples in the Vegachayoq Moqo sector, one of which, the Templo Mayor (Great Temple), has been excavated within the arms of a U-shaped mound; a high stone wall surrounds the complex (see fig. 46). The second large D-shaped temple, visible only in outline

Capilla Pata

D-shaped temple Vegachayoq Moqo

D-shaped temple

Monjachayoq

Moraduchayoq

Cheqo Wasi N

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plexity elsewhere in the realm. Its architecture is identical to the building forms found throughout the empire, with the distinction that it is more varied. Its architecture seems to have grown over time rather than being built all at once, as Wari provincial centers were, and it seems to have had large sectors or barrios dedicated to different functions, such as cere­monial rites and burials, elite or commoner residence, and so on. And the number and density of Wari style artifacts is simply astounding; at no other site in the empire does one find pure Wari styles so completely dominant (although provincial styles occasionally turn up). In the provinces, however, Wari style artifacts are always mixed with those of whatever local group had been conquered there. Figure 26. Stone slab structure in the Cheqo Wasi sector at the Wari capital. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

on aerial views, lies just to the northeast. Next in line are the subterranean tunnels and cutstone galleries of the Monjachayoq complex, whose function is unknown. But the careful attention paid to layout and construction indicates that they were very special places. A smaller D-shaped temple is located just west of Monjachayoq. A bit farther along to the south-southeast is the Moraduchayoq complex, location of the old sunken court, which was buried and covered with other buildings in the Middle Horizon, and immediately to the south-southeast are the stone slab chambers of Cheqo Wasi (fig. 26), thought to have been tombs, perhaps of the Wari kings. This sequence of features would thus appear to form the ceremonial sector of the site, as Enrique González Carré and Enrique Bragayrac Dávila suggest.8 The extensive distribution of artifacts and isolated structures surrounding the capital’s architectural core may simply be trash discarded from the center, or it may represent the remains of more perishable structures. If the lower classes lived here, they did not inhabit the large patio-and-gallery units but more humble abodes that have not survived. Future excavations may help solve some of these mysteries. There can be little doubt that the archaeological site of Wari was indeed the capital city of the empire: there is simply no settlement anything like it in terms of size and com-

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The Wari Heartland and Beyond Some very interesting things happened in the capital’s immediate hinterland as Wari rose to become an empire. Recalling that during the Early Intermediate Period the region was home to the Huarpa culture, archaeologists have identified dozens of sites with Huarpa ceramics in the region.9 Huarpa ceramics were generally painted with black geometric designs on a white slip, with occasional use of red paint as well.10 Toward the end of the Early Intermediate Period new colors and vessel shapes from the south coast Nasca style appeared in Huar­ pa ceramics, indicating an upswing in communication and perhaps even migrations of people between the two groups.11 The Huarpa also began to intensify agricultural production both by building terraces to conserve scarce rainfall and spring water (terraces prevent run-off and encourage deeper soil formation) and by constructing networks of irrigation canals and reservoirs to distribute water. They may have also developed ways to grow two or three crops per year at the lowest elevations.12 This process of agricultural intensification probably accelerated during Wari times in the Middle Horizon when the population of the heartland appears to have increased markedly. At the beginning of the Middle Horizon there was not only an abrupt transition in ceramics from the mundane Huarpa style to the beautifully made and decorated Wari styles, but also an apparent major reorgani-

zation of the people of the Ayacucho Basin. In Huarpa times small clusters of villages arranged around larger towns were spread throughout the basin. In the early Middle Horizon, Wari grew into a city and became the focal point for local settlements. In the later Middle Horizon the number of settlements in the basin was sharply reduced and the population of the hinterland dropped. What happened? Where did all the people go? It seems likely that most moved to town. The emptying of the rural hinterland around early cities is a common pattern that archaeologists have detected in other cases, such as Uruk in Mesopotamia, or Teotihuacán in Mexico. So far, data on the nature of agricultural production in the heartland are limited. The Wari built Azángaro in the northern, lower portion of the basin, where warmer-climate crops such as chili peppers could be grown (see fig. 45).13 This great rectangular enclosure included a large sector of structures that probably served as storehouses, suggesting state-controlled production and distribution of crops. Another much smaller Wari site, Jargampata, located just to the east of the Ayacucho Basin, may have served as a point to gather and store produce intended for the support of the capital city.14 Recent excavations at Conchopata, one of the major Wari sites in the Ayacucho Basin, have provided some interesting new data about the people of the Wari heartland. Conchopata was a second-tier settlement in the urban hierarchy and the home to both elite and commoner residents. The site includes domestic structures, some of them formally planned patio-and-gallery units and others of a more irregular layout, as well as several D-shaped temples (see fig. 70). Of the many tombs found at the site, at least eight different types can be distinguished that vary according to a person’s social status, age, and/or gender.15 A study of thirty-one “trophy” heads (human crania removed from their bodies, specially prepared, and displayed as trophies) found in a D-shaped temple at Conchopata shows that 42 percent have evidence of physical trauma; chemical analysis suggests that many of those individuals who lost their heads were foreigners.16 This evidence of a military component to

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Wari expansionism is also found in iconography at Conchopata and elsewhere (see fig. 7). Some of the best evidence for the existence of the Wari Empire comes from the remains of imperial infrastructure discovered in regions outside the Ayacucho Basin. Over time several very large rectangular enclosures of the distinctive architectural style we now associate with Wari were identified, and more are being discovered as archaeologists explore more remote regions of the Andes. These are most common in the Peruvian Andes, from Cajamarca in northern Peru to the Cuzco region in the southeast and Moquegua in the far south (see maps, pp. xiv, xv). Although provincial sites are less common on the coast, sites have been found in the Nasca region and elsewhere on the central and south coasts of Peru. If we use the distribution of provincial centers to estimate the size of the empire, Wari’s control of mountain territory reached 800 km (497 mi.) to the north of the capital, 525 km (326 mi.) to the south, and 275 km (171 mi.) to the east (to the region around Cuzco); it also stretched down to the central and south coast, 350 km (217 mi.) to the west and southwest. Thus the empire extended more than 1,300 km (807 mi.) along its north-south axis; its width varied from about 100 km (62 mi.) in the north, where it encompassed only the highlands, to some 400 km (248 mi.) in the south, where it spanned both highlands and coast. The total spatial extent of the empire could have been as much as 320,000 sq. km (124,000 sq. mi.). The large rectangular enclosures that constitute many provincial Wari sites are subdivided into square or rectangular units according to a rigid grid plan (e.g. Viracochapampa, Pikillacta, Azángaro, Jincamocco). The basic unit, as at Wari, is a central patio surrounded by long narrow galleries. A few sites are made up of free-standing patio-gallery units (e.g., Honco Pampa, Huaro). This architectural style is unique and unmistakable. Many of the provincial sites are associated with prehistoric roads, some of which the Inca later incorporated into their system of royal highways.17 In fact, some previously unknown Wari sites were discovered during investigation of the Inca roads.18

Figures 27a, 27b. Two views of Pataraya, a small Wari installation in the upper Nasca drainage on Peru’s south coast. Satellite image: Google Earth. © 2012 GeoEye; © 2012 Google; © 2012 Europa Technologies. Photo: Matthew Edwards.

These sites vary greatly in size, from a single patio unit (Jargampata) to huge rectangular enclosures, up to 800 m (2,600 ft.) on a side, as in the case of Pikillacta. The variation depends on the diversity of activities carried out in the center, the importance of the center and the region in which it lies, and perhaps the size of the region or population governed from that center. Some very small sites may have served very specific purposes, especially those associated with one of the larger Wari centers (see below). But most of the medium and large sites—Pikillacta, Cerro Baúl, Jincamocco, and others—served as regional administrative centers, nodes in the political hierarchy of the imperial ruling structure where a

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range of political, economic, and ceremonial activities occurred. Excavations of the larger provincial Wari sites have provided new lines of evidence about the kinds of activities that took place within them. These sites (or portions of them) served as elite residences, where Wari administrators, regional governors, or other officials lived. Some sectors were set aside for largescale food preparation, brewing beer, and feasting, as at Cerro Baúl (see pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). In some sites there is evidence for craft production, including ceramics and textiles. A few sites may have storage sectors. Ceremonial areas are also apparent, and both Viracochapampa and Pikillacta have large niched halls that perhaps served as places of ritual.19 Smaller special-purpose sites may be located to control the movement of people into and out of regions. Some are located along ancient roads and may have functioned in part as way stations, places to house travelers on official state business. They also may have served to organize the movement of resources from one place to another. For example, Pataraya, a recently excavated site in the upper Nasca Valley, was a small, four-patio enclosure located along a road that connected the coastal region with the mountains (figs. 27a, 27b).20 It included two patio units devoted to food preparation and domestic activities, one for ceremonial activities, and one that probably was the residence of the Wari administrator. The remains of large quantities of cotton in an external compound indicate that the fiber was being shipped from lower coastal regions, where it grows, to higher elevations, where it could be used in textile production. The remodeling of some provincial sites reveals that Wari needs and strategies changed over time; the Wari went into a region with one plan, which they then modified. For instance, Jincamocco expanded until it was several times its original size, indicating that the Wari ideas for this region had evolved and that a larger facility was needed.21 One possibility is that more space was required first to house laborers who were brought in to build terraces and then to store the maize grown on those terraces. Viracochapampa was neither

finished nor occupied,22 perhaps because it was no longer needed to fulfill the purpose for which it had been planned. Some sectors of Pikillacta were completed and occupied, but others were still unfinished when the site was abandoned.23 In the Sondondo Valley, 125 km (77 mi.) south of the capital, the Wari built Jincamocco, a medium-sized administrative center consisting of a rectangular enclosure subdivided into patio-gallery units, most of which were probably used for domestic activities (fig. 28).24 One large patio served as an area for food preparation and feasting, and a raised plat-

Figure 28. View of Jincamocco, a Wari installation in the Sondondo Valley near the Wari capital. The traces of the Wari enclosure and rectangular subdivisions within it can be seen in the outlines of modern fields in the center of the photograph. Remains of the Wari occupation extend outward to the edge of the agricultural terracing and to the modern town of Cabana, seen at the upper right. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

form, finely coated with white plaster and associated with finely made elite ceramics, had a ceremonial function. Substantial evidence for textile production at the site exists. The fact that Wari invested heavily to build this center suggests both that the region was important (probably because it was the halfway point on the journey to Nasca on the south coast) and that it did not have a pre-existing political authority and infrastructure that the Wari could use. In some areas in which Wari centers are present, regional survey data complement excavation. These data tell us where people were living before, during, and after the period of imperial occupation, and also reveal much

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about resources and their use at these times. For example, when the Wari moved into the Sondondo Valley to build Jincamocco, they forced most of the local people to abandon their villages and relocate to lower elevations. (They moved from about 3,600 to about 3,300 m [12,000 to 11,000 ft.].) At the same time, virtually all of the valley sides below 3,300 m were terraced, allowing the cultivation of maize in these high regions. Thus, the movement of people to lower elevations provided the labor to increase maize production An intensive archaeological survey of the entire valley discovered four more, much smaller, Wari imperial sites.25 One, located along a major ancient road, probably served to monitor access into the valley from the north and also to exploit a small obsidian source there. A second probably administered the north end of the valley. A third may have been a storage center as it was located adjacent to some of the most productive agricultural land in the valley. And the fourth was a ceremonial site with stone slab tombs, like those at Wari, and two small D-shaped temples. Several major roads lead into and out of the valley; portions of the Wari route leading directly to Jincamocco were later incorporated in the Inca system of royal roads.26 Thus, the Wari occupation of a single region could be quite complex, involving multiple centers that played diverse roles. But what about all the regions and valleys where we do not find Wari provincial sites? Were these also incorporated into the empire? While the presence of imperial infrastructure certainly indicates imperial control, the lack of infrastructure does not necessarily mean lack of control. Historians and archaeologists sometimes distinguish between “direct” and “indirect” imperial occupations,27 although there are many forms of rule that fall between these extremes.28 We can think of an empire as a mosaic, with different territories needing different levels of control, striking a balance between the needs of the empire and the preexisting cultural situation in each region. In more direct forms of control, the empire builds its own infrastructure—administrative centers, roads, and the like—because it needs facilities that do not already exist. The pres-

ence of imperial infrastructure tells us that a particular region was important to the empire but was probably not already politically centralized: there was no controlling authority that had established the infrastructure necessary to rule the region. So the empire had to step in and invest in constructing the facilities it required such as at Pikillacta, Cerro Baúl, Jincamocco, and others. In a region with a centralized authority already in place—and with it an existing infrastructure—an empire might need not to build completely new facilities. It can use what is already there. In these regions archaeologists will not find major architectural complexes in the style of the empire, instead encountering more subtle clues of imperial control such as changes in settlement locations as people were reorganized or moved around to serve imperial purposes, shifts in the production and distribution of local crops and resources, and modifications in diet or patterns of violence, which indicate disruptions in daily life caused by the presence of the empire. Or they may find only very small imperial sites, but not large administrative centers. This seems to be the case in the Wari occupation of the Nasca region; the local culture maintained a relatively complex political organization, and only a few very small Wari sites are found, mostly in peripheral zones. Wari Forms of Control This evidence of infrastructure spread throughout Peru provides a basic picture of Wari’s political system: a capital city, major administrative centers extending outward in all directions, and smaller special-function facilities placed where they were needed, all connected to one another by a system of roads. Such a scheme created the political hierarchy through which the empire controlled its subjects and collected and transmitted information from one part of the empire to another. The roads also served to move armed soldiers to wherever they were needed and allowed caravans of llamas carrying their burdens of goods to travel between the provinces and the capital. But what was the basis of economic support of the empire? How and in what form did

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Wari collect tribute? We have only indirect evidence to answer these questions, but can turn to the later Inca Empire for guidance. The Inca collected tribute in the form of labor, m’ita (literally “rotation” or “taking one’s turn”). We cannot know if the Wari also required subjects to labor on behalf of the empire, but it is obvious that people supplied vast amounts of labor to it. Thousands of workers would have been required to build each of the major administrative centers, the smaller centers, and the roads, all of which required continued maintenance. Wari economic control can also be seen in the reorganization of local agricultural production in many regions. In Moquegua, the agricultural zones around Cerro Baúl were modified and irrigation systems designed to increase agricultural production. In the Sondondo Valley most land below 3,300 m in elevation was remodeled with stone-faced terraces, and production of maize increased. Not only did such efforts require enormous amounts of labor, but planting and harvesting these new fields also required labor. The new crops produced, maize for the most part, were probably destined for imperial coffers. Chemical analysis of bones shows that the consumption of maize greatly increased during Wari times and that even llamas were eating it.29 Perhaps, as in the case of the later Inca, the Wari converted large quantities of maize into a fermented beer-like beverage, chicha, which was served to subjects during religious and state festivals. Wari may have controlled a number of major sources of important raw materials, including Quispisisa, the largest obsidian (volcanic glass) quarry in the Andes. Obsidian was one of the best materials available for making sharp knives and points for spears and arrows. In the Middle Horizon, the distribution of this distinctive type of obsidian was suddenly restricted to sites with Wari associations. The sources of other minerals, precious metals, and some imported shells may also have been under Wari’s exclusive control. For example, Wari sites contain bronze artifacts made of an alloy of copper and arsenic, derived from smelting an ore called enargite.30 There are a number of enargite sources in Wari territory, and Wari may have controlled one or more of them.

Figure 29. View of Cerro Baúl, which has a Wari site on the summit. Photo: Katharina Schreiber.

This evidence of organization and extensive political and economic control begs the question: How did the Wari keep records? Without a writing system, they must have had some system for keeping numerical records: census data, tribute payments, the contents of imperial stores, and so forth. The Inca used a device of knotted strings, the khipu, which was quite effective in keeping track of such things. While rare, khipu have been found in Middle Horizon contexts, suggesting that the Wari, too, used them for record keeping (see fig. 180; see also [155], p. 276).31 Evidence of Wari ideological control is apparent in the spread of its religious iconography, depicted on the ceramics and textiles that are found in all parts of the empire. More subtle, however, is evidence that the Wari also interfered with local ideologies as they insinuated themselves and their new forms of domination over conquered peoples. Not only did the Wari remake local political and economic landscapes, they also remade the local sacred landscapes. Cerro Baúl, a towering, sheer-sided mesa in the Moquegua Valley, is an obvious example of an impressive landform that even today is a sacred place; it was likely a sacred mountain to the local people when

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the Wari arrived on the scene (fig. 29). Despite the profound inconvenience of establishing an imperial occupation on its summit, they did just that, in large measure to make their mark on the local sacred landscape. Likewise in the Sondondo Valley, the Wari created a site, complete with D-shaped temples and stone slab tombs, that blocked access to a local shrine and sacred mountain. In this case they did not co-opt the local shrine, but they did change the way in which it was experienced.32 The Collapse of Wari Why do empires collapse? There are probably more answers to this question than there were empires. It is unlikely that a single factor explains Wari’s collapse, which seems to have occurred late in the eleventh century. Was Wari overextended? Was it trying to administer more territories than its institutions were able to handle? Like the shark that must keep swimming in order to live, must an empire keep expanding in order to survive? Did Wari’s existence depend on the continual availability of new regions, resources, and tribute payers to support what it already had? And when it ran out of places to conquer, did it collapse? Perhaps.

We can probably rule out external invasion as a factor contributing to the collapse since no other groups in the Andes were strong enough to have posed a threat. But internal rebellion may have played a role as the bene­ fits of incorporation into the empire wore thin, or tribute demands grew too onerous. An epidemic illness may have wiped out large numbers of people, or a disease could have infected one or more of the staple crops, causing famine and widespread death. In either case the amount of labor, or produce, available to support the empire may have dropped below the minimum needed to support the system. Climate may have also played a role. A period of severe and prolonged drought preceded the rise of the Wari Empire and another period of climatic deterioration occurred in the twelfth century. But this drought occurred after Wari had begun to decline. Climate may have contributed to the final demise, but other fatal blows had probably already been struck. While any one of these factors or a combination of them, or something else entirely, may be the answer, what we do know is that when Wari collapsed, there was a major demographic disruption throughout the Andes,

44

K atharina S chreiber

even in areas peripheral to Wari control. Settlements were abandoned, entire regions may have been deserted, warfare increased dramatically, and people moved to new locations and established new settlements. Clearly Wari’s collapse brought with it terrible times. New evidence indicates that, whatever the cause, the collapse was not a sudden event. The provincial centers were abandoned gradually; sections were walled off and doorways were closed. At Jincamocco, patios and galleries that once had been the center of activities were filled with trash. Doorways and corridors were sealed, blocking access to whole sectors of the imperial enclosure. Likewise at Pikillacta doorways were sealed, and in one case an offering appears to have marked the abandonment of the site.33 In the upper Nasca Valley, Pataraya was ceremonially closed, and a thin layer of river sand was spread on every floor surface when the site was abandoned.34 These were not the actions of people fleeing for their lives in the face of attack but the planned, deliberate, and thoughtful responses of those who recognized that the end was in sight, and knew what they were giving up.

notes

1. Burger 1992, 192–95; Lumbreras 1977. 2. Thompson et al. 1985, 791–93. 3. Schreiber 2001, 70–74. 4. Cieza de León [1553] 1984, 249. 5. Monzón [1586] 1965, 245. 6. Besides the initial description by the colonial traveler, Pedro Cieza de León, the excavations by Julio C. Tello, and visit by American archaeologists in 1948, mentioned above, there have been a number of small excavations at the site over the past half century or so by Yale University’s Wendell Bennett (1953), who created the first map of the site; members of Richard MacNeish’s Ayacucho Archaeological-Botanical project (MacNeish et al. 1981); William Isbell and his students from Binghamton University, who undertook excavations in the Moraduchayoq sector (BrewsterWray 1989; W. Isbell et al. 1991; Knobloch 1983; Wagner 1981); Mario Benavides Calle (1979), who exposed cut stone chambers thought to be royal tombs in the Cheqo Wasi sector; Peru’s National Institute of Culture, under the direction of Enrique González Carré, who explored the Templo Mayor and associated structures in the Vegachayoq Moqo sector as well as the Monjachayoq sector (Bragayrac Dávila 1991; González Carré and Bragayrac Dávila 1996). Since the political upheavals of the 1980s and 1990s, work by Peruvian archaeologists has begun to appear in limited publications (e.g., González Carré and Soto Maguino 2004; Pérez Calderón 1999). 7. Schreiber 1978, 151–60. 8. González Carré and Bragayrac Dávila 1996, 14–19. 9. Benavides Calle 1978; MacNeish et al. 1981, figs. 8-12, 8-13. 10. Benavides Calle 1964; Knobloch 1976. 11. Menzel 1964, 8–10. 12. Lumbreras 1974a, 97–98. 13. Anders 1991, 166–67. 14. W. Isbell 1977b, 56. 15. W. Isbell and Cook 2002. 16. Tung and Knudson 2008. 17. Schreiber 1991a, 252; Schreiber 1984, 89–91. 18. Hyslop 1984, 271–73. 19. McEwan 2005b, 152–58; J. Topic 1991, 145–46. 20. Edwards 2010. 21. Schreiber 1992, 199.

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22. J. Topic 1991, 151–52; J. Topic and T. Topic 1983–85, 37–42. 23. Glowacki 2005b, 123. 24. Schreiber 1992, 256; Schreiber 1991b, 209. 25. Schreiber 1999, 163–65. 26. Schreiber 1991a, 249; Schreiber 1984, 89–91. 27. See D’Altroy 1992, 14–24; Sinopoli 1994. 28. Schreiber 2001, 71–80; Schreiber 1993, 112–16; Schreiber 1992, 17–27. 29. Finucane et al. 2006, 1771–773. 30. Lechtman 2005, 131–33. 31. Conklin 1982. 32. Schreiber 2005b, 144–45. 33. Glowacki 2005b, 123. 34. Edwards 2010, 449–51.

T he R ise of an A ndean E mpire

Luis Jaime Castillo Butters

Looking at the Wari Empire from the Outside In

Figure 30 [17]. Cup with axe-bearing supernatural being, from San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; 15 x 7.4 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C09. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

After more than a century of research by hundreds of archaeologists at sites located in Peruvian coastal deserts and valleys, the highlands, and tropical forests, there is very little doubt that Wari was one of the largest, most complex cultural and political entities that developed in the central Andean region. Ample material evidence supports the claim that it was bigger, wealthier, and more elaborate than any Andean society that had existed before. This evidence comes in the form of monumental sites, such as the Wari capital city and regional administrative centers including Pikillacta and Cerro Baúl, as well as in objects of exceptional beauty: textiles of many kinds, polychrome ceramics, sculptures in stone and wood, inlaid ornaments, and metal artifacts crafted by some of the most gifted artists ever to work in the Central Andes. Their creations are the subject of this catalogue. Only the Inca Empire, several centuries along the line, achieved more complexity in terms of organization and influence, or encompassed a larger territory and incorporated more pre-existing societies. Some consider the Wari to be the antecedent to the Inca, not only because the two cultures occupied the same general region but also because the Wari may have laid the economic, administrative, and perhaps linguistic foundations on which the Inca developed an even larger empire in a short period of time (see pp. 251–67, “Wari’s Andean Legacy”). Furthermore, to most researchers Wari is the first empire in ancient South America, and thus the earliest such form of political organization in the Southern Hemisphere. In the previous essay Katharina Schreiber provides a wonderful summary of this point of view. Thus, Wari was the first Andean society that went through the troubles

47

involved in creating a polity of a magnitude never seen before, which it accomplished without the advantage of foreign inspiration or influence and with no knowledge that, centuries before, the Egyptians, Assyrians, Chinese, and Romans had grown to become empires in their own worlds. Being the first had its advantages: there was little competition, less resistance, ample space for innovation, untapped resources, and great opportunities for reorganization of economics and society. But climbing to the top of the ladder carried enormous risks and challenges, such as exploring uncharted territories and developmental trajectories, interacting with unknown societies, confronting enormously difficult organizational issues caused by heterogeneity, and testing untested internal strengths and capacities, and these issues are only what had to be tackled in the early stages of building an empire. Nevertheless, when the Wari phenomenon is seen from the outside, from beyond Wari’s borders, its might dims and its image blurs. The ways in which Wari interacted with the societies that existed on its periphery—the Moche, Recuay, Nasca, and Cajamarca, to name a few—are far more diverse, more adapted to local circumstances and opportunities, than the ways Wari exercised power within its borders. My task here is to give an alternative point of view, that of someone standing “beyond Wari walls”1 and looking in, over the centuries it took for this colossal society to emerge, grow, decline, and collapse. My particular point of view is that of the Moche of the northern Peruvian coast, a society that for much of Wari’s early history coexisted with it and was influenced by it in more ways that we usually want to accept. The Moche, regarded as one of the first state-

level societies to emerge in the central Andes, had to confront some of the challenges the Wari faced later on, but on a much smaller, regional scale. The Moche never attempted to go beyond their natural territory, nor did they try to control peoples of dissimilar ethnicities. The Moche seem to have been too busy developing their own territories, making the coastal desert valleys fertile by deploying one of the largest irrigation systems in the Andes, to engage in international adventures.2 What stopped the Moche from conquering their Recuay and Cajamarca neighbors in the highlands and thus becoming the first empire in ancient Peru? Answering this question might help us understand better the singularity of the Wari and their legacy. My research and fieldwork has focused during the last twenty years on San José de Moro, one of the Moche sites that interacted with and received more influence from Wari than others. More Wari artifacts, ceramics and obsidian in particular, have been found at this site than in all the rest of the north coast of Peru. San José de Moro, its local populations, and what happened there during the Middle Horizon (600–1000) as the Wari expanded and collapsed may be a barometer of how foreign and distant societies perceived and interacted with the Wari. Wari as an Empire Before recounting the times when the Moche of northern coastal Peru started to hear about a mighty empire growing in the high Andean mountains, assessing several basic ideas is necessary. The first is whether Wari was an empire. The critical issue here is whether we look at Wari from the inside or from the outside. Only those who work within Wari walls—the heartland and the largest regional administrative centers—can assess its true nature and complexity; those outside are only able to see parts and pieces, like the elephant seen through a hole in the wall. For most researchers, Wari was an empire (that is, a political entity that began as a regional state and then absorbed and incorporated neighboring societies under its administration, resulting in a cosmopolitan conglomerate of ethnicities, languages, and religions). Military action as well as economics and

48

Luis Jaime C astillo Butters

ideology all must have played important roles in the construction and long-term maintenance of this large political unit. In comparison to small regional states, an empire has to be more efficient in its organization since it must manage territories that are not familiar, populations that are not necessarily loyal, and resources that must both support the locals and contribute to the central finances. Developing an empire requires a strong motivation, be it commercial interests, political alliances, or geopolitical, economic, or demographic pressure; perhaps all these elements play a part. Once a state starts to grow and evolve into an empire, incorporating more and more territory is the only alternative given the increasing cost of running the empire. Ayacucho was the heartland of the Wari state, and its capital city, also known as Wari, served throughout its history as the residence of its rulers and most important elites, its religious center, and the headquarters of its successful production and distribution network. William H. Isbell extends the territory directly under Wari control to the Cuzco region in the southeast, the deserts of Moquegua in the far south, and the coastal valleys of Nasca in the west.3 A recent discovery of sumptuous Wari tombs at Espíritu Pampa, due east of Ayacucho, places Wari deep into the tropical forest for most of its history. (Ceramics of both early [Ocros and Chakipampa] and late [Viñaque] Wari styles, as well as outstanding silver and gold artifacts, were found in the stonelined funerary chambers.4) This vast territory, which encompasses most of southern Peru, is larger than any previous polity, many times larger than the sum of all Moche territory, and even larger than the Chimú Empire that developed on the north coast a few centuries after the Wari had vanished. Most of the archaeologists who enthusiastically support the notion of a Wari Empire work within this territory, where the Wari built an impressive infrastructure of provincial centers that incorporate distinctive architecture (multistory cellular patio groups, D-shaped temples, niched halls, and orthogonal enclosures) to administer their territories, house their expatriates, store the goods that they commercialized or collected as taxes, and host religious ceremonies and

feasts (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment,” and pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). These archaeologists thus feel Wari’s imposing presence, perceive the changes in cultural trajectories after the Wari interacted with a specific region, and recognize the presence of foreign Wari ceramics and textiles as well as the changes in local styles and techniques for the manufacturing of all kinds of artifacts. Moreover, Wari’s arrival seems to be connected with an increase in land use and an intensification of agriculture in order to produce higher yields, which in turn may have been conditioned by climatic events that gave an advantage to the kind of organization Wari represented.5 Only the northern frontiers of Wari territory are disputed at this point, particularly the central and northern coasts of Peru and the northern highland regions of Huamachuco and Cajamarca. In these areas Wari’s presence is sporadic and of a lower intensity, and the interactions that the Wari had with local communities is the subject of much debate. One of the most intriguing cases of indirect Wari influence can be found in Huamachuco, in the northern highlands. There, the Wari began to build Viracochapampa, which is traditionally regarded as a Wari regional center. These Wari style buildings, which John and Theresa Topic interpret as facilities under control of the local communities, were never completed or used in spite of the immense labor invested in them.6 For researchers working in these areas, particularly those like me, Wari seems a bit less centralized and coherent, less powerful and forceful, even to the point that we sometimes question whether it was an empire. Maybe it was, but not in our neighborhood. We are accustomed to seeing archaeological regional states expanding, as the Moche did on the north coast, incorporating adjacent territories inhabited by societies similar to the expanding one, and soon after transforming all aspects of their material culture, from funerary practices to construction techniques. Influences occur in palaces and high temples, fancy elite wares and ritual objects, but they eventually affected the most humble domestic settings, where even the household pottery ends up imitating the wares produced in the

49

state capital. But the polities that fomented these changes before the Wari were not empires. This intensity of cultural transformation, contradictorily, is not necessarily seen in the case of the Wari even in its core territory, for example, around Pikillacta, the largest Wari provincial capital in the Lucre Valley, close to Cuzco.7 Schreiber has correctly pointed out that if we want to know what kind of political entity Wari was, our questions should not focus on a definition; otherwise we will end up trying to fit Wari into a preconceived model. Rather, we should ask what the Wari did and how they acted in specific times and spaces, and under specific circumstances. If we take this approach, we must recognize that they had an influence never seen before in the Andes. They positioned themselves and their material culture at a level that elites throughout the central Andes desired and ended up transforming the lives of individuals and the trajectories of societies, even the Moche. Three issues make the task of understanding Wari, or any historical episode, a very complicated endeavor. First, the Wari phenomenon lasted some 400 years, and in that time it no doubt changed many times, adapting to circumstances and opportunities, weakening or temporarily collapsing, and regaining strength. Second, the Wari responded to extremely diverse ecosystems, topographies, and climates: they interacted with socie­ ties in territories as radically different as the coastal deserts of the Jequetepeque Valley and the tropical forest of Espíritu Pampa. Finally, and even more important, all societies are multidimensional phenomena, composed of factions and divisions, conflicting interests and loyalties. So when Rafael Larco or Gordon Willey8 long ago suggested that the Wari had conquered the Moche we have to ask: which Moche were conquered? And reciprocally, which Wari did the conquering? All these vectors—time, space, social actors, and dimensions—generate incredibly complex processes. So if we want to understand Wari, or for that matter any ancient society, we must consider when, where, and who. With those considerations, it becomes evident that Wari was different things in dif-

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

ferent times and places. One situation would have pertained to its relations with a weak neighbor during its early stages of development, when its power and might were in high supply, but another must have applied when, during an apparent period of temporary decline at the onset of the Middle Horizon’s second epoch, Wari interacted with the powerful Moche states. Its attempts to intervene in a territory with a totally alien ecology would have contrasted with its efforts to annex a neighbor living in an ecosystem similar to its own heartland, where it could activate a familiar set of blueprints for a redevelopment program, including population relocation and the deployment of a new, more efficient agricultural infrastructure. Schreiber crafted the concept of “mosaic of control” to describe this checkered pattern. She was also trying to propose a flexible conception of Wari’s expansion different from the more traditional, less subtle notion that it imposed a “blanket of power,” that at all times and under all circumstances Wari acted to impose its will by means of coercion and violence (see pp. 31–45, “The Rise of an Andean Empire”). Over the last century, this notion has dominated the way we have thought of several ancient Andean societies: researchers have envisioned the Moche military marching across the north coast, taking over one valley after another; a Chimú polity built by force and run as a corporation; even a Nasca state expanding in the southern deserts; and, of course, the Wari Empire imposing its will and control, subjugating populations, extracting taxes, and spreading its religion at will. As archaeological research has progressed, more moderate views have replaced many of these conceptions. The Wari and the Moche The north coast of Peru, where the Moche and Chimú developed, differs from the highlands of Ayacucho, Wari’s heartland. In contrast to Ayacucho’s green mountains and valleys, the desert coast—bracketed by mountains and sea—is a barren, narrow, flat continental platform that grew from immense amounts of sediment that washed into the ocean, particularly when heavy glacial caps covering the Andean mountains melted. Temperatures are

50

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mild, never below 15 degrees C (59 degrees F) or above 30 degrees C (86 degrees F). The only sources of fresh water are seasonal rivers that flow down from the highlands during the summer months. In contrast to the inhospitable land, the Pacific Ocean is bountiful, its offshore waters containing one of the richest concentrations of fish and mollusks in the world. Early development on the coast of Peru seems to have been dependent on the ability to harvest the ocean, but as societies grew and agriculture became indispensable, the combination of mild temperatures, a steady supply of water, and rich soil made the coastal valleys the scenario for the development of the first Andean states. Irrigation technologies that transformed coastal valleys into prosperous desert oases seem to have been key to the development of these complex civilizations, starting with such local formative societies as the Cupisnique and Salinar but reaching full maturity several hundred years later with the Virú and Moche. In the lack of written documents, only archeological research allows us to reconstruct these societies. This research started with the pioneering work of Max Uhle, one of the founders of Peruvian archaeology, who in 1899 conducted the first Moche excavations in and around the Huaca del Sol and Huaca de la Luna; these enormous temples, the largest adobe brick structures in the New World, rest on the southern banks of the Moche River, close to the modern city of Trujillo.9 As Uhle expected, his excavations produced numerous burials loaded with beautiful Moche ceramics as well as later objects of origin in the Chimú and Lambayeque cultures. What was not expected and surprised even Uhle were several polychrome keros (ceremonial cups) that postdated the abandonment of the Huacas. The decoration of these keros reminded Uhle of the figures on the Gateway of the Sun at Tiwanaku, a place he knew well (see fig. 6a); he concluded that a Tiwanacoid occupation followed the Moche occupation of the site, and that the former predated the construction of the nearby Chimú capital, Chan Chan, as well as the Inca conquest of the north coast. Thanks to these observations, Uhle figured out four of the five eras of the Peruvian pre-Columbian

chronology, which fifty years later John Rowe formalized as the sequence of Horizons and Intermediate Periods.10 Rafael Larco,11 and subsequently Gordon Willey and members of the Virú Valley Project,12 used Uhle’s observations to characterize the end of the Moche era as a confrontation between weakened coastal societies and a powerful, charismatic, expansionist society from the highlands, today known as Wari. These early findings heralded a period in modern scholarship during which Wari was thought to have had a long, fruitful relationship with north coast societies, a theory shored up by the expectation that with further exploration Wari sites would be found peppered across the coast and plenty of Wari ceramics would be excavated, superimposed over Moche levels of occupation. In the century since Uhle conducted his excavations of the Huacas de Moche, however, no equally important Wari artifacts have turned up and no Wari site has ever been documented on the north coast.13 The only exception is San José de Moro in the northern Jequetepeque Valley, where hundreds of Wari objects have surfaced in their original contexts. The Moche culture of northern coastal Peru was never a centralized state with a capital or a centralized administration, and it was certainly not an empire. Rather, current research reveals that between AD 200 and 850 many Moche polities coexisted on the north coast in a manner somewhat analogous to the dozens of Maya city-states that thrived in Mesoamerica during roughly the same period. The Moche polities fall into northern and southern clusters and had different sizes and configurations: on the northern north coast they were small local states, while in the southern reaches of Moche territory they seem to have coalesced into a state centered around the Huacas del Sol and de la Luna in the Moche Valley that between AD 450 and 650 (during the Middle Moche phase) expanded and incorporated neighboring territories to the north and south. For a while after archaeologists abandoned the idea that there had been a single centralized Moche state,14 they assumed that each valley contained one polity. It seems likely now that more than one polity developed within some of the larger valleys.15

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Economically, some Moche states specialized in shoreline resources, some were more heavily agricultural, some controlled strategic commercial routes, and some engaged in intense “globalization processes,”16 including long-distance trade and international relations with foreign Andean societies. In the arts certain Moche polities excelled in ceramic production, while others crafted metal objects in technologies and shapes never seen before. Most seem to have been ruled by elites who manipulated religious symbols to achieve legitimacy and power, and among them some seem to have been ruled by priestesses of a cult connected with human sacrifice.17 To make things even more complicated, it is evident that over the 550 years of their existence the Moche states had plenty of time to change and reinvent themselves, to emerge from previous Virú and Cupisnique ancestors, to be newly created thanks to land reclamation programs, to confederate into larger units, to make alliances among themselves or with foreign powers, to dissolve, and to disband. Thus, the map of Moche polities was drawn and redrawn many times. Of all the coastal valleys that the Moche occupied, the Jequetepeque River Valley, located at the southern periphery of northern Moche territory, is singular in many regards (fig. 31). It is one of the largest valleys on the coast and one of the natural routes into the northern highlands of Peru, leading to Cajamarca, a region directly to the east, and to the tropical jungles of the Marañon River. Even before the Moche controlled it, the Jequetepeque Valley was the natural route for seasonally migrating herders, and along this route occur Initial Period (1800–1000 BC) chiefdoms in Kuntur Wasi, Tembladera, Lurífico, and Puemape. Exchange of products—fish and mollusks from the coast, coca leaves and animal pelts from the highlands, and gold and feathers from the tropical forests—was intense. The Jequetepeque Valley routes were certainly the backbone of interactions among the Moche, Wari, and Cajamarca recounted below. The process that triggered the emergence of the Moche was the development and extension of irrigation systems and technologies. In the Jequetepeque Valley, centuries of gradual,

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

A

C

H

IR

A

Figure 31. Map of Moche territory showing the northern and southern spheres. Drawing: Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro.

N D

Vicús Loma Negra

IU

R

A

A

E

N

P

N M O

HE

T A

LEC

N

LA

U

NORTHERN MOCHE

I N

L AM BAYE Q U E

ZA

S

Pampa Grande

Sipán

ÑA

to Cajamarca

Cerro Chepén

San José de Moro

JEQ

Pacatnamú

Dos Cabezas

UET

La Mina

EPE

QUE

P CH

A

Ascope

IC

C

El Brujo

I F

Mocollope and Mayal

MO

I C

Galindo Huanchaco

A

SOUTHERN MOCHE

E

VI

RÚ

Huacas del Sol and de la Luna

CH

AM

O

Huaca de la Cruz Huancaco

C

C

H

A

O

E

Tanguche

A

SA NTA

N

Guadalupito

Castillo del Santa

Pañamarca Northern Moche Region Southern Moche Region

NE

PE

ÑA

CA SM A

Excavated archaeological site mentioned in text Excavated archaeological site

L CU

EB

RA

Unexcavated archaeological site HU

100 kilometers

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Luis Jaime C astillo Butters

AR

S

ME

Y

to Lima and Central Coast

limited land reclamation projects led by formative societies such as Cupisnique or Salinar had expanded agricultural land to a maximum of 10,000 hectares (24,710 acres). Other developments followed, particularly improvements in plant husbandry, seed selection, and crop rotation. The natural outcome of this agricultural expansion was a more reliable food supply and steady population growth. Longer, deeper, better-designed canals allowed communities of somewhat later Virú cultural affiliation to penetrate farther into the deserts and to farm vast tracts of land. By the second century AD, when the Moche began to evolve from the Virú, the increase in agricultural land outpaced population growth, thus creating surpluses and a situation of sudden new wealth. The technological advancements in irrigation and agriculture, and the advantages they brought about for the Moche offer interesting parallels to Wari’s emergence, which has also been linked to agricultural intensification. It is likely that the earlier scenario perceivable on the coast was replicated in the highland valleys of Ayacucho.18 Early, Middle, and Late Moche Excavations in Early Moche (AD 200–450) sites in the lower Jequetepeque Valley, particularly those conducted by Christopher Donnan at Mazanaca and Dos Cabezas, have documented the development of distinctive elites who grew out of Virú roots.19 These elites are generally known as Moche, and it is only in Figure 32. A nearly lifesize metal mask (H. 27.5 cm) with gilded copper sheet metal decorating the forehead, brow, and chin, and a gilded copper ornament hanging from the nose. The eyes are inlaid with shell and stone. The mask was found in Tomb 2 at Dos Cabezas, a Moche site in the Jequetepeque Valley. After Milan 2003, 306, fig. 311.

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their burials, temples, and dwellings that superbly crafted ceramics and metal objects in a spectacular new style, quite different from its humble Virú predecessor, are found (fig. 32). Early Moche artists used a wide array of new techniques to produce black, red, and white ceramic vessels modeled in the form of exquisite figures in a realistic style: humans, deities, mythical animals, much of the fauna common to coastal valleys, and a few exotic animals.20 But the artistic and technological revolutions that characterized the emergence of the Moche extended to many fields beyond ceramic production. In Early Moche times, metalwork in gold, silver, and copper saw its most remarkable developments, with the introduction of gilding and silver plating techniques that were the most advanced in the central Andes. The extension of agricultural fields and irrigation systems peaked during the Middle Moche (450–650); at the beginning of the Late Moche phase (650–850), the Jequetepeque Valley had more than 80,000 hectares (198,000 acres) of agricultural land.21 In terms of interactions with foreign societies, the Early and Middle Moche phases are silent. With the exception of north coast traditions that coexisted with the Moche—including Virú and Vicús, which continued for a time after the Moche established themselves— neither foreign artifacts nor influences can be detected. Even though sites where the Moche interacted with contemporary highland neighbors have been found in the higher elevations of Moche territories, these societies’ influence on the Moche is minimal if not nonexistent. This state of isolation from events occurring in the rest of the central Andes seems to have been an intentional policy, a possible outcome of the antagonism between the Moche and their highland neighbors, several of which— Chachapoyas, Cajamarca, Huamachuco, and Recuay—were much more regional phenomena than the Moche. Around 650 things started to change rapidly in the Moche world, particularly in the Jequetepeque Valley. At about this time the Jequetepeque ceramic sequence shifts from Middle to Late Moche phases. This chronological change reflects transformations in funerary practices, ceramic styles, construc-

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

Figure 33a. Stirrupspouted ceramic bottle (H. 23 cm) painted in the Late Moche Fineline style. The image represents a winged decapitator that holds a ceremonial knife (tumi) and a severed human head. This vessel was found in a simple Late Moche pit burial (M-U 743) at San José de Moro. Photo: Archive of the Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro. Figure 33b. Stirrupspouted ceramic bottle from San José de Moro. Drawing: Archive of the Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro.

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tion technologies, and iconographic themes that eventually precipitated the collapse of the Moche by around 850. Fortunately we can follow the changes step by step thanks to extensive stratigraphic excavations and a large collection of burials dug at San José de Moro. The transformations that characterize the Late Moche phase were mostly restricted to elite ceremonial and funerary practices, along with the artifacts associated with them. Many other things remained the same, including diet and domestic wares. The three types of burial forms that existed in the Middle Moche phase—pits, boot-shaped shaft tombs, and chambers—continued on, as did many funerary offerings, such as miniature ceramics (known locally as crisoles), large containers for water and chicha (paicas), and faceneck vessels. Pit tombs, the simple and poorest burials belonging to the least privileged sectors of society, show little change.22 In elite contexts, however, there is a sudden eruption of new ceramic styles and foreign artifacts. The most emblematic new style, and the one that defines the phase, is Late Moche Fineline,23 one of the most advanced styles ever to be developed by Moche artists in terms of the forms of the objects (predominantly bottles with triangularly shaped spouts and conical necks), the technique used to

Luis Jaime C astillo Butters

decorate the artifacts (very fine lines used to execute drawings in great detail), and complex iconographic themes that focus on ritual and mythical subjects (fig. 33). I have argued elsewhere that the Late Moche Fineline style did not develop locally because during the Early and Middle Moche phases there was no fineline decorative tradition in Jequetepeque (the valley’s Middle Moche ceramics are plain or very simply decorated) or in the entire northern Moche realm.24 Northern Moche artists selected metal, not ceramic, to represent complex iconography. So, for example, in the famous Middle Moche tombs of the lords of Sipán, ceramics are plain and have little decoration, while metal objects are fantastically complex. Thus, an artistic style based entirely on complex line drawings did not evolve in Jequetepeque. Rather, it may have arrived during a migration of artists from the Chicama Valley in southern Moche territory, where compelling parallels for the style exist. The processes that triggered a sudden northward migration of highly qualified potters from the Chicama Valley to the Jequetepeque Valley is mysterious and cannot be understood without taking into account the role that Wari played in the transformations of Late Moche society. Wari in the Context of Late Moche Society In the same funerary and other contexts that Late Moche Fineline ceramics occurred, we discovered direct evidence of interactions with Wari, particularly in the form of artifacts in the Chakipampa style, which the Wari produced in their heartland during the first epoch of their existence (fig. 34).25 Even though not many Chakipampa artifacts have been found in early Late Moche burials at San José de Moro, enough have shown up to correlate unmistakably their appearance with the first examples of Late Moche Fineline art, making the arrival of these two styles part of the same process. Their co-occurrence is not likely a simple coincidence; instead, either one generated the other in some way or they shared a common cause. Perhaps Wari’s sudden appearance is related to the movement of Moche artisans from the Chicama Valley to the Jequetepeque Valley. It would help if we could find evidence that the Wari had inter-

Figure 34. The form of this vessel (H. 17.5 cm), a jar with a funnel-like neck, comes from Moche ceramics but its painted motifs are common to the early Wari Chakipampa style. The white clay (kaolin) from which it is made is typical of ceramics from the northern highlands. The vessel was found surrounded by classic Moche artifacts in a Late Moche boot-shaped shaft tomb (M-U 736) at San José de Moro. Photo: Archive of the Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro.

Figure 35. This doublespout-and-bridge head effigy vessel (H. 18 cm) in the Nievería style of the central coast features the effigy of an individual with a moustache and doublelobed ears, an attribute of deities. This unique piece was found in a niche in a Late Moche chamber burial (M-U 1022) at San José de Moro. Photo: Archive of the Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro.

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acted with the Chicama Moche, where the fineline style originated, but no such evidence has yet been found. In any case, the explanation is certainly not a Wari occupation of the Chicama Valley that forced a refugee movement northward; the Chicama Moche were not like the sixteenth-century Byzantines, who migrated out of Constantinople as the Turks advanced into the city. While the number of Late Moche Fineline and related ceramics at San José de Moro implies production by artists working locally, the same cannot be said of Wari ceramics at the site, which seem to be present as a result of exchange and commerce rather than being produced locally. Obsidian bifacial blades of typical Wari form and Wari blackware keros were also found in elite burials dating from the early part of the Late Moche phase at San José de Moro.26 Their materials and manufacturing techniques suggest that these objects must have arrived in Jequetepeque as finished items from areas close to the Wari heartland in the southern highlands of Peru. It is likely that Wari textiles were also imported, but no sign of them has been found, perhaps because preservation of organic materials is not particularly good at the site. Likewise, Wari figurines, made of crisocola (a blue to green mineral) or

copper and frequently found at Wari locales, did not make their way to San José de Moro. Thus, the number of Wari artifacts found in early Late Moche contexts is small. They consist of portable objects restricted to the most complex chamber and boot-shaped burials, including the tombs of some of the priestesses of Moro. Wari objects were interred in the most exclusive areas of these burials—close to the main body or in the tomb’s niches—and in the company of many Late Moche artifacts, including fineline bottles. Evidently, Wari objects did not have to climb the social prestige ladder; as soon as they arrived they were regarded as status markers. This privileged positioning implies that Wari was perceived as a prestigious society. Aside from Wari artifacts, other ceramic objects of foreign origin were found in the same high-status tombs, including middle period Cajamarca (ca. 700–1000) plates and bowls, produced in the highlands immediately adjacent to Moche territory. These artifacts, made exclusively with kaolin clays, are rare in Moche tombs, while Coastal Cajamarca wares, a variant made with red clays and decorated with a kaolin-rich slip, are more common. (Coastal Cajamarca is a little-understood style that seems to have originated in the middle Jequetepeque Valley, midway along the routes that connect highlands and lowlands.) The number of both Cajamarca and Coastal Cajamarca artifacts increase in the latter part of the Late Moche phase and in the subsequent early Transitional Period (850–1000), when they become one of the predominant ceramic styles. Even more unusual artifacts found in conjunction with Wari (Chakipampa style) and Cajamarca wares in the San José de Moro tombs are vessels in the Nievería style, the elite ceramic style of the Lima culture, a Late Moche contemporary of the central coast Rimac Valley, 700 kilometers (435 miles) to the south (fig. 35). Nievería style artifacts of high quality and intricate decoration are rare even on the central coast. The few found in Moro burials are exceptional in their quality and preservation, and they attest both to the contemporaneity of these styles and to the fact that these societies—Late Moche, Wari, Cajamarca, and Lima—were somehow connected. Other

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

ceramic styles have been reported from collections presumably found in San José de Moro, although their specific context is unknown; they include the Wari Atarco style from the south coast Ica Valley and the Teatino style from the valleys north of Lima. Again in these cases, their co-occurrence could be a coincidence, but it is much more likely that a single process was affecting all these regions at the same time. Whatever this process was, the Moche did not motivate it, because their scope was more limited, even though some Late Moche objects have been found in the Rimac Valley.27 Wari, which was interacting simultaneously with different societies, seems to be the agent of these international correlations. Finally, Moche potters also produced a new style during the early days of the Late Moche phase: Moche Polychrome,28 which combined forms, iconography, and decorative techniques from both Moche and Wari traditions (fig. 36). Typical forms in the Moche Polychrome style are stirrup spout bottles and faceneck jars from the earlier Moche tradition, but vessel shapes more familiar on the south coast, such as double spout and bridge bottles and “lyre-shaped” bowls, are also frequent. Decoration consists of geometric designs that Figure 36. This Moche Polychrome style vessel (H. 34 cm) combines Wari polychrome painting of a diamond-shaped motif with traditional Moche ceramic production techniques and painting. Faceneck jars are common both in Moche and Wari traditions, and this one has an additional Wari element, vertical side lugs. It was found in a late Moche boot-shaped shaft tomb (M-U 1512) at San José de Moro. Photo: Archive of the Proyecto Arqueológico San José de Moro.

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Moche artists copied from Wari artifacts (the Chakipampa and Ocros styles) along with traditional Moche themes, particularly winged figures, birds, and complex representations of priestesses in reed boats. Paradoxically, Moche Polychrome artifacts are the most frequent fine wares in Late Moche elite tombs; they outnumber Late Moche Fineline bottles and imported artifacts, which is strange for a style that shows such strong foreign influences. Another surprising aspect of this style is its very early development in the Late Moche sequence. It appeared at almost the same time as the Late Moche Fineline style at San José de Moro, just as foreign styles also showed up. I have interpreted the development of this style as a response to the demand for polychrome artifacts by Moche elites after the first Wari polychrome ceramics made their way to the north coast.29 Imported artifacts seem to have been in short supply, so skilled Moche artisans produced their own versions of Wari ceramics, adapting them to the available resources and the iconographic traditions of the Moche. Other hybrid Wari styles appeared throughout the central Andes in conjunction with the Wari expansion. At San José de Moro, this hybrid style was not produced as a response to the forceful imposition of Wari traditions; rather, it was a local response to the need to supply a large elite with objects that identified them with the prestigious Wari phenomenon. By 850 all Moche states had collapsed: the Moche abandoned most of their settlements, stopped worshiping their gods and creating their idiosyncratic arts, and their elites and leaders lost legitimacy and power. The Moche collapse has been explained in a number of ways, most of which attribute the decline to external forces—catastrophic rains and floods brought on by El Niño events, the encroachment of deserts into agricultural valleys, droughts, or earthquakes. I am convinced that the real reasons for the collapse lie in the internal weakness of political and administrative mechanisms. The Moche created intricate political systems aimed at running small-scale societies; these systems relied primarily on power that derived from ideology and ritual rather than on coercion. Moche elites created

Figure 37 [19]. Lyre cup with supernatural head, from San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; H. 9.5 x 8.4 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C08. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 38 [18]. Head vessel, from San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; 16.1 x 9.2 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C06. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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true theatrical states and in doing so transformed Moche society into a more advanced civilization—larger, wealthier, and more complex. But their success ultimately doomed them because in conditions of greater complexity their organizational principles failed. Indeed, these principles began to exacerbate social unrest and, under pressure, eventually gave way to other forms of organization. Thus, the demise of the Moche was followed by a period of turmoil and change that took different forms in each region and eventually led to the creation of larger political entities: the Chimú and Lambayeque states, both established around the turn of the first millennium of the common era. In San José de Moro, the Moche collapse initiated the Transitional Period on the north coast, a time marked by great cultural eclecticism and a lack of perceivable political leadership. During this time, relations among the descendants of the Moche, Wari, and Cajamarca people seem to have intensified, perhaps because, with the Moche gone, these societies could begin to exploit the fertile coastal valleys. Thus, agency shifted out of north coast hands. The Wari had gone through a profound transition and re-engineering at the onset of the second epoch of the Middle Horizon. A new ceramic style, Viñaque, replaced earlier, venerable Chakipampa wares, and Wari undertook much more aggressive interaction with its neighbors. In San José de Moro these tumultuous events are on display in a series of early Transitional Period burials, particularly three large chamber tombs, each of which contained the remains of priestesses. For example, burial 1241, a chamber 20 feet square, contained the coffin of a priestess surrounded by hundreds of ceramic artifacts, architectural models, and metal objects; it tells the story of continuity and change common to periods of uncertainty. In the niches that surround the coffin were clusters of artifacts organized by regional style: Post-Moche in one, Proto-Lambayeque in another, Cajamarca and Coastal Cajamarca in a third, and one entire niche reserved for three of the most remarkable Wari objects ever excavated in the north coast (figs. 30, 37, 38). These ceramic vessels include a lyre cup with a simplified head that may

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

represent the Wari staff deity, a portrait head that depicts a human who wears a polychrome headband, and a kero painted with an extraordinary and powerful image—a fierce supernatural that seems to represent the staff deity, although the staffs that the deity normally grasps have been replaced by the sacrificer’s axe and a severed human head. Final Thoughts A profusion of ceramics styles showed up all at once at San José de Moro during the early days of the Late Moche phase, which coincided with Epoch 1 of the Middle Horizon (600–850) and the first Wari expansion. This and the contexts in which these artifacts occur provide insights into the transformations and processes that were operating at the time. They also allow us to glimpse one of the many faces that Wari could have had in peripheral territories. Wari’s presence on the north coast cannot be classified as an occupation force, for there is very little proof of any kind of aggression, Wari settlements are entirely lacking, and all evidence of Wari interaction seems to be confined to the northern Jequetepeque Valley, specifically, to San José de Moro and its Late Moche neighbor, Cerro Chepén. Instead, Wari’s presence on the north coast seems to have been essentially ideological in that almost all the artifacts that signal its presence—authentic Wari objects, artifacts associated with societies in Wari’s orbit, or even locally produced Moche Polychrome style ceramics—are ritual materials found in ritual contexts. Even the obsidian bifacial blades were found in such contexts and may have been used for human sacrifices and bloodletting ceremonies rather than as the weapons of war. This emphasis on ideology is expected of early charismatic societies whose influence becomes widespread, such as the earlier Chavín phenomenon, which seems to have been religious rather than political. But it comes as a surprise when we think of the might of Wari. Contrary to all expectations, the most active agents in these interactions seem to have been the Moche, not the Wari. This was a time of profound social and cultural change, when centuries of isolation suddenly ended and

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societies in many parts of Peru became open to foreign influences. In Moche territory the changes took place on an unprecedented scale and seem to have been material expressions of much more complex and widespread cultural processes. Little or no previous evidence of foreign influence can be found in Moche archaeological contexts in the way of exotic artifacts. Clearly, the Moche opened their doors to all these artifacts at the beginning of the Middle Horizon, lifting their restrictions, accepting material symbols of a foreign ideology, and initially placing these symbols in association with the upper echelons of society. The sudden arrival of Wari artifacts and the preferential treatment they received surely reflects the weakening of Moche elites in the face of challenging social or meteorological conditions. But it was not Wari’s exercise of imperialistic policy that forced the Moche to accept Ayacucho ideas and symbols. Instead, it seems that Moche elites at San José de Moro and Cerro Chepén wanted to demonstrate strong affiliation with the prestigious Wari phenomenon. These elites seem to have monopolized access to the Wari and to have parlayed this exclusivity in their local and interregional power strategies. In some respects Late Moche elites from Jequetepeque may have been suffering an intense case of cultural alienation. It can be suggested, following Jennings’s concept,30 that the Moche had entered a phase of “globalization,” multiplying their contacts with societies across the central Andes—Nievería, Cajamarca, Atarco, Teatino, and of course Wari. But they may not have interacted with each of these societies individually and independently. Since Wari had an identifiable presence and vested interests in these territories, it seems more logical that Wari congregated them in its transactions with the Late Moche of the Jequetepeque Valley. What we cannot explain is the singularity of each Moche context; for example, the first priestess burial found at San José de Moro (burial M-U 41) featured two Nievería bottles and one Cajamarca plate but no Wari artifacts.31 Could it be that specific Moche individuals, once in the orbit of the Wari conglomerate, chose to associate themselves differentially with the societies

involved? But why would the Wari promote the distribution of artifacts from the central coast or the northern highlands as part of its interaction strategies with the Moche? What would they gain? These questions are not easily answered, particularly because we do not understand the kinds of relations that the Wari had with these societies and interactions could have been radically different from one to the other. For example, until recently we had no idea that the Wari had important strongholds in Cajamarca, something that Shinya Watanabe’s work in Huaquerones and El Palacio de Miraflores is demonstrating,32 although specifically connected with artifacts in Wari’s Viñaque style, which developed during the second epoch of the Middle Horizon. At these sites Watanabe has found Wari architecture in association with mostly local wares but also a minute number of Wari ceramics. The same kind of situation occurs at Cerro Chepén, where the architecture is partially of Wari and highland Huamachuco styles, while most of the artifacts are of local origin.33 Could it be that local leaders in Cajamarca and in Jequetepeque employed Wari architects and masons to build palaces and ceremonial places? In my interpretation, the data signal that the Wari and the local population in Cajamarca had forged an alliance, and that the same model was in the process of being extended to the coast. This relationship would not imply that Wari had territorial control of these regions, as the imperial model would have it, but that it formed strong coalitions with northern cultures based on shared interests. This interpretation is quite reasonable, given the fact that Wari’s presence in the region was limited to specific strategic locations, leaving the vast majority of territory strictly in local hands. The Cajamarca relationship seems to have been essential to Wari’s overall strategy since Wari moved through the highlands on a route that likely connected Cajamarca and Huamachuco with regions to the south and descended to the coast via perpendicular roads. As discussed earlier, on the entire north coast the route to Jequetepeque seems to have been preferred for highland-to-coast movement, which explains why almost all evidence of

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Wari’s impact in northern Peru is found in Cajamarca and San José de Moro. In spite of Cajamarca’s great distance from the Wari capital, it seems to have been one of Wari’s strongest associates, hopping along wherever the Wari went. Cajamarca artifacts have been found at Wari’s capital metropolis and even in the recently discovered elite Wari tombs at Espíritu Pampa in the Department of Cuzco.34 But the relationships between Wari and Cajamarca seem to have been different from other interactions the Wari developed. In contrast to what happened in other regions, there are no perceivable changes in the forms and decorations of Cajamarca ceramics after contact with Wari. There is no Cajamarca-Wari style or Cajamarca Polychrome style, implying that the Cajamarca were not very heavily influenced by the Wari in spite of their close association. But why choose a best friend who lives so far away? Cajamarca must have had something very important to offer to the Wari—although just what remains to be determined—and it is likely that Wari’s presence in Cajamarca will prove to be much more intense than archaeologists expected. The relationship between the Wari and the Lima society is more vague.35 Archaeologists working on the central coast deny that Wari had any territorial domination and reduce the Wari phenomenon there to influence that had ideological overtones rather than real geopolitical control. But then, why do we get Nievería ceramics at San José de Moro? This is a tough question to answer, given the fact that to my knowledge this style of artifact is found on the north coast only at San José de Moro. In this essay I have explored the relations between two immensely complex phenomena: Moche and Wari. To understand them and their relationship we must keep in mind a number of dimensions that influenced the ways in which they interacted: time, space, and the social actors involved. It is important to emphasize that the Moche were never a centralized society but a number of regional states only one of which, centered at San José de Moro, managed to control most Moche interaction with Wari. It may have done so to the exclusion of other Moche states and at least at the beginning it was Moche elites who took

L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

the lead in the relationship, not Wari. Thus, San José de Moro and the transformation that occurred in the Late Moche phase are essential to understanding how the Wari confronted the challenge of embracing the Moche. Could this peculiar situation have been the case with other Wari interactions? Wari appears in the Late Moche archaeological record in ways that are absolutely unexpected and perplexing, with the strong mediation of Cajamarca and a great cultural eclecticism that included the Nievería, among others. But Wari’s influence was rapidly transformed into a local phenomenon, embodied by the Moche Polychrome style, that seems to have escaped Wari’s control. It is evident that in the Jequetepeque Valley the Wari deployed a strategy that was most appropriate to the conditions of the local Moche state: they focused on the higher levels of society and exercised influence mostly based on the restricted distribution of portable artifacts loaded with meaningful iconography. In the process the Wari involved some of the societies already under their influence, demonstrating a high degree of cosmopolitanism in doing so and allowing their closest associates, the Cajamarca, to assume a

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dominant role in interactions with the Moche. Actually, in every territory outside its borders the Wari behaved in a different way: building characteristic architecture in some places, influencing architectural styles in others, transforming the production of ritual object in still others. This eclecticism, or adaptability, is one of the reasons Wari’s imperial character has been doubted. Whatever the Wari were— an occupational force, a political influence, a state extracting tribute from dominated territories, or all these things—one thing is undeniable: they had an enormous impact on the development of local communities. This impact, the dimensions of which are only now surfacing thanks to new archaeological research, is perceivable in Moche territory in the transformation of local ceramic styles and the development of hybrid styles that amalgamated Wari icons and techniques with local tradition. Perhaps in regard to its foreign policy Wari was in a state of metamorphosis, a monster of many heads that rapidly adapted to circumstances and opportunities, waiting for the right moment to realize its true essence, that of the first empire in the central Andes.

notes

1. Jennings 2010b. 2. Castillo Butters and Uceda Castillo 2008. 3. W. Isbell 2010. 4. Fonseca et al. 2011. 5. Segura Llanos and Shimada 2010. 6. Marcone Flores 2010; T. Topic and J. Topic 2010a; Watanabe 2002. 7. Belisle and Covey 2010. 8. Larco Hoyle 1945; Willey 1953. 9. Menzel 1977; Uhle 1915. 10. J. Rowe 1962b. 11. Larco Hoyle 1945. 12. Strong and Evans 1952; Willey 1953. 13. Mackey 1982. 14. Larco Hoyle 1945. 15. Castillo Butters 2010. 16. Jennings 2010a. 17. Castillo Butters and Uceda Castillo 2008; Quilter 2002. 18. W. Isbell 2010. 19. Donnan 2007; Donnan 2006. 20. Donnan 2009. 21. Eling 1987. 22. Castillo Butters 2009b. 23. Castillo Butters 2009a; McClelland et al. 2007. 24. Castillo Butters 2009a; Castillo Butters 2001b. 25. Castillo Butters et al. 2008. 26. Castillo Butters 2001a. 27. Stumer 1958. 28. Castillo Butters 2001a. 29. Castillo Butters 2001a; Castillo Butters 2001b. 30. Jennings 2011. 31. Castillo Butters 2005; Donnan and Castillo Butters 1992. 32. Watanabe 2002. 33. Rosas Rintel 2007. 34. Fonseca et al. 2011. 35. Marcone Fores 2010; Segura Llanos and Shimada 2010.

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L ooking at the Wari E mpire F rom the Outside I n

Transforming the World

Gordon F. McEwan and Patrick Ryan Williams

The Wari Built Environment: Landscape and Architecture of Empire

Figure 39. View of walls at Pikillacta. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

The Wari set out to change not only society but the physical reality of their world. For the first time, centralized planning on a massive scale remade the Andes into something new. Dominating central Peru for as many as four centuries, Wari overlords left an indelible mark on the landscape, building some of the largest monuments ever seen in the region. They are best represented by the well-studied provincial centers Pikillacta, Viracochapampa, Cerro Baúl, Azángaro, and Jincamocco, and by the less well known capital of the empire, the city of Wari. These sites provide an excellent sample of Wari architecture but are by no means all of the Wari monuments. The scale and cost of this imperial infrastructure was not equaled until the rise of the Inca Empire centuries later. The Wari achievement includes not only distinctive formal architecture but equally impressive agricultural infrastructure in the form of terraces, aqueducts, and canal systems that made a statement of power still reverberating today.

[55]. Overleaf, Super­ natural head vessel; ceramic and slip; 17.6 x 17.1 x 14.7 cm. Milwaukee Public Museum, 54569/20517.

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The City of Wari The Wari capital, occupied by perhaps 20,000 to 40,000 inhabitants, was a sprawling metropolis covering several square kilometers of rolling hills.1 It lacks the rigid organization and grid plan that characterize the provincial centers because it grew organically as the empire grew, with new neighborhoods cropping up and expanding the footprint of the urban center. Wari was a cosmopolitan city, with a variety of residents representative of the far-flung reaches of the imperial realm. Diverse ceramic styles from both hinterland and distant regions litter the surface, now covered with rubble.

Wari is organized into discrete neighborhoods, dissected by high-walled roads that crisscross the city. Small cities unto themselves, these areas have modern names that recall the Quechua heritage of today’s inhabitants of the region: Moraduchayoq, Cheqo Wasi, Vegachayoq Moqo, Robles Moqo, and Monjachayoq, to name a few. A system of canals and drains provided water to residents and allowed wastewater to leave the city. Within these neighborhoods—the building blocks of the city—warren-like passageways connected buildings. These alleyways were designed for the residents who knew them; there was no overt geometrical plan to guide navigation. Structures in the neighborhoods varied in construction technique and building style but followed a central building canon. The most common building type in the capital was a courtyard house, known as a patio group. This ubiquitous form was used not only in the capital, but in all the provincial centers as well. Larger scale variants of the patio group served as administrative buildings. The capital also contained a number of D-shaped temples, which are dispersed in several neighborhoods. These temples, rare in the provinces, were obviously of major import to the peoples of the Wari capital, where the largest example, in the Vegachayoq Moqo neighborhood, measures 20 meters (66 feet) in diameter. This was likely the principal Dshaped temple in Wari’s realm, as it is twice as grand as any other known example.2 D-shaped temples in the Wari heartland’s second city, Conchopata, contained evidence that may relate them to a trophy-head cult practiced by Wari’s ruling elite.3 Anita Cook has argued that the D-shaped temples were also places of ritual sacrifice, identifying a probable D-

Figure 40. Aerial photograph of Pikillacta. After W. Isbell and McEwan 1991b, 96, fig. 3; courtesy Servicio Aerofotográfico Nacional, Peru.

shaped temple in Wari iconography that is depicted next to a warrior or priest holding a severed human head.4 Cut stone construction has also been found in the Wari capital, though it is not typical in the Wari provinces, where plastered walls of fieldstone and mortar are more common. Tombs in the Cheqo Wasi neighborhood are made of large cut slabs of dark volcanic stone, fitted together with precision.5 William Isbell has described a cut stone subterranean temple in the deepest levels of Moraduchayoq reminiscent of earlier Formative Period (2000 BC– AD 400) construction techniques at Tiwanaku, Wari’s competitor of the Bolivian altiplano.6 Missing from the capital’s architectural repertoire are the blocks of small, geometrically organized, conjoined rooms of several provincial centers. Likewise, the niched hall, another important architectural form found in the largest provincial centers, is absent from the Wari capital. The Provincial Centers The Wari imperial architectural style is easily recognized in the provinces by its rigid geometry based on rectangular ground plans. It is widespread throughout a large portion of

6 6

Peru and represents the signature of the Wari imperial presence; thus the extent of the Wari Empire can largely be seen in the distribution of these distinctive architectural complexes, which appeared abruptly in the Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000) and spread as the empire expanded and imposed its rule throughout the Andes.7 Monumental construction in this architectural tradition often takes the form of vast rectangular enclosure-compounds, which are believed to have served as the administrative centers and elite residences for those governing the empire.8 These enormous complexes each contain numerous individual structures of several distinct types that exhibit a high degree of uniformity from one site to another. This uniformity has led to the belief that the provincial centers are the product of a centralized department of public works responsible for planning and constructing architectural monuments throughout the empire. The compounds exhibit a number of striking and peculiar characteristics. One of the first things the observer notices is the scale of the walls. Where architecture is well preserved and complete ground plans are visible—such as at Pikillacta (fig. 40), the larg-

G ordon F. M c E wan and Patrick Ryan W illiams

est provincial site, located near Cuzco in the southern highlands, and Viracochapampa (fig. 41), near Huamachuco in the northern highlands—walls still tower as high as 6 to 12 m (20 to 40 ft.) and have an average thickness of up to 1.5 m (5 ft.). Another notable attribute is size: the best preserved provincial compounds are enormous. Pikillacta measures 1.68 by 1.12 km (1.04 by 0.69 mi.) and contains more than 700 structures, many of which are as long as 50 m (165 ft.) on a side.9 Cuzco, the famous Inca imperial capital city, is approximately the same size. Viracochapampa measures 560 by 580 m (1,840 by 1,900 ft.);10 although the site was never finished, the builders appear to have intended to fill it with structures as densely as Pikillacta. The high surviving walls in some Wari sites are often fitted with rows of projecting

stones, narrow shelves, or rows of small niches interpreted as supports for upper stories (fig. 39). Excavations at Pikillacta revealed staircases and collapsed upper floors, demonstrating that some Wari buildings were as many as three stories in height.11 Most Pre-Columbian Peruvian architecture, including that of the Inca, is generally restricted to no more than two stories. Despite their high walls, Wari buildings have few or no windows. The interiors of the rooms would have been very dark, even in the noonday sun. Given their monumental scale and density of rooms, the interiors of these large compounds are surprisingly inaccessible. Few corridors or streets penetrate the dense blocks of architecture, and those that exist tend to give access to very few structures. Although doorways are reasonably common between

Figure 41. Plan of Viraco­ chapampa. After W. Isbell and McEwan 1991b, 143, fig. 2; courtesy John Topic.

Plaza

N

67

200 meters

Niched Halls

Finished

Patio Groups

Unfinished Foundations

T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

the components of individual structures, such as patio groups and their surrounding narrow chambers, few permit passage between buildings and rooms. Likewise, entrances to the entire site, which is often surrounded by high perimeter walls, are rare and access to these entrances is restricted. The whole effect is a maze-like array of passages surrounded by high walls. Access throughout is extremely limited as are visibility and sight lines. Although complex in overall design, the large Wari provincial compounds comprise a small group of constantly repeated modules—relatively simple room and building types—that combine to form the larger whole. The result is a complex geometric floor plan.

Figure 42. Threedimensional model of patio groups at Pikillacta. Drawing: Gordon F. McEwan.

Studies of Wari provincial architectural compounds, especially at Pikillacta because it is the best preserved, but also at Viracochapampa, Azángaro, Cerro Baúl, and Jincamocco, suggest the following typology of structures to define Wari provincial architecture. Architectural Types and Functions patio groups. The most commonly occurring forms in Wari architecture, patio groups are rectangular structures containing long, narrow, roofed chambers surrounding a patio that is open to the sky (fig. 42). Patio groups may be further subdivided into symmetrical and asymmetrical subtypes (sometimes the same number of chambers does not occur on

6 8

all sides of the patio), although a functional distinction between the subtypes has not yet been discerned. Gordon McEwan and Nicole Couture suggest that the differences in the internal layout and number of long narrow chambers around the open patio may be the result of the structure expanding over time.12 Since patio groups are cellular in nature and embedded with the surrounding structures, the only expansion possible is upward through the addition of stories or inward through the addition of parallel narrow chambers. This architectural plan produces an inward-looking arrangement and offers a great deal of privacy because of the limited number of access points, sight lines, and the extremely high walls. Privacy and security seem to be emphasized in these spaces. Evidence for the function of these rooms consists of the artifacts found within them. At Pikillacta they consist principally of camelid bones (llamas and alpacas) and pottery shards but also a small number of bronze objects, including sewing needles and shawl pins (tupus) that were worn by women, which implies their presence in these structures. A few exotic and valuable artifacts made of imported materials such as Spondylus princeps (a red or orange spiky oyster shell), colored stone beads, and obsidian suggest the presence of elite and high-ranking persons. Mary Glowacki’s study of the Pikillacta ceramic collection indicates that the majority of the vessels were used to prepare and serve food and drink, not for storage.13 A number of hearths were encountered in some of the patio groups, which could represent locations where food was prepared or warmed. Although a majority of the chambers excavated within the patio groups were empty, a few showed evidence of having been used to store food. These chambers do seem well suited to storage, however, and if the contents were valuable (perishable nonfood stuffs such as fine cloth or feathers, for example), they may have been removed at the time of abandonment. The cellular nature and small dimensions of these chambers make their use as living quarters seem unlikely although we cannot rule out this function. There is also the problem of illumination in these multistory buildings;

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they are dark and uncomfortable spaces to the modern observer. Drawing on the Inca analogy, many archaeologists suppose that the function of the patio groups was feasting,14 which probably incorporated both administrative ritual and religious practice, perhaps simultaneously. Inca administrative ritual similarly involved bringing together a ruler or his representatives with his subjects for the purposes of ceremonial performance related to a formal request for labor. Ceremonial feasting and drinking in which great amounts of food and native corn beer (chicha) were consumed characterized these rituals. Conspicuous generosity was also practiced at these feasts, and the numerFigure 43. Threedimensional model of a niched hall at Pikillacta. Drawing: Gordon F. McEwan.

niched halls.

ous chambers in the patio group structures perhaps were used to store goods to be distributed to feast participants. The archaeological evidence for ritual feasting is the presence of large numbers of ceremonial serving and drinking vessels in the artifact collections of a site, as at Pikillacta. Drinking chicha is ritually essential yet also dangerous in that it renders the participants drunk, insensible, and therefore vulnerable. The patio groups could have provided secure, private locations for such performances. Variations in sizes of patio groups perhaps reflect the size of the administrative unit or kinship group involved in the feast (see also pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). Patio groups at other Wari sites have occasionally produced different kinds of evidence,

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suggesting that the correspondence between this architectural form and the activities carried out within it are not as specific as we might think. At Jincamocco, Katharina Schreiber found evidence for cooking in patio groups, which is consistent with feasting.15 At the Wari capital city, however, William H. Isbell, Christina Brewster-Wray, and Lynda Spickard found trash deposits, suggesting domestic occupation in some of the patio groups.16 Unfortunately whether this was an original or secondary usage of these buildings is not clear. The lack of primary archaeological deposits in many patio groups makes a secure diagnosis of structural function impossible. It is also likely that a variety of functions took place in these structures, ritual feasting being among the most important for state purposes. These chambers appear to have been completely roofed over without an internal open-air court. They are found only at Pikillacta and Viracochapampa, sometimes embedded in the surrounding architecture and at other times freestanding in the courtyards of patio groups (fig. 43). As a class of buildings, niched halls have consistent diagnostic characteristics but vary considerably in terms of size and form. One defining characteristic is large wall niches with a trapezoidal footprint that is narrower at the front and wider at the back. The niches are found in a variety of sizes, and there are a number of different niche placement patterns within the walls. Some buildings have them only in the short end walls. In others, they are located on either side of a corner. Examples from Viracocha­pampa exhibit multiple rows of niches located in all walls. The other major category of variation among the niched halls is in size. The smallest known example at Pikillacta is 3.5 by 4 m (11.5 by 13 ft.), whereas the largest example is 15 by 42 m (49 by 138 ft.). The significance of this disparity is, at present, unknown. These buildings have internally rounded corners, and offering pits are present in walls of the corners, in the floor in front of each corner, and beneath the thresholds. In the case of niched halls the argument for a single specific function can be made with more confidence than for the patio groups.

T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

Niched halls seem to be the focal points of activity at both Pikillacta and Viracochapampa because of their association with the largest open spaces within the site. Although not as numerous as the patio groups at each of these sites, substantial numbers are present: eighteen at Pikillacta and nineteen at Viracochapampa. The excavations of niched halls at Piki­ llacta uncovered surprisingly few artifacts, which were almost exclusively from offerings in specially prepared pits located below floor level in the corners or thresholds of the buildings. Almost all come from previously looted contexts. (The few pottery fragments found outside these offerings are not very illuminating.17) The reason for the scarcity of artifacts is that the floors of niched halls were lined with gypsum plaster; its hard surface does not permit artifacts to be trod into the floor or accidentally deposited by other means. The care taken in building these white gypsum floors implies that they were kept clean and probably frequently swept of any debris that might have accumulated. Further, evidence for deliberate and orderly abandonment implies that nothing of value was left on floor surfaces. As a result, the only artifacts remaining were those deposited as offerings, including bronze objects, Spondylus princeps shells, and camelid bones. These offerings provide evidence that the function of these buildings was religious. Originally these offerings probably contained additional objects that directly link the function of the buildings with ancestor worship. This suggestion is supported by two elaborate offerings recovered at Pikillacta, both consisting of turquoise-colored stone figurines representing costumed humans (see fig. 223). Looters found these offerings in 1927 in offering pits 3 m (10 ft.) deep in the corners of a niched hall that McEwan reexcavated in 1989. Each set contained forty figurines dressed in distinctive costumes and headgear.18 Cook has provided the results of a thorough analysis of these objects that sheds light on the function of Pikillacta as a whole.19 She concludes that these figurines “arguably represent the legendary 40 founding ancestors of the Wari polity.”20 Further, she suggests that “ancestor worship could be appropriated

70

by the state to ensure rights of inheritance, domination, and sacred legitimacy and in this sense serve administrative ends.”21 A similar use of ancestral figurines has been reported by Katherine Julien for the Inca.22 She comments that, according to the chronicle of the Spanish conquistador Juan de Betanzos, miniature gold figures representing the lineages descended from Manko Qhapaq, the legendary founder of the Inca ruling dynasty, were buried at the foot of a stone representing the sun that was set up in the main plaza of Cuzco.23 At Viracochapampa, the only other site with niched halls, there is not much evidence related to the halls’ function because the site was never completed or occupied. Niched halls at both sites, however, contained evidence of secondary human burials. At Pikillacta, this evidence consisted of a cache of human skulls located under the floor in one corner of one niched hall; looted pits in the corners of other niched halls suggest that the walls had originally held human remains. At Viracochapampa secondary burials consisting of parts of several bodies were found in a pit in the corner of a niched hall.24 These results suggest a similar function for these structures at both sites. Useful comparisons also can be made with earlier and later examples of ceremonial buildings from other Andean cultures. The association of wall niches and internally rounded corners with ritual buildings is very ancient in the Andes. The most salient examples are found in highland temples of the late Preceramic Period (2900–1800 BC), such as La Galgada.25 Later, buildings with rounded corners and wall niches occur at the Initial Period (1800–1000 BC) site of Moxeke in the Casma Valley on the north-central Peruvian coast. Huaca A at Moxeke, a multichambered structure made up of rooms with rounded corners and walls containing numerous niches, is believed to have been used to store ritual paraphernalia and foodstuffs.26 John Topic has proposed that niched halls were introduced into Wari architecture through contact with the earlier north highland Huamachuco culture, which commonly built such halls.27 He proposes a sequence of these structures starting with the Huama­

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chuco forms of the Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600) and continuing with the Wari forms of the Middle Horizon. This sequence culminates in the Inca kallanka, a very large niched hall with numerous doorways that, the Spaniards say, had ceremonial functions. Topic believes the kallanka was inspired by the niched halls the Inca saw at Pikillacta, which is close to Cuzco, the Inca capital. Another important analogous Inca structure known to have functioned as a ritual/ ceremonial building is the great temple of Viracocha at Raqchi, southeast of Cuzco. This temple and many of its adjacent structures were created in the form of niched halls. They are built of stone and adobe and exhibit similar proportions to both Inca kallankas and Wari niched halls. Further, excavations by archaeologist Bill Sillar28 are demonstrating that a Wari occupation underlays the Inca temples at this site.

Thus, multiple lines of evidence suggest that Wari niched halls were possibly related to ancestor worship. The prominence and frequency of these buildings within the two largest Wari provincial sites, Pikillacta and Viracochapampa, speaks to their importance. In addition, artifacts related to ancestor worship seem to have been associated with this class of structures. In terms of form, internally rounded corners and distinctive wall niches are characteristics of ceremonial buildings dating back as early as late Preceramic times, and niched halls continued to serve similar purposes into the Inca period. By analogy, the presence of these characteristics in Wari niched halls implies ceremonial function. small conjoined rooms. These rooms are built in rows and share end walls. Their size varies but is always considerably smaller than the other types. Those at Pikillacta (fig. 44) av-

Figure 44. Plan of Pikillacta. After McEwan 1990, 102, fig. 3; plan: Gordon F. McEwan.

N

71

100 meters

T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

Figure 45. Plan of Azángaro. After Anders 1991, 169, fig. 3.

South

Central

North

erage about 4 by 5 m (13 by 16 ft.) while those at Azángaro (fig. 45), a small Wari agricultural facility near the capital, average about 2.5 by 9 m (8 by 29 ft.). They have internally rounded corners and sometimes externally rounded corners.29 These small structures, arranged in groups of rows with carefully controlled access, have occasioned much speculation in regard to their function. A number of archaeologists have thought that they might be storage structures like those used by the Inca.30 Others have suggested a ritual function, which is plausible given their rounded corners. Excavations at both Pikillacta and Azángaro could not confirm any particular interpretation.31 Most of these structures at both sites appear never to have been completed, making interpretation of their intended function difficult.

Excavations . . . Limits of irregular buildings

50 meters

72

N

d - shaped structures. As their name implies, these structures have a floor plan in the shape of a “D” (fig. 46). In both the provinces and the heartland, most measure approximately 10 m (33 ft.) in diameter. They invariably looked out onto an open plaza or courtyard. The entrance to the structure was by way of a door in the center of the straight wall; on the interior, a pair of niches flanked either side of the door. Likewise, a set of four niches was set in the curved interior wall in each of the other three directions. This pattern of sixteen niches organized in four groups of four is repeated in every known D-shaped structure.32 As mentioned above, D-shaped structures are relatively abundant at the capital and select sites in the heartland, such as at Conchopata and in the Chicha-Soras region.33 They are often found in pairs in the provincial sites. South of the Wari heartland, they are thus far best known from Cerro Baúl, the southern frontier provincial center (fig. 47).34 In the northern realm, they are present at Honco Pampa in the Callejón de Huaylas. They are, however, not present everywhere, including Pikillacta and Viracochapampa. The cult practiced in the D-shaped structures was obviously diffuse, but not critical to Wari existence in every provincial setting. Where D-shaped structures have been excavated, they are in one of two patterns. At Cerro Baúl, the interiors are completely clean

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Figure 46. View of a D-shaped structure in the Vegachayoq Moqo sector of the Wari capital. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

Figure 47. Plan of Cerro Baúl. Plan: Patrick Ryan Williams.

as a result of either ongoing maintenance or meticulous cleaning prior to abandonment. Small offerings, buried in pits around the exterior walls or beneath the floor in the center of the room, include ceramic or gourd vessels or metal foil cut in the shape of a llama.35 Elsewhere, such as Conchopata, floors were strewn with quantities of smashed ceramic vessels used for brewing and serving chicha. Several human trophy heads were also found in these contexts.36

Construction, Engineering, and Costs What was involved in building a Wari center, how much did it cost, and how do we interpret the cost? In studying a society without money it is impossible to come up with a cash figure for costs. Nevertheless we can obtain an idea of how much human energy was involved in these projects and assess costs in terms of person-days of labor. McEwan has done this for Pikillacta by systematically examining the various steps involved in bringing a Wari construction project to fruition.37 The building of the monumental Wari sites throughout the realm was surprisingly labor intensive in ways that are not at first obvious. It is apparent, however, that a tremendous amount of stone had to be quarried and brought to the construction site; thousands of tons were transported by human energy alone since the Wari lacked wheeled vehicles and draft animals. But even before beginning to acquire the basic building material, the plan of the monument had to be recorded and transmitted by engineers who did not use writing or paper. We do not know how this was done, but one possibility would have been to record the information on a khipu, a device made of strings on which numerical informa-

SECTOR E m 75 2,5

Ritual platform

SECTOR A

SECTOR B D-shaped temples SECTOR C

0

m

Palace

30

2,

57 5

m

Brewery

SECTOR D Temple Annex

Excavated areas

73

N

Administration and Storage

30 meters

T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

tion was enciphered via a complex system of knots (see fig. 180; see also [155], p. 276). Khipus record information in a highly organized and orderly hierarchy, and the repetitive geometry of Wari architecture lends itself to being recorded by such means. Arriving at the site with the appropriate plans, the engineer in charge of the project was faced with the task of surveying the ground and laying out the plan. The next step was excavating the wall foundations, an enormous earth-moving project for at some sites the foundation trenches were as much as 4 m (13 ft.) deep. While the excavated soil could be saved to make adobe mortar for use in constructing the walls, more soil would have to be excavated to provide enough mortar. Adobe mortar also requires large quantities of grass, used as a temper, and crews were likely devoted to finding, cutting, and transporting sufficient amounts. Many Wari architectural monuments were apparently completely plastered with white gypsum, which posed another set of problems. Before it can be mixed with water to make plaster of paris, gypsum must be mined and then reduced to a powder by heating it in fire. The quantities necessary would involve a considerable labor force dedicated to producing the plaster. Once prepared, it had to be moved to the construction site and then applied to the walls and floors of the buildings. The wood beams supporting the floors of the many two- or three-storied structures presented a particularly difficult problem. Building these floors required huge quantities of wood—more than was commonly available near many highland sites—which implies a large labor force trekking to distant areas to acquire enough wood and carry it back. Wood was also necessary to fuel the fires used to reduce the gypsum to plaster as well as to build the framework for the thatched roofs of the buildings. Such usage increased the amount of wood needed to tremendous amounts. Once all the building materials were assembled on-site, some of the not-so-obvious costs began to appear. In order to make the adobe mortar and the gypsum plaster, a large quantity of water was required. The most effective way to move vast amounts of water is

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through canals and aqueducts, which seems to be what the Wari did. Creating them, in turn, was a separate major construction project. Finally, one of the greatest costs was the necessity to feed the labor force, provide shelter, and haul away human waste and garbage so as to keep the work force healthy and not spoil the environment. For a large monument such as Pikillacta, the total cost of the project measured in labor would have come to almost 8 million person-days. That the Wari were able to engage in such an undertaking is amazing. What is even more impressive and provides a true measure of their power is that they were able to build multiple centers throughout the empire at about the same time. Wari Hydraulic Works The Wari, master landscape engineers, were the first to transform the highland Andean landscapes of the Pacific watersheds through terraced irrigation agriculture. Their water­ works were especially well developed in the regions surrounding the most important provincial centers: Pikillacta and Cerro Baúl, located, respectively, in the Lucre Basin of the Cuzco Valley and in the Moquegua Valley. Valencia Zegarra has documented a total of seven principal canals with a total length of 48 km (30 mi.) in the Lucre Basin.38 The largest of them, Canal A, is 16 km (10 mi.) long and runs from the Chelque River southwest of Pikillacta to the city itself. One of the largest ever constructed in the area, Canal A had the capacity to carry 850 to 1,700 liters (225 to 450 gal.) of water per minute. During its course, it crosses two aqueducts (Cambayoq and Rumicolca) and passes through a tunnel 5 m (16.5 ft.) long cut from solid rock. The final 5 km (3 mi.) of its course before it reaches Pikillacta averages a mere 0.07 percent grade, a true feat of engineering skill. Most ancient earthen contour canals maintain a grade of 0.5 to 1.5 percent. Achieving a slope close to zero over long distances requires advanced engineering capabilities lest part of the course run uphill. The aqueducts of Cambayoq and Rumicolca (fig. 48; see also fig. 238) are impressive monuments in their own right. Both have a zigzag plan, with the former 87 m (285 ft.) long and the latter 239 m (784 ft.) long. Both were

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ing 30 by 30 cm (12 by 12 in.). These large man-made lakes were used to feed canals that reached agricultural zones at great distances from the water sources and to augment the flow of Canal A to Pikillacta. In the Middle Horizon, the reservoirs, in conjunction with the canal systems, provided water for Piki­ llacta and the 572 hectares (1,413 acres) of irrigable land in the basin. The effect of Wari hydraulic works on the Lucre Basin cannot be overestimated. Demonstrating the Wari mastery over water, they effectively transformed the landscape around Pikillacta into lush gardens, man-made lakes, and impressive stone monuments. The conversion of the 105 sq. km (40.5 sq. mi.) basin from dry hillsides into a garden of immense proportions is on a scale of engineering prowess that rivals the construction of the city itself. While the waterworks around Pikillacta are impressive, the changes to the landscape the Wari initiated in the Moquegua Valley on their southern frontier are even more remarkable. The settlement there is centered on the great mesa of Cerro Baúl, a mountain (cerro) with sheer cliffs that towers 600 m (2,000 ft.) above the valley floor and has a flat top 1.5 km (0.6 mi.) long (fig. 49). The Wari sites in Moquegua are located on the summit and slopes of Cerro Baúl and Cerro Mejía, which are adjacent mountains. The most sumptuous monumental architecture and highest status elite architecture were located on the peaks. Positioned to control the sacred pinnacles, these locales also provided a defensive location on the Wari-Tiwanaku frontier. Situated on mountain crests, the elite placed themselves closest to the gods. In this, the driest desert environment of their realm, the Wari were challenged to supply their citadel with water and food. To do so, they constructed a massive canal system that drew water from the Torata River to the ridge upon which their mountaintop cities were built (fig. 50). The principal canal was at least 14 km (8.7 mi.) long and had a discharge capacity of 400 liters (106 gal.) of water per second as it reached the base of the urban settlements at Cerro Baúl and Cerro Mejía. This same canal irrigated up to 324 hectares (800 acres) of agricultural land on the slopes of the colony’s

Figure 48. View of the Rumicolca aqueduct at Pikillacta. The aqueduct flowed along the top of the long wall shown in the center of the photograph. The Inca later made the two ruptures in the center of the wall in order to create a gateway. Photo: Gordon F. McEwan.

more than 7 m (23 ft.) in height, maintaining water elevation across low points in the landscape. The principal agricultural land that Canal A fed is upstream of the aqueducts, indicating that the main function of the aqueducts was to transport water for urban consumption and impress visitors with their massive structures. The Wari also constructed agricultural terraces in great numbers throughout the farmed area. This modification of the mountain slopes into a series of platforms resembling giant staircases created a microenvironment ideal for crop growth. Each terrace was constructed by building a long stone wall—often more than 1 m (3 ft.) high and tens or hundreds of meters long—behind which gravel was laid. Soil from above was then pulled down to create a series of flat platforms on what was once a steep slope. Terracing provides several benefits, including moisture retention without inundation, prevention of soil erosion, and adequate space to expand agricultural production. Water is brought to the terrace surface by canals fed from springs, rivers, or reservoirs. Several reservoirs also graced the Wari irrigation system in the Lucre Basin. The three principal reservoirs associated with the largest canals could store 225 to 230 cubic meters (294 to 300 cubic yards) of water each, and one had a stone-paved floor and an outlet measur-

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T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

Figure 49. View of Cerro Baúl, facing south. Photo: Patrick Ryan Williams.

three principal hilltop settlements: sites on Cerros Baúl, Mejía, and nearby Petroglifo.39 Another branch of this canal reached 6 km (3.7 mi.) on the slopes above the Quebrada Cocotea (a quebrada is a ravine) to irrigate up to 150 hectares (370 acres). Because both canals followed the contour of the slope in sections and flowed down the tops of ridges in others, the Wari were forced to invent ingen­ ious ways of managing the force of the water. They created broad, deep, stone-lined segments (which reduce the drag on water movement) to keep large quantities of water flowing along the low (1 percent) grade of the contour canals, and they made mountain road-like switchbacks and stone steps to slow the water as it flowed down the steeper grade (5 percent) ridgetop canals. Wari engineers in Moquegua also built at least one massive aqueduct, at El Paso, to transport water across mountain passes. Several smaller aqueducts were also constructed. The El Paso aqueduct was destroyed by the construction of a colonial road, later a highway, but footings on one side were preserved. The aqueduct, 6 to 10 m (20 to 33 ft.) in height, would have spanned some 50 m (165 ft.). Wari terracing in Moquegua, though heavily eroded from seismic activity and

occasional wet season downpours,40 is still preserved on the slopes of Cerros Baúl, Mejía, and Petroglifo. Archaeological survey data suggest that the abandonment of the settlement in Moquegua also included the agricultural fields around Cerros Baúl and Mejía and on the slopes of Quebrada Cocotea. But the upper part of the Wari agricultural system was used by later peoples, including the Inca, and is still in use today. Wari waterworks in the Moquegua Valley created the region’s first intervalley canal, bringing water from the Torata River across the intermontane divide and into the drainage basin of the Quebrada Cocotea and the Tumilaca River. Unprecedented at its time, the extent of this system would not be matched until the Inca arrived in the Moquegua Valley and transformed the agricultural landscape once again.41 In fact, the scale of Wari water management—which involved constructing and maintaining canals capable of carrying 1,000 liters (265 gal.) per second—would not be surpassed in the Moquegua Valley until present-day national irrigation projects. Most modern canal systems transmit 75 to 150 liters (20 to 40 gal.) per second. The Wari operated at a different scale, demonstrating a mastery over water and landscape unequaled even today.

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Figure 50. Map of the canal system at Cerro Baúl. Map: Patrick Ryan Williams.

Ancient cultivation Architecture

Cerro Petroglifo

Canal 100 m contour Agricultural terrace

Cerro Mejía

Wari Canal

17.10° S

El Paso

Cerro Baúl 17.12° S

N

70.87° W

Similar Wari waterworks and agricultural transformations spread across the Peruvian highlands. At Viracochapampa, John Topic notes the existence of a canal entering the city that connects to an earthen aqueduct at La Cuchilla, 5 km (3 mi.) distant.42 This aqueduct is 800 m (0.5 mi.) long with a height of 6 to 10 m. Topic suggests, given the steep slope of 4 percent between the aqueduct and Viracochapampa, that a high-pressure water system to feed the city’s canals may have been the intention. He observes, though, that the site was never finished and the canal was never put into operation. Katharina Schreiber argues that, at Jincamocco, agricultural terracing was introduced during the first phase of Wari occupation, around AD 700.43 This transformation profoundly altered the landscape, creating an environment in which maize

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600 meters

70.85° W

agriculture, previously unsustainable at the region’s altitude, could flourish. The story of Wari skills as the masters of water manipulation and as landscape sculptors is repeated throughout the valleys of Peru’s highlands. The Wari truly changed the world as they and the peoples they conquered knew it. Transformation of agrarian landscapes was not all for show, of course. Wari agricultural technology—high-elevation canals and irrigated, terraced mountainsides—proved to be adaptive. One important benefit was to situate fields, previously located at lower altitudes, much closer to water sources. The empire expanded in a time of climatic variability, with rainfall amounts varying substantially over decades. In fact, during the initial expansion beyond the Wari heartland (AD 560–90), a drought characterized by 30 percent less

T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

rainfall than the long-term norm apparently ravaged the Andes.44 In Moquegua, agricultural fields closer to the sources of water running through mountain rivers were more than twice as efficient in water use than lower valley agriculture.45 Such efficiency occurs because high-elevation terraced agriculture loses less water to evaporation and seepage since the water does not have to travel tens or hundreds of kilometers to the distant lower valley fields. Likewise, the terracing technology the Wari introduced conserved soil moisture behind stone walls in a way that normal fields do not. Wari hydraulic technology, involving canal design and agricultural engineering, transformed landscapes in both aesthetic and functional terms. Interpreting the Wari Built Environment The Wari built environment also reflects the empire’s ideology of expansion and conception of its place in the cosmos. Wari elites strategically positioned themselves as intermediaries with the supernatural by usurping sacred places in the environment.46 They illustrated their control over life-giving water, mediated at least at Cerro Baúl through their interaction with the ancestral mountain spirits (apu) of local peoples, by means of canal construction and irrigation. Their radical alteration of the landscape they inhabited had major repercussions for local populations. Wari lords manipulated elevation and architecture to mimic the cosmological movement of water,47 orienting both their architecture and their rituals (performed at sacred places in the landscape) toward mountain peaks, the wellsprings of water and the homes of the apu. The vestiges of these actions include platform complexes situated to provide vistas of holy mountains at places like Cerro Baúl,48 as well as traditional ritual architecture built near huacas (landscape features of spiritual importance).49 Thus, not only did the Wari physically transform the world before the perhaps incredulous eyes of their conquered subjects, they also appear to have actively co-opted local ideologies and sacred places into imperial doctrine while introducing and implanting Wari belief systems. That is, instead of attempting to replace subject

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peoples’ existing beliefs with their own, the Wari may have incorporated such into a larger, logical narrative that supported the legitimacy of their conquest and naturalized their rule. The Inca Empire is known to have used this kind of incorporative technique, building on the long-standing, widespread tradition of reciprocity and mutual obligation—the social sacrament by which Andean communities literally lived and died—and using it to structure conquered communities’ relationships with the empire. Among the cultures of the ancient Andes, there was no sharp division between religion and the state (the head of state could also be the high priest), and thus no clear distinction between religious ritual and administration. Ritual was a technique employed in the exercise of administrative power. Pikillacta, the best-preserved provincial center, may reveal another way in which the Wari exercised power. Among the most sacred objects in the ancient Andes were the corpses of the dead—the ancestors. Many groups seem to have mummified their deceased leaders or to have taken other steps to preserve their bodies; some even made surrogate images. These ancestors were responsible for the water supply, land tenure rights, health, and fertility; they also provided oracular advice. Since these deceased individuals had usually been political leaders, their influence on the people was understood in terms of political authority. A priest spoke for each of the dead, who were consulted on all important matters, and rites were conducted to “wine, dine, praise, and reassure the ancestors.”50 The political power of a society could be severely damaged or even destroyed by loss of ancestral remains, and physical control of these remains allowed the exercise of enormous social power. Prestige and power could also be accrued through alliances with important and exalted lineages via marriage, adoption, or “discovery” of more ancient links to common ancestors. These kinship bonds engendered a set of reciprocal obligations and legitimized power relationships in a way that mere force of arms could not. By inserting themselves into the existing web of social relationships at the highest level, the Wari validated their

G ordon F. M c E wan and Patrick Ryan W illiams

rule as a natural consequence of social obligation. Furthermore, the rulers would take upon themselves the responsibility to sustain the cycle of life by caring for both the living and the dead.51 Perhaps Pikillacta and some of the other large Wari provincial centers can be best understood as administrative devices for the governance of the empire, places where the living and the dead could interact safely. These devices allowed the Wari to demonstrate to subject populations that their own familiar, local, and ancient beliefs justified Wari control, from which benefits must have flowed, whether to local leaders or more broadly. This is a much more efficient way to run an empire than by direct coercion. With kinship-based reciprocal obligations established, it became ideologically imperative for the conquered to cooperate for the greater good of all. After inserting themselves into the local governing lineages, the Wari would also have direct control of the ancestors’ remains. Thus there was the veiled physical threat to the subject populations’ immediate ancestors and through them to the continuing legitimacy of the locals’ land tenure and water rights. The actual operation of the Pikillacta complex can be viewed as a transformational device. The monument was composed of architectural spaces well suited for the safe storage of ancestors and as a theatrical setting for experiencing administrative rituals and feasts.

Individuals went there to receive their instructions as cogs in the vast imperial mechanism. They received their marching orders in a way that had a profound psychological impact. The experience included not only instructions about what was to be done from the practical point of view of imperial administration but also a powerful psychological message of the majesty of the empire and how the individual and his or her corporate group fit into the greater whole. The psychological impact was carefully calculated. With its white plaster coating, Pikillacta was an enormous, shining beacon on the landscape. As visitors approached and entered, they passed through a long, narrow avenue with high stone walls on either side. Because it was impossible to see out of the confines of the walled avenue, visitors immediately became disoriented. Escorted by a guide, they wound their way through a series of maze-like passages that took them into the heart of the monument. As they advanced, the walls rose higher around them and only the sky above and the path ahead were visible. The intended effect was sensory deprivation and the beginning of a transformation of mental state. Visitors found themselves helpless in the hands of their guide. After a long traverse of narrow corridors, the passageways suddenly delivered the visitor to the open court of a patio group (fig. 51). Here, too, the walls and floors were coated with white plaster, dazzling

Figure 51. Threedimensional reconstruction of the central sector of Pikillacta, ca. AD 700. Drawing: Gordon F. McEwan.

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T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

Figure 52 [124]. Tunic with stepped-cross and interlocked U-shaped motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 96.5 x 110.5 cm. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, M70.3.1. Digital image: © 2012 Museum Associates/LACMA. Licensed by Art Resource, NY.

in the bright Andean sun. It was impossible to see outside of the patio and all attention was therefore focused within. On the white stage provided by the plastered architecture, the visitor confronted the other participants in the event as well as the officiating Wari lords dressed in brilliantly colored tapestry-woven tunics and headgear (figs. 52, 53). Ancestral mummies and images brought from the nearby niched halls also participated in and oversaw the festivities.

The ceremonies took place, gifts and rewards were bestowed, cosmological order was reinforced, and instructions and reports were given, followed by feasting and heavy drinking. An altered state of consciousness was achieved. The impression of power, majesty, and mystery must have been overwhelming. Later, visitors were led back out of the complex by a guide and returned home profoundly impressed with their place within the new order and the power and majesty of the Wari lords.

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G ordon F. M c E wan and Patrick Ryan W illiams

Figure 53 [145]. Fourcornered hat with geo­ metric motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 13 x 18 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of George D. Pratt, 1933, 33.149.101. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

notes

1. W. Isbell 2008, 750. 2. Bragayrac Dávila 1991. 3. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002. 4. Cook 2001a. 5. Benavides Calle 1991. 6. W. Isbell et al. 1991. 7. W. Isbell and McEwan 1991. For the sake of consistency in this volume, the editor has adopted the dates AD 1–600 for the Early Intermediate Period and 600–1000 for the Middle Horizon. McEwan disagrees for reasons expressed in his recent article (McEwan 2012). He prefers the date ranges assigned by John Rowe (1966). 8. Anders 1991; W. Isbell 1977b; McEwan 2005c; Schreiber 1978. 9. McEwan 1991; McEwan 2005c. 10. J. Topic and T. Topic 1983. 11. McEwan 1991; McEwan and Couture 2005, 21–27; J. Topic 1991, 149. 12. McEwan and Couture 2005, 25. 13. Glowacki 1996. 14. Cook and Glowacki 2003; Glowacki 1996; Glowacki 2005b,

109–11; W. Isbell 1988; W. Isbell et al. 1991; McEwan 2005c. 15. Schreiber 1992, 257. 16. W. Isbell et al. 1991. 17. McEwan 2005c. 18. The contents and circumstances of this find were initially reported in Valcárcel 1933 and again in Trimborn and Vega 1935. 19. Cook 1992. 20. Ibid., 358. 21. Ibid., 360. 22. Julien 2000, 257. 23. Betanzos [1551] 1987, 50–53. 24. J. Topic and T. Topic 1983, 16. 25. Grieder et al. 1988. 26. Pozorski and Pozorski 1986. 27. J. Topic 1986. 28. Personal communication 2011. 29. Anders 1991, 170; McEwan 2005b, 158; McEwan 1991. 30. Harth-Terre 1959; Lanning 1967; Sanders 1973. 31. Anders 1991; Glowacki 1996; McEwan 2005c. 32. For tunics’ similar emphasis on the number four, see pp. 159–191,

“Tapestry-woven Tunics,” in this volume. 33. Cook 2001a; Schreiber 2005b. 34. Williams 2001. 35. Williams and Isla Cuadarado 2002. 36. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002. 37. McEwan 2005c. 38. Zegarra 2005. 39. Williams 2006. 40. Williams et al. 2005. 41. Williams 2006. 42. J. Topic 1991. 43. Schreiber 1992. 44. Shimada et al. 1991. 45. Williams 2003. 46. Glowacki and Malpass 2003; Schreiber 2005b; Williams and Nash 2006. 47. Glowacki and Malpass 2003; Williams and Nash 2006. 48. Williams and Nash 2006. 49. Schreiber 2005b. 50. Salomon 1995, 323. 51. McEwan 2005b, 149.

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T he Wari Built E nvironment: L andscape and A rchitecture of E mpire

Donna Nash

The Art of Feasting: Building an Empire with Food and Drink

Figure 54 [46]. The figure painted on this vessel wears a tunic with face-fret motif. Faceneck vessel with tapestry-woven tunic; ceramic and slip; 15.6 x 10 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C 54760. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

The earliest empire of the central Andes, Wari (AD 600–1000) extended its influence over hundreds of miles of the western watershed of South America. In several regions, the Wari built monumental administrative centers in subject territories using the architectural canons of the empire’s capital, located in Ayacucho (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”). Since Wari had faded away before European contact and no form of indigenous Andean writing has been deciphered,1 understanding how the empire managed its spectacular achievements is a challenge. Without historical records such as we have for the Romans, Han China, or the Inca, scholars must piece together evidence based on art, artifacts, site features, and architecture. More durable than textiles, metal, shell, or bone, pottery vessels are the predominant kind of object on which complex iconography occurs. These types of vessels are not widely distributed and most appear to have been used to serve or consume food and drink. Decorated ceramic containers are often found smashed in dense pit deposits, filling small rooms, or strewn across patio floors.2 Although they seem to have been shattered as offerings, analysis shows that many were used multiple times at festive gatherings before their ritual destruction. Wari vessels used to serve and drink chicha (native corn beer) exhibit elaborate decoration and have been found in palaces, plazas, temples, and tombs. Evidence for the production of fine pottery and the brewing of beer exists in or adjacent to elite dwellings. There are also indications that chicha was stored and perhaps consumed in Wari temples. Taken together, this evidence suggests that the ritual consumption of beer and special foods using decorated pottery was an important and

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frequent activity of Wari elites, including the leaders of the empire. These feasting activities brought powerful people together to share drink, food, and ritual in several settings; thus, feasting may have played a role in more than one of Wari’s fundamental institutions, serving as the crucial social glue that bound the empire together. Understanding Feasting Archaeologists and anthropologists refer to parties or celebrations as feasts. Modern societies mark many kinds of occasions with feasts: personal affairs such as birthdays, weddings, and funerals; events of national importance, including Thanksgiving or Independence Day; religious festivals, among them Christmas, Hanukkah, and Eid al-Fitr. All have specific customs. Such rich diversity surely existed in the past. Despite this variety, all festive gatherings share a significant feature: they bring people together and provide settings to make friends, meet future spouses, tell stories, discuss business, talk politics, and have a wide variety of other social interactions. This facet of feasts makes them an important aspect of ancient societies, perhaps dating back to Paleolithic times.3 Feasts can be self-perpetuating mechanisms for maintaining the relationships they establish; in many societies they create networks of mutual obligations between hosts and guests with far-reaching implications.4 In other words, feasting can be a significant institution that binds people together, defines their relationships, and drives economic production. Not all feasts have the same significance. The differences are clear in the materials that each leaves behind for the archaeologist. For instance, garbage from a White House state

dinner might include broken pieces of crystal wine glasses, porcelain plates marked with the presidential seal, bottles of wine, lost jewelry, and the remains of high-priced meats or small game birds. Unfortunately, plant waste from the meal would disappear. The backyard barbeque creates different traces: aluminum cans, plastic plates, cups, and bottles, perhaps the bones of low-cost cuts of meat. Using many lines of evidence archaeologists can often recognize these differences and even distinguish between events related to personal affairs versus those that were sponsored by large institutions such as the Wari Empire. To identify feasts, of course, a basic understanding of daily meals is needed5 since by definition feasts go beyond the typical daily meal in some way: the presence of more guests, lavish foods, ritual activities, or special displays.6 Feasts are ideal vehicles to build prestige and garner recognition. Feasts also can be significant social mechanisms for asserting power or effecting transformative change. Thus, anthropologists have defined the roles that feasts play in establishing distinctions between people (status, rank), accomplishing the goals of hosts, and indoctrinating guests into institutions (religious or secular). Feasting as a Social and Economic Institution Festive gatherings bring people together and provide opportunities for individuals, families, factions, communities, organized religious cults, and even state-level societies to further their social and political agendas. Ethnographies from many areas7 demonstrate that some groups strategically plan feasts and their hoped-for outcomes while others engage in the “sincere fiction of disinterested exchange.”8 In other words, some recognize feasting as a political and economic vehicle and overtly seek to manipulate it, with all participants being aware of their obligations and responsibilities. But other societies, our own included, stress attributes such as generosity and hospitality as the primary motivation. (Gifting is similarly regarded, with the attached obligations for a return attributed to good manners.) Regardless of the sentiment, feasting can be used to build significant social, political, and economic relationships in all societies.

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Feasts can be venues to foment solidarity, form or strengthen alliances, attract new followers, show off (aggrandize or demonstrate success), reaffirm the current hierarchy, or challenge the pecking order. Feasts can also garner loyalty and be viewed as favors and accompanied by gifts, which oblige repayment. None of these social acts are mutually exclusive and all can occur simultaneously.9 Feasts come in all sizes. Some are intimate, others are large. In fact, state-sponsored festivals (Independence Day, for example) can be opportune times to promote state agendas, demonstrate state success through pageantry, and reinforce state ideologies through ceremonies or performances. From a political perspective feasts are opportunities for people to assert power over others by creating obligations, winning the admiration of followers, or outcompeting rivals. Michael Dietler, who has studied feasting in ancient Europe and modern Africa, describes three types: empowering feasts, patron-role feasts, and diacritical feasts.10 The broadest category is the empowering feast because the relationship between participants is not fixed—hosts may become guests on the next occasion. Hosts of empowering feasts earn prestige and/or wealth. While both can be fleeting or marginal, in societies where prestige from hosting a feast confers decision-making power, hosts become competitive. In contrast, the participants of patron-role feasts have relatively fixed relationships. Leaders always play hosts and followers are always guests. Medieval European courts offer good examples; the royal couple always hosted their courtiers and this relationship came with well-defined privileges and responsibilities. Patron-role feasts are overt statements of the patron’s power over followers. The patron is generous and clients are loyal although revolts do occur. Empowering or patron-role feasts celebrated by an exclusive group to distinguish itself by using distinctive features—special foods, elaborate serving vessels, expensive wardrobe, or fancy locales—are termed diacritical feasts. Special credentials, manners, or tastes are required to obtain an invitation to such events, and the group may consist either of people of the same high rank competing for power or of a patron and highstatus followers.

Figure 55 [120]. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 110 x 110.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 64374. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Dietrich Graf.

Archaeological remains do not always reveal the subtle relationships between participants, but it is likely that most of the materials related to feasting in this catalogue were used during diacritical feasts. These objects were part of the symbol system that signaled the exclusive status of elite participants. In Wari society people wore their status and identity on their bodies in the form of fine textiles and ornaments, which were part of personal displays (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics,” and 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”). The most elaborate imagery on pottery occurs on figure effigies shown wearing tunics that match examples found archaeologically (figs. 54, 55). Intricately decorated vessels were

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special; archaeologically, they are restricted to elite dwellings and monumental precincts, where they are found with other rare, expensive items. Even the buildings where feasting took place were built by skilled masons and finished with decorative plaster. The investments people made in their clothing, other ornaments, special foods, fermented beverages, elaborate dining halls, as well as the expense of supporting staff and artisans who produced these items must have been worthwhile or the Wari elite would not have dedicated so many resources to feasting. In our prepackaged, catered world a host can decide at noon to throw a dinner party that evening. In traditional societies, however,

T he A rt of F easting : Building an E mpire with F ood and Drink

hosts must accumulate resources over time, sometimes years. The same is true for labor. For a small intimate affair the members of the household may manage, but large events require help from other relatives, close friends, followers, or hired staff. Sponsors may call in many personal favors to muster the cooking labor and ingredients, or they may require followers to make contributions. Planning is essential, especially if alcohol is served because traditional forms sour in just a few days. In some societies hosts pull together a few feasts over the course of their lives; other leaders are expected to arrange feasts on a regular basis.11 In these cases leaders usually have permanent preparation facilities, institutionalize the contributions expected from followers, and may resolve labor demands by having multiple wives,12 servants, or both. Feasting may seem frivolous, but many examples demonstrate that sponsoring a feast can create power and generate wealth. Ethnographic cases are so common and archaeological evidence is so prevalent that some scholars suggest that farming developed as a way of life from the desire to create the surpluses needed to reap the rewards of hosting a feast.13 Feasts can pay in ways that range from modest to extravagant. A few case studies demonstrate the gains to hosts. On the modest end of the scale are modern Andean labor exchanges between farming families, which are required for annual planting and harvesting.14 These events obligate the hosts to contribute labor to those who show up to work, and the meal serves as a thank you to engender continued good relations between the participants, who are of a relatively equal status.15 In the Andes people openly recognize that there are no free favors or meals. Obligations are purposely created and recreated. These investments pay off because they establish a support network vital to the survival of all participants. Community resources are often shared but the shares are not always equal. Among the Akha of Southeast Asia, a council of elders made all important village decisions and distributed land to community members.16 The elders formed and maintained factions, the most powerful of which dominated the coun-

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cil, through feasts. To join a powerful group an elder had to sponsor feasts and be a generous host to other faction members. Such feasts signaled group success and built relationships among prominent lineages. In this case, hosting feasts did not deliver solitary power but created alliances and gave elders a voice to advocate for their lineage. In the Philippines, chiefly leaders and up-and-coming rivals competed for followers by throwing lavish feasts that created strong ties among elites and indebted followers who could be called to contribute labor or resources for future agricultural work, warfare, or yet another competitive feast.17 Participants recognized the debts accrued by the host, who required help from their network of elite friends, kin, and followers to gather the feast’s resources. Elders purposely sponsored young, rising stars, wishing to obligate the newcomers; these young stars also profited since they needed the elders’ resources to compete. Thus, feasting created a complex web of debts and obligations by building alliances among communities; when mobilized, these alliances could amass large quantities of food and gifts, which funded the ongoing feasting competition.18 More important, the leader who attracted the largest group of followers held the advantage in military raids and could work large tracts of lands to produce food surpluses, both important sources of wealth before Spanish contact. Complex webs of debt relation are common and notation systems such as tokens or notched sticks are sometimes used to keep track of who owes what to whom.19 Among several African groups, kings and local leaders are expected to have special food and drink on hand to entertain notable guests and feed followers. In exchange, community members owe labor (working the leader’s lands), some form of tribute (raw or prepared foods), or both.20 Leaders need contributions to maintain their stores. Among the Méta of Cameroon, one village leader fed people when they worked his fields, but he was also expected to sponsor a community feast once a year to maintain the reputation as a generous chief.21 Exchanging food for labor is not the exclusive prerogative of leaders. Work feasts can draw together large work parties, sometimes

beyond one’s social network. Such events convert perishable foodstuffs to more durable goods such as religious buildings, wells, or canals. These investments may increase the economic distance between host and workerguests. Among the precolonial Samia of Kenya, for example, a wealthy individual staged a feast that put guests to work mining iron-rich hematite.22 The host then paid metalworkers to make iron hoes, a valuable commodity in the region. In this case no longterm obligation was established. The host and the guests part ways having made an equal exchange. Unlike the Méta case, no annual party created and renewed long-term obligations. The guests owed no tribute and there was no obligation on the host’s part to represent the group. The Méta example is a good model for understanding how leaders orchestrated labor projects,23 whereas the Akha and Philippine chiefdoms shed light on how alliances and networks of cooperative elites form through feasting. A brief review of Inca feasting will show that both were important in the Andes. Feasting among the Inca The Wari Empire was smaller than the later Inca Empire (1350–1532), which was the largest pre-Hispanic state in the New World, dominating nearly 2,500 miles of the Andes and incorporating parts of Argentina, Bolivia, Chile, Columbia, Ecuador, and Peru.24 Given the difference in time, there are undoubtedly important distinctions between the two, but artifacts exhibit similarities that suggest some continuities with earlier Wari practices. Figure 56. Pair of matched Inca wood keros (cups) with incised geometric motifs. Museo Inka, Cuzco. Following a common pattern, one member of the pair is smaller than the other; this may signify that the relationship between the two toasting parties was not equal. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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Many Spanish colonial documents focus on the activities of the Inca central government in Cuzco, the capital. They record elite Inca festivals in the annual religious cycle as well as special celebrations such as the ascensions or funerals of emperors, although the Spaniards did not directly observe many of these events. Exaggerations are likely and interpretations were skewed by the European observers’ feudal sensibilities. Historians discuss Inca feasts in terms of reciprocity, either between an Inca overlord and subordinate nobility, or between local lords and their followers. In his analysis of colonial sources, Thomas Cummins suggests that the Inca made a fundamental distinction between these two types of reciprocal relations.25 The first took the form of patron-role relations: the Inca feasted the subjugated lords and gave them token gifts in return for pledges of labor and resources. This contrasts with the empowering relations that local lords had with their followers in which the former feasted the latter with food and drink to obligate them to labor projects. Cummins suggests that the Inca were above reproach and became so powerful that they could flout their followers’ expectations, whereas local leaders always had to offer food and drink to access the labor of their followers. This distinction likely represents the difference between high and lesser nobles. Nevertheless, both types of feasting created unbalanced relationships that were essential to maintaining the empire. That is, the hosts (the Inca or the local lords) always received far more than their guests. Feasting paid more than it cost and kept followers indebted to their patrons. Scholars suggest that the Inca were building on long-standing Andean traditions. They used feasting and gifting to obligate foreign leaders, subjugated through conquest or political maneuvering. Special cups (keros) reportedly were used, often in matched pairs, to make chicha toasts that sealed agreements or alliances (fig. 56). For example, Pedro de Cieza de León, a colonial Spaniard, states that Cari, a leader of the Colla people of the Lake Titicaca region, and Viracocha Inca, an Inca emperor, celebrated their alliance by drink-

T he A rt of F easting : Building an E mpire with F ood and Drink

ing from a goblet that was taken to a “temple where such pledges between the Inca and lords were kept.”26 Inca royal lineages (panacas) apparently maintained solidarity with toasts of chicha made using matched pairs of keros. Upon arriving at the house of another panaca, they offered chicha in one cup while drinking from a matching cup, and they were met with the same from their high-status host.27 Paired cups were used in a symbolic way during rituals;28 these toasts mimicked the pledges between people but called upon supernatural beings to fulfill the needs of human supplicants. There are at least three such examples: the emperor toasted the sun, his deified ancestor, who legitimized imperial Inca control (fig. 57);29 warriors charged with cleansing Cuzco during an annual rite (the Situa ceremony) drank from one cup and threw a second cup into a river, perhaps as an offering to the river that carried “sin” out of the city;30 mourners lined up to honor a new ancestor with toasts during funerals (fig. 58).31 Thus, toasts, an aspect of feasting, were a ritualized way to create obligations, and cups symbolized these relationships in the Inca Empire.

Figure 57. The Inca emperor toasting the sun, his ancestor. An elite woman (perhaps the Inca queen) pours chicha into two additional cups, which she may use to toast the sun in turn. After Guaman Poma [1615] 2009, 190, figs. 246, 248. Figure 58. The Inca emperor toasting the mummy of another Inca emperor. The urn serves as a receptacle for the chicha “consumed” by the dead. Two Inca queens participate in the symbolic toasting ritual. After Guaman Poma [1615] 2009, 225, figs. 287, 289.

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The Inca sponsored the distribution of food surpluses through regional administrators to the general tax-paying public, which obligated them to perform labor (the medium for most tax payments). Perishable foods were transformed into monumental architecture, roads, prestige goods made by skilled artists, and agricultural infrastructure, including fields, terraces, and canals. This process may have involved enormous work feasts, but archaeological evidence for them has not been found and some chroniclers say that the Inca handed out raw foods during labor projects.32 Nevertheless the Inca economy was based on this kind of redistribution, which has been described as the “Inca mode of production.”33 Feasts accompanied many imperial events and celebrations. Some religious festivals were restricted to Inca of royal blood.34 Featuring the finest foods and service wares, they were held in special locations such as temples or palaces.35 During other annual events, highranking foreign nobles joined the Inca in feasts but likely were served with vessels of lower quality than their royal hosts. The state provided the lion’s share of the resources, but reportedly subordinates did make contribu-

wise, the lands devoted to the sun cult funded feasting during religious festivals. Therefore, in addition to losing lands, commoners also worked harder because they were required to contribute a turn of labor (m’ita), although they were fed while performing this service. Both state and temple celebrations used the same type of specialized labor (mamacona), comprising females trained as young girls (aqlla) to fulfill the duties of elite women. Cuzco and provincial capitals had facilities (aqllawasi) where this training occurred. Some aqlla received instruction to serve in temples, to sing the histories of Inca emperors, or to play musical instruments; most learned to weave fine textiles, to prepare food, and to brew chichi; mamacona provided lifelong service to the state with these skills.39 A few aqllawasi have been identified and provide reference points for distinguishing elite, statesponsored diacritical feasting.40 The variation and irregular distribution of Inca artifacts used during diacritical feasts41 exemplifies the patchiness of prestige goods in a complex empire. Wari artifacts also exhibit great variation and uneven distribution.

Figure 59 [33]. Cup-holding figure in tie-dyed tunic and four-cornered hat; ceramic and slip; 19.3 x 19.5 cm. Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins,” MRI-00176-01. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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tions to fund feasting.36 Festive celebrations must have been considered crucial to the intertwined domains of religion and governance as they were carried out both in the imperial heartland and in all the empire’s provinces.37 The demands of the feasting economy impacted every aspect of daily life: lands were taken from commoners; labor taxes were demanded from the general populace; artisans were required to make items used during feasting for the empire. In fact, some people’s lives were seemingly devoted to the feasting economy. When the Inca took control of a new region they subdivided community lands, allocating portions to the state and the sun cult, and the remainder to commoners. The emperor also had the prerogative to set aside land as an imperial estate, which eventually supported his lineage and the maintenance of his mummy.38 The produce from state lands went to state-sponsored labor projects, state officials, and any related feasting activity. Like-

Feasting among the Wari A great deal of what we know about the Wari can be linked to feasting or the production of prestige goods that were either gifted or displayed during festive gatherings. Diacritical feasting was practiced at most Wari sites, and Wari feasting wares are widely distributed. Many of these items are decorated in similar ways and likely communicated messages that tied feasting to ritual and the supernatural world. Understanding feasting requires multiple lines of evidence. the iconography of feasting.

It is fair to say that many fine Wari art works were on display at feasts as either fine decorated table and service wares42 or elaborate costumes; in some, Wari elites may represent themselves as hosts (fig. 59). Great effort went into making feasting wares, perhaps because they were a crucial aspect of display. The abstract icons that appear on tableware—cups and bowls— may have functioned in part as heraldry, identifying family, occupation, rank, title, or

T he A rt of F easting : Building an E mpire with F ood and Drink

Figure 61 [44]. Faceneck vessel with mutilated nose; ceramic and slip; 18.2 x 13.5 x 14.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49450. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

patron. Serving urns and faceneck jars carried elaborate state iconography43 surely designed to communicate particular messages to the guests, perhaps including the empire’s hierarchical organization. For example, the important front-facing staff deity is shown on very large Wari faceneck feasting jars and urns from Conchopata (see figs. 75a–f, 102)—as it is on Tiwanaku’s Gateway of the Sun (see fig. 6a)—at the center of a composition completed by a multitude of profile attendants, either axe-wielding sacrificers or winged figures who sometimes take on animal features and always carry a staff (see pp. 103–121, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”).44 In these scenes the frontal deity is visually more important than its companions in profile, and perhaps dominant over them.45 In feasting contexts these kinds of representations may have conveyed the ideal relationship between Wari patrons

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Figure 60 [26]. Cup with staff deity; ceramic and slip; 12.4 x 7.9 x 8.2 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19167. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Martin Franken.

and their followers, reminding participants of that relationship and of bonds of reciprocity. Staff deities also appear alone on jars, cups, or bowls (fig. 60); at times only the head is present, which may be a shorthand convention for the whole or could represent a different type of being.46 Such vessels may have reflected the relative position of the user or the roles of participants during toasting rituals. It is also possible that the vessels themselves were at times regarded as participants. Feasts were places where people interacted, and faceneck jars, which represent people, may have portrayed an absent sponsoring leader or a remembered ancestor. Some face­ neck jars exhibit life-like facial features whereas others are abstract and may have been identified by the combination of icons shown on their garments. If feasting vessels were regarded as honored participants, the

Figure 62 [6]. Urn with heads of mythical creatures, from Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 34 x 64 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-834. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

wealth of the feast was literally dispensed from their bodies. A number of other complex scenes and themes are illustrated on urns, and these seem to portray mythical creatures or episodes, or legendary actions that perhaps conveyed the ideals of elite Wari society, including military victories that legitimized royal power (see fig. 103). Some vessels depict vegetation that may have referenced a relationship between feasting rituals and nature’s fertility, a natural association. The variation in iconography suggests that feasting may have played a role in many different types of personal and seasonal celebrations. feasting ware .

Wari feasting wares were produced in a range of qualities, suggesting status differences among their owners, although variations are often subtle and all were made with great effort and skill. The most elaborate probably pertain to high-ranking officials of

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the central government (fig. 54) while less embellished objects were likely used by the local leaders of small groups (fig. 61). Evidence for Wari feast activity comes from conspicuous concentrations of decorated vessels,47 which take a number of forms.48 Urns (fig. 62), large faceneck jars (see, for example, fig. 198), and perhaps specially modeled vessels (see figs. 133, 137) were likely used as serving decanters for freshly fermented chicha, although some may have held foods such as rich stews. These dishes were not used behind the scenes but in the feasting area, where their elaborate decoration could be seen by guests. Tableware49 included cups (figs. 60, 63) and bowls (see fig. 108); such vessels are found in a variety of contexts, including tombs, but, again, clusters found together provide evidence of feasting. It is possible that double-spouted vessels (fig. 64) and modeled vessels with narrow spouts (figs. 65, 66), which come in a number of forms, also played a role during some feasts, but these

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Figure 63 [60]. Foot vessel; ceramic and slip; 11.7 x 12.1 cm. Museo Larco, Lima, ML018890. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 64 [51]. Doublespouted feline-head vessel; ceramic and slip; 18 x 16 x 13 cm. Niedersächsiches Landesmuseum, Hannover, I/10456. Image: © Landesmuseum Hannover.

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Figure 65 [65]. Vessel with head of mythical creature; ceramic and slip; 24.1 x 16.5 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Gift of Olive Bigelow by exchange, 1996.36. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012. All rights reserved. Figure 66 [62]. Vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”), from Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 18.3 x 17.3 x 15 cm. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, 26709. Image: courtesy the Penn Museum.

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ceramics would be very difficult to clean and thus may have been intended for a single use or to contain a special offering. Larger-thannormal cooking pots and specialized brewing wares were used to prepare feasts, but usually they were not decorated. At any given event several serving vessels may have been used or one may have been refilled several times. Nevertheless, serving vessel sizes suggest feasting took place at a number of different scales. At the upper end are the reconstructed urns from Pacheco, which could hold more than 200 liters (53 gallons) of beer (see figs. 1, 130). One faceneck jar has a 130 liter (34 gal.) capacity (see fig. 198). Smaller urns and faceneck jars in the exhibi-

tion would hold 80 liters (21 gal.) and 20 liters (5 gal.), respectively (see figs. 134–36). At the smallest scale is a modest faceneck jar (fig. 67), which holds a mere 1.5 liters (6 cups), hardly enough for a feast; it may represent a single serving. If that is the case, the large Pacheco urns held chicha for around 135 people and the large faceneck jar, enough for 85. Tableware also comes in a wide variety of sizes, could be refilled, and may have been passed from person to person, which is typical of Andean drinking today. Like serving vessels, much tableware is high quality in manufacture and decoration. Cups are less common than bowls archaeologically, perhaps because eating and drinking are separate phases of

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Figure 67 [41]. Faceneck vessel with birds; ceramic and slip; 18.4 x 14.5 x 14.3 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49536. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY.

feasting in the Andes—food comes before drink—and participants could use bowls for both.50 High-ranking individuals may have used different vessels at each stage. Since cups are not present at all feasting locales, they may have been used for specific rituals rather than all types of feasts. Like Inca keros, some Wari vessels were made in pairs (see fig. 120) or matched sets of four cups (fig. 68);51 it is possible that sets held special significance and were required for some events. feasting spaces. Feasting took place primarily in the homes of leaders, but some specialized areas adjacent to leaders’ homes have also been identified.52 The latter appear to be within elite precincts at Wari sites. Feasting spaces, which vary in size and lavishness, usually contain the remains of smashed serving wares, smashed tableware, or both and

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often are accompanied by elite ornaments or other prestige goods. Feasts were held in house patios or plazas,53 which were designed with feasting in mind.54 At the Wari capital, the partially excavated Moraduchayoq compound is a walled complex containing several related elite families, each of which had its own patio group residence (fig. 69). The excavators concluded that Moraduchayoq was a residence and workspace for a group of mid-level administrators who held feasts as part of their managerial responsibilities.55 Remains of feasting wares and the detritus of everyday life were found in the patios of the dwelling units. The four larger patios are about 100 sq. m (1,075 sq. ft.) and may have been used to entertain some fifty guests comfortably.56 More elaborate feasting wares have been found at Conchopata, a site close to the capital,

Figure 68. A set of four matched cups found ritually smashed in the chicha brewery at Cerro Baúl. Photos: Patrick Ryan Williams.

where feasting plazas are larger (fig. 70). One, Plaza B, measures roughly 225 sq. m (2,400 sq. ft.) and the other, Plaza E, is 294 sq. m (3,164 sq. ft.). These feasting spaces each had a large urn embedded in the floor, presumably for serving chicha. Taking into account entrances and placement of the urns, a host could entertain around seventy-eight guests in Plaza B or eighty-nine in Plaza E. The urn found in Plaza E (fig. 62) has a capacity of 80 liters (21 gal.); we can infer that each guest drank approximately 0.92 liter (4 cups) of chicha or that the urn was refilled one or more times during the celebration.57 The latter seems the most likely. Large jars with chicha residue were recovered from one D-shaped temple at Conchopata,58 and fifteen similar jars, each of 95

Figure 69. Plan of the Moraduchayoq compound at the Wari capital. Based on W. Isbell et al. 1991, 37, fig. 19.

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liter (25 gal.) capacity, may have been stored in another such temple.59 It is unclear if drinking took place inside; the temple may have stored sacred chicha, or it may have been an offering. D-shaped temples at most sites are fairly small; thus, if feasting played a role in the temple institution the participants were an exclusive few. Evidence of feasting at Wari provincial sites is very similar to that from the Moraduchayoq compound: high concentrations of feasting wares occur in the patio group residences of elite leaders.60 In most instances, smashing the feasting wares appears to have been part of the festive ritual, but evidence of the meal’s preparation or the brewing of chicha is not commonly found. The rare exceptions are described below. feasting fare . Chicha, an alcoholic corn beer, was the most important element of a Wari feast. The dregs—dense deposits of molle seeds or pits—have been found at several Wari sites.61 Schinus molle, the Peruvian pepper tree, yields bright magenta berries (drupes) with a hard central pit; the berries taste like pepper and have pockets of sugary resin.62 Today in the Moquegua region of far southern Peru, molle-flavored chicha is made by briefly steeping the pepper seeds in hot water and adding the seed-free liquid to a boiling corn mash, which is later strained, cooled, and fermented. Evidence from Cerro Baúl, described below, suggests that the Wari used a very similar recipe—corn and molle—for their chicha.63 The Wari typically burned their garbage to a fine ash, but molle has been found near brewing areas and in a few cases feasting remains were left in place, perhaps as some form of ritual. At several sites camelid bones

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accompany smashed feasting wares, making it likely that feasters ate roasted llama or alpaca meat (whole ribs are common). This meat would have been a luxury to most people; data from modest houses suggest that commoners had very little access to meat.64 The remains of one feasting event, found in a patio of a palace at Cerro Baúl, a Wari administrative center located in the sierra of the Moquegua region in far southern Peru (fig. 71),65 appears to correspond with the abandonment of the elaborate dwelling. Analysis revealed that the festive meal consisted of vizcacha (the Andean hare), deer, camelid (alpaca or llama), river shrimp, and at least nine types of fish from the Pacific Ocean.66

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Chemical analysis showed that some of the camelids ate a coastal diet,67 which may have come from more than 70 km (40 mi.) away; the ocean fish perhaps were a contribution from one of the guests. Plants are less durable and materials such as potatoes and other tubers rarely leave a trace. Nevertheless, evidence suggests that coca, quinoa, maca (a turniplike vegetable), mauka (a large tuber), beans, peanuts, and squash featured in Cerro Baúl feasting cuisine.68 preparing the feast. Several researchers have noted the absence of evidence for feast preparation near Wari feasting locales,69 but no elite compound has been excavated in

Figure 71. View of Cerro Baúl, a Wari administrative center located in Moquegua, Peru, on Wari’s southern frontier. The site was built on top of a natural mesa; given the mesa’s towering height and the lack of a water source on its summit, daily living was itself a form of aggrandizement. Photo: Donna Nash.

Figure 72. A tupu pin, used by women to fasten clothing, from the chicha brewery at Cerro Baúl. Photo: Cerro Baúl Project.

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its entirety. It is possible that large kitchens were located away from living quarters but still within these compounds.70 The possible distance between feasting locales and preparation areas may imply that some women of high status did not participate in preparing feast meals, thus freeing them to engage in the feast with their spouse as an equal cosponsor.71 It also may imply the existence of brewing and cooking specialists who had their own kitchens and living quarters. The best evidence for feast production comes from the large-scale brewery (chicheria) at Cerro Baúl, which had an estimated capacity of 1,800 liters (475 gal.).72 Several tupus, metal pins that elite women used to fasten their clothing (fig. 72), and spindle whorls used for spinning thread were found in the brewery, suggesting that, if this facility was run by specialists, they were women. The brewery consists of a patio-group like those used for elite dwellings: a trapezoidal patio surrounded by several rooms, one of them L-shaped (fig. 73). The long, western room was used to soak corn for sprouting and had five large slabs of volcanic stone (rhyolite) to grind the corn once it dried. The northern portion of the L-shaped room contained eight

or more deep pit hearths, each with a set of stones to support large brewing jars with conical bottoms. Molle was found near the hearths. The rest of the L-shaped room, now empty, may have been used for storage. The specific purpose of the southern room remains unclear. Fermentation occurred in the patio: along one wall were vessels sunken into the floor surface. Smaller-scale chicha production has been identified at Cerro Mejía, a large village near Cerro Baúl. On the summit of the hill in an elite patio-group residence (fig. 74), four hearths for boiling chicha and three large hearths for roasting meat were found in a single room flanking the patio. Brewing vessels are much smaller and there are no decorated serving wares. In contrast to Cerro Baúl, a major Wari provincial center, Cerro Mejía was a secondary center with elites of lower rank. This may explain the differences between the two feasting facilities: Cerro Baúl had a dedicated facility where a group of female specialists worked, while feasts on Cerro Mejía were prepared by members of the lower-ranking elite household. It also appears that elite household members prepared chicha at Conchopata. Although

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Figure 73. Plan of the chicha brewery in the elite precinct of Cerro Baúl. Illustration: Donna Nash after Cerro Baúl Project.

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no feast kitchen has been reported, there are indications that elite women made beer; they may have also made the large decorated vessels.73 One burial of a woman in her forties, placed under the floor in a residential room (labeled 205 on the plan reproduced in fig. 70), was associated with offerings that seem to span two small rooms (204 and 205). A clay cap covered the grave and the area was surrounded by pit offerings. The woman was placed in a stone-lined cist in a seated, flexed position with a decorated bowl inverted on her head and two faceneck jars positioned around her. The offerings in the pits and overlying the floor included camelid remains and bowls perhaps related to feasting, along with figurines,

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pottery-making tools, pigments, and large jars possibly used for the preparation, storage, and service of chicha. The vessels and other artifacts suggest the woman was of moderate status. Since many women at Conchopata were buried with men, investigators suggest the “brewer woman” was a specialist who made chicha for elite households.74 More research is needed to understand elite feasting practices and the personnel who made them possible, especially because it appears that different personnel took on this role, depending on the host’s rank in the imperial hierarchy. Interpreting Wari Feasts A substantial portion of the Wari economy was dedicated to feasting. Large quantities of corn, molle, and other resources went into making beer; special imported foods marked some feasts as high class; herd animals were dispatched to provide ample meat for many guests. Much material, skilled labor, and artistry went into making decorated serving and drinking wares as well as large brewing vats and fermentation jars. Also, gifting went along with feasting, not to mention elaborate personal displays in dress and ornamentation. Feasting was costly but, based on the grand achievements and long-lived success of the empire, it must have paid off in many ways. The feasts that have been recognized are predominantly elite gatherings. Even though we cannot describe the specific decisionmaking powers of Wari officials or list privileges of the elite, research shows that they had access to more resources and enjoyed a greater variety of foods in their diets.75 Their houses are bigger and they apparently could enlist people to help them build these elaborate dwellings. There were several elite ranks, scales of wealth, and sets of responsibilities, but it appears that all Wari officials engaged in feasting and many were called upon to host these diacritical affairs. Maintaining or improving the position of the family and its status in state operations required the constant management of resources both for feasts and gifts. Subordinates needed to be looked after, equals were entertained, and resources may have been requested by superiors for the more elaborate events hosted

in the royal palaces of the capital. Resources and gifts that passed between individuals may have been viewed through an ideology of generosity but, based on sentiments held by modern Andeans, such exchanges were likely carefully tracked and overtly manipulated. It is possible that khipus (see fig. 180; see also [155], p. 276) or some other device was used to record contributions of different kinds and to monitor the obligations between parties. That these festive interactions were primarily set in elite dwellings demonstrates the prominence of the palace in the Wari Empire. Temples may have been another locale where

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feasting or symbolic toasting took place. In addition, at least at Conchopata, special areas (Plazas B and E) were designed for feasts and may have been dedicated to celebrations in the empire’s annual religious cycle. All these institutions brought elites together, fostering cooperation and alliances that produced a complex web of obligations among those in the imperial hierarchy. States and empires, like other types of societies, are made up of the relationships among people. For the ancient Wari Empire feasting appears to have been one significant way crucial relationships were created and maintained.

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Notes

1. The recording traditions of the Inca, both the khipu and histories reportedly documented on painted textiles (see Cobo [1653] 1979, 99), cannot be deciphered beyond notations of numerical data (see Quilter and Urton 2002; Urton 2003b) or have not been identified and were likely destroyed during the colonial era. A few Wari era khipu have been recovered from the coast (for example, Conklin 1982), but how they were used during Wari times remains unknown. 2. Cook 2004; Cook 2001a; Cook 1984–85. 3. Conkey 1980. 4. See Bray 2003b; Dietler and Hayden 2001a; Grignon 2001. 5. Nash 2010. 6. See Wiessner 2001. 7. For instance, the Philippines (Claver 1985), the northwest coast of North America (Perodie 2001), and Africa (Rehfisch 1987). 8. Bourdieu 1990, 112, cited in Dietler 2001, 76. 9. See Clarke 2001; Dietler 2001. 10. Dietler 2001; Dietler 1996. 11. Dillon 1990. 12. Dietler 2001; Junker and Niziolek 2010. 13. For instance, Bender 1978; Hayden 1995. 14. Meyerson 1990. 15. Mayer 2002. 16. Clarke 2001. 17. Junker and Niziolek 2010. 18. See also Firth 1983. 19. Hayden 2001. 20. Dietler 2001; Dillon 1990. 21. Dillon 1990. 22. Dietler and Herbich 2001. 23. Nash 2010. 24. D’Altroy 2002. 25. Cummins 2002. 26. Cieza de León [1553] 1959, 220. 27. Betanzos [1576] 1996, 67. 28. Vega [1609] 1966, 363–65. 29. See Guaman Poma [1615] 2009, 190. 30. Betanzos [1576] 1996, 66–67. 31. See Guaman Poma [1615] 2009, 225. 32. See Cieza de León [1553] 1959, 163, also during military service, 61; Nash 2010. 33. Godelier 1977b.

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34. For example, Cobo [1653] 1990, 151–53. These exclusive events appear to be related to ancestor worship; Inca of royal blood, considered “children of the sun,” worshiped their ancestor, the sun. 35. See Morris 2004. 36. Betanzos [1576] 1996, 54–55. 37. D’Altroy 2002. 38. Inca queens also owned estates to support their mummy cults, and estates might be rewarded to other members of the royal family (Betanzos [1576] 1996). 39. Not all mamacona remained in the aqllawasi. Many were matched with elite men in marriage, some joined the emperor’s retinue of wives, others worked in the royal estates (Betanzos [1576] 1996, 78), and a few of royal blood served in the temples of the sun around the empire. 40. Morris and Thompson 1985. The scale of feast preparation facilities at Huánuco Pampa indicates that massive groups were not fed in the site’s public plaza. Instead the aqllawasi likely supplied the diacritical feasts taking place between Inca officials and local leaders (see Nash forthcoming). 41. Hyslop 1993. 42. See Cook and Glowacki 2003. 43. Compare the feasting urn area BC-B at Conchopata, W. Isbell 2007. 44. Cook 1994; Cook 1983. 45. Ibid. 46. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2006. 47. W. Isbell 1977b. 48. Cook and Glowacki 2003. 49. As far as we know, the Wari had no tables but likely sat on benches or on the floor during feasts. Nevertheless this term communicates the appropriate type of vessel. 50. Cook and Glowacki 2003. 51. Williams et al. 2008. 52. For instance, Brewster-Wray 1983; Green and Goldstein 2010; W. Isbell 2007; W. Isbell 2001; W. Isbell et al. 1991; Moseley et al. 2005; Nash 2010.

53. Wari patios are spaces circumscribed by rooms, whereas plazas can be walled spaces in monumental complexes that are not directly accessible from the surrounding rooms. The term plaza can also be used to describe a more open space surrounded by buildings in a larger community context. Both are typically open to the sky with no roof. 54. Nash 2010. 55. W. Isbell et al. 1991. 56. I calculated that during any celebration people would not stand for the entire affair but would sit on a bench or the floor. Since a seated person occupies a space of about 60 x 60 cm (24 x 24 in.), the maximum number in a 100 sq. m (1,075 sq. ft.) space would be around 165. But this would leave no space to move. If, however, the central space is left open as a performance and serving space, and guests lined the walls, up to 50 could sit comfortably, allowing 10 cm (4 in.) between people to avoid “knocking knees” and unimpeded access to the door. All other estimates provided here are based on the latter configuration. Although other seating arrangements may have been used, the presence of benches along walls in some patios and plazas supports the one suggested here, which provides a relative measure of the differences in group size. 57. Some data from the Andes suggest that women may not have consumed as much chicha as men (e.g. Hastorf 1991). But, given vessels depicting females who may be hostesses (see Moseley et al. 2005), it is likely that elite women partook in at least some drinking ceremonies. Although all guests may not have participated in the drinking aspects of the feast, it remains probable that the urn was filled several times over the course of a festive gathering, perhaps with great fanfare and display. 58. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2002. 59. W. Isbell 2007. 60. For example, Glowacki 2002 (Cotocotuyoq); Glowacki 2005c (Pikillacta); Nash 2010 (Cerro Baúl). 61. Moseley et al. 2005 (Cerro Baúl); Green and Goldstein 2010 (Cerro Trapiche); Sayre and Whitehead 2003 (Conchopata); Tung and Owen 2006 (Beringa).

62. Some bottles of mixed, colored peppercorns sold in markets today contain molle seeds. 63. Chicha-making experiments were conducted in Moquegua with recent Aymara-speaking migrants from Carumas, a highland community in the Department of Moquegua. These women made several types of chicha in ceramic vessels so that the resulting fragments could be used to run chemical comparisons with materials from the brewery on Cerro Baúl. This chemical analysis is ongoing. 64. Moseley et al. 2005; Nash 2010. 65. Moseley et al. 2005; Nash 2010; Nash and Williams 2005. 66. DeFrance forthcoming. 67. Thornton et al. 2011. 68. Williams et al. 2008. 69. For instance, W. Isbell et al. 1991 (Moraduchayoq); Nash 2010 (Cerro Baúl). 70. See Morris 2004. 71. See Seville 2001, 401 for a representation of an elite Wari woman who holds a drinking cup. Her posture may not be one of service because the cup is not outstretched as if being offered to another. 72. Moseley et al. 2005. 73. W. Isbell 2007. 74. Isbell and Groleau 2010. 75. Moseley et al. 2005; Nash 2010.

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Anita G. Cook

The Coming of the Staff Deity

Figure 75c (detail) [2]. Fragment of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 43 x 39.5 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1778. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Wari, the first empire known in the Andes prior to the Inca, left its signature both on the landscape in the form of imperial architecture and on a multitude of artifacts that often display staff deity iconography, which dominated politico-religious rituals for the latter half of the first millennium AD (figs. 75a–f). The main protagonist of this iconography is a front-facing deity who grasps staffs or other implements and sometimes appears with companions that include a winged, staffbearing attendant and a sacrificer. In Wari art, the most complex and complete configurations of these figures, which I collectively refer to as the staff deity complex, is preserved on ceramics and textiles. But the figures also appear on ornaments made of gold, silver, or semi-precious inlay; carved stone, wood, and bone objects; and musical instruments (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”; pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”; and pp. 233–41, “Figurine Offerings”). In the lack of any known form of alphabetic writing, the characters of the staff deity complex were part of a communication system that also included a khipu (recording device of knotted strings; see fig. 180 and [155], p. 276) and many other motifs, some of them geometric and abstract, that were likely meaningful. Thus, these elements serve as a portal into the past and a way to reconstruct and understand Wari’s cosmology, religion, and ideology. Before proceeding, it is useful to define these terms: cosmology, religion, and ideology. Cosmology, or worldview, explains how the world came into being, how it functions, and how people and cultures relate everyday events to causality.1 Religious practice involves particular rituals and beliefs; different religions may share a worldview and yet

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undertake distinct practices, as in the case of Christians, Jews, and Muslims. Ideologies legitimate the structure of human power by invoking both cosmological and religious principles. Cosmology, then, is a framework for understanding the world that people within a historical tradition, such as the Andes, broadly share and put into practice at different times, in different places, and in different ways through religion and ideology. Ideology is usually defined in political terms as the set of views or ideas that one social group or class attempts to impose on another and, in this Marxist sense, includes strategies of dominance whereby elites attempt to mask reality for the masses. This notion has shaped modern understanding of the staff deity complex and has led to the interpretation that the complex functioned first and foremost as a symbol of human power that affirmed the authority of Wari elites. This reading is based on two facts: the staff deity complex was at the core of Wari’s state religion, and it appears on elite objects in compositions that seem to convey hierarchy. While recognizing that the complex, like a logo or flag, communicated a politico-religious message across the many linguistic boundaries and ethnic groups of the Wari Empire, this essay takes an alternative approach to interpretation by relating the staff deity to native cosmological concepts that have not so far been extensively considered. These concepts are recorded in colonial and ethnographic sources—respectively, documents created shortly after the Spanish conquest or studies of modern Andean native beliefs by anthropologists. Although these sources date from a time long after the empire had disappeared, they may allow us to draw closer to

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Four types of human faces occur on faceneck vessels from a shattered offering found at Conchopata. The vessels are human effigies wearing tunics with the image of the staff deity with its winged staff-bearing attendants in profile. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho. Photos: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar. Figures 75a, 75b [3]. Two views of a fragment of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 44.5 x 48 cm. MHRA1779. Figure 75c [2]. Fragment of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 43 x 39.5 cm. MHRA1778. Figure 75d [4]. Fragment of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 53 x 48 cm. MHRA1784.

Wari’s understanding of the world since they reveal a native theory of knowledge, one that honors the existence of otherworldly spirit beings to which humans make offerings in order to establish reciprocal relationships. Social and biological reproduction is made possible through these “payments” made in exchange for a life-giving, generative landscape on which people depend for their subsistence.2 For the Wari such offerings ranged from shells, feathers, and plants to the blood spilled during rituals of sacrifice that claimed the lives of animals and, on certain occasions, humans. The Staff Deity Complex As the introductory essay in this volume explains, the staff deity complex was the most important supernatural imagery depicted artistically during the Middle Horizon (600– 1000), and it was central to religious experience both among the Wari and their great contemporaries, the Tiwanaku, whose homeland was located on the Bolivian altiplano (high plateau), far to the south of Wari territory. In

Figure 75e. Reconstruction drawing of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata. Drawing: Jeffrey Splitstoser.

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Wari art, members of the staff deity complex were generally depicted in one of three postures: full frontal (the staff deity), full profile (the staff-bearing, winged attendants), and partial profile (the sacrificer). All three can also be represented as a disembodied head, which appears to stand for the whole. These postures, along with figure size, position, and attire, have led to the interpretation that the staff deity complex encodes a hierarchy of importance, status, and authority, with the staff deity at the pinnacle. Certain decidedly non-naturalistic traits seem to mark the characters of the staff deity complex as supernatural, including vertically divided eyes,3 traits drawn from the animal world, heads or headdresses that emanate a halo-like set of appendages, and streamers emerging from mouths, belts, chins, and feet. At least in tapestry-woven tunics and ceramics, depictions of the members of the staff deity complex display remarkable consistency in how body parts are shaped and assembled to create the final figure. In ceramics, this treatment suggests the widespread use of de-

the staff deity ( principal huaca).

Figure 75f. Reconstruction of a faceneck vessel from Conchopata. Photo: Anita G. Cook.

sign templates for constituent body parts that could be neatly assembled to create the whole. Yet the accouterments depicted—headdresses, appendages, streamers, and other decorative elements that dress and give identity to each figure—are more unpredictable and suggest that this aspect of subject matter was left in the hands of specialists to paint without the use of templates.

Figure 76a. Fragment of a large, shattered ceramic urn from Conchopata. Here the staff deity appears with a sacrificer. Provenience: EA2, Locus 903, Special Find 35A. Photo: courtesy Conchopata Archaeological Project.

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When the staff deity appears in multifigure compositions in Wari art, it sometimes takes center stage, as it does in Tiwanaku art (see figs. 6a, 6b). More often, it is shown in isolation (see fig. 122). Its generic traits, in addition to the full frontal stance, are elaborate garments and ornaments of various kinds, including leg and arm bands that closely resemble silver or gold examples found archaeologically. Its head is surrounded or partially framed by a band, usually decorated with interlocking frets, that radiates appendages or streamers tipped with various motifs. Facial features include a fanged mouth perhaps based on a predatory feline’s, vertically divided eyes, and a panel, often referred to as a tear band, that falls from the eye onto the cheek. To either side of its body it holds the staffs after which it is named; the staffs sometimes seem to be replaced by other kinds of implements, discussed below. A stepped pedestal that may represent a temple, a mountain, or both is also associated with Wari representations of the staff deity, although only rarely. In the past, the staff deity has been interpreted as a single divine entity and identified as a precursor to such Inca deities as Thunder, the Sun, or Viracocha, a creator god who was the loftiest of Inca divine beings.4 As a matter of convenience, this essay refers to the staff deity in the singular, but this terminology appears to be incorrect in several respects. In 1964, Dorothy Menzel identified two versions of the staff deity on large urns from Pacheco on

Figure 76b. Reconstruction drawing of an urn from Conchopata. Drawing: Anita G. Cook.

the south coast, based in part on differences in wardrobe: on the interiors of these vessels, a deity who wears a belted garment alternates with one clothed in an unbelted garment (see figs. 5a, 5b). The same difference appears in deity representations from Conchopata, a site close to the Wari capital in the highlands (figs. 76, 77).5 Beyond these distinctions, the staff deity appears in other iterations. For instance, the deities who wear belted garments in the Pacheco and Conchopata urns differ from one another in some respects, including the forms of their staffs, the appendages streaming from their heads, and the ornaments hanging from their belts. It is not clear whether these versions refer to a single deity whose traits changed somewhat through time and space,6

Figure 77a, 77b. The two types of staff deities that alternate on the exteriors of urns from Conchopata. Drawing: Jeffrey Splitstoser.

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a single deity depicted in different aspects, or multiple staff deities.7 Another caveat concerns the term “deity,” which, although used in this essay and throughout this catalogue, may not be an appropriate term for these formidable, frontal figures because it brings to mind a Greek-like pantheon and conjures a worldview radically different from what we know about Andean cosmology and how it was put into practice through religion. If there is an Andean corollary, it would appear to be huaca, which in Quechua—one of the major, ancient languages of the Andes—refers to a multiplicity of sacred forces, objects, or places: supernatural beings as well as unusually shaped stones, bodies of water, shrines, idols, images, and many

Figure 78a. Profile staff bearer on a fragment of an urn from Conchopata. Photo: courtesy Concho­ pata Archaeological Project.

other things. Imbued with camay, or life force, huacas held the potential of serving as oracles that spoke through intermediaries to living audiences.8 profile staff bearers. When they appear with the staff deity, profile staff bearers assume flanking, ancillary positions and thus have been interpreted as the deity’s attendants (fig. 75). They also appear in isolated contexts, such as on tapestry-woven tunics (see fig. 152) and ceramics (fig. 78, see also fig. 105), and as bodiless heads (see fig. 62). (On ceramics from Conchopata, their bodiless heads appear with a human figure shown either as a captive or wielding a knife, suggesting a narrative that cannot now be reconstructed because the Figure 78b. Profile staff bearers on fragments of urns from Conchopata. Photo: courtesy Concho­ pata Archaeological Project.

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ceramics were shattered and are fragmentary.) As their descriptive name implies, profile staff bearers carry a single staff, or sometimes a spear-thrower, to the front of their bodies, which are shown entirely in profile and with two legs often bent as though kneeling or running. A hallmark of this creature is the bird wing that sprouts from its back and a vertically divided eye, often with a pendant tear band or surrounded by an elaborate ornament. Like the staff deity, the attendants usually have ankle and wrist bands; apart from the belts that often encircle their waists, however, they do not appear to wear garments. Their headdresses are decorated with appendagelike elements tipped with a variety of motifs, some of which also occur on the staff deity’s head appendages. Profile staff bearers occur in upright or horizontal positions and in many different versions: 9 many have bird attributes in addition to their wings, while others appear to be based on animals, including camelids and felines, and even humans. sacrificers.

The third main character in the Wari supernatural universe is a sacrificer, the only member of the trio to be shown in threedimensional as well as two-dimensional forms (fig. 76).10 In two dimensions, this creature

appears in partial profile: it has a frontal torso from which two arms extend but a profile head and legs, which sometimes appear to be running. It, too, appears in different iterations, typically holding a knife or axe in one hand and a human trophy head or trophy body in the other; sometimes the trophy is attached to the end of a staff, as though animating it and giving it power. Sacrificers wear elaborate headdresses, belts, garments, and leg and arm bands. On very large ceremonial ceramics they appear with staff deities, but they are also depicted in isolation (see fig. 233). Many hybrids of the sacrificer and profile staff bearer exist, including in early, less well-known examples of Wari art, which displays experimentation in a wide variety of styles and imagery at the local level. These figures eventually coalesce and culminate in an artistic canon for a formal religion sometime after 750. Cosmology in the Andes An important cosmological principle among contemporary Quechua-speakers is the concept of “camay,” which refers to the idea of creation and implies the “energizing of extant matter.”11 (It contrasts to the Western notion that creation occurred ex nihilo, out of nothing.) This energy flows through a multitiered universe: Hanan Pacha, the upper world of future time and divinities; Kay Pacha, the present world of humans and other living beings; Uku Pacha, the lower or inside world, the place of the ancestors and the past.12 The flow of camay (energy) among these worlds allows for their reproduction. The amount of this energizing force is limited, and the ways in which it can be recycled vary. A myth from Huarochirí (inland from Lima) recorded in Quechua during the colonial period illustrates this point. Humans were originally immortal but they could only have two children; one of the huacas ate one of those children, leaving a single surviving child for each immortal couple. Even with one surviving child, the world became overpopulated with humans, causing food to be scarce, so they lived in misery and poverty. Eventually, people became mortal. While the consequences of this change are not spelled out in the Huarochirí myth,

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another myth from the central coast illustrates one aspect of this transition to mortality.13 In the central coast case, a poor woman with no children and nothing to eat asked the Sun to help her. Instead, or in response, he impregnated her. When she gave birth to a son, another huaca who was also a son of the Sun and thus a half-brother of the infant, became jealous. He murdered the infant and sowed the body parts into the earth. From the teeth grew maize, from the bones grew yucas (Manihot esculenta), and from the flesh grew fruits. Thus, the woman lost a son but had been given the plants that sustain human life. Andean peoples made sacrifices to maintain the reproductive capacity of their environment; sometimes (though not always) these sacrifices were of human life. Thus death is intimately linked to fertility and the flow of energy between worlds and between species. Ethnographies often mention death as movement between this world and another world, from which the deceased can continue actively to contribute to the well-being of the living.14 The three-tiered Andean cosmology forms a regenerative system in which time, energizing forces, and the generations recycle. The concept of transformation is key: energy continuously flows between tiers, plants and animals, and animate and inanimate objects. Mallqui, the Quechua term for “ancestor,” also means “sapling,” which underscores how the once-living generate new life. Death is necessary for renewal of the world. This concept is referred to below as the life-death continuum. The cycle of myths recorded in Huarochirí describe numerous examples of rituals relating to the impounding and releasing of irrigation water in gendered terms. These rites are usually expressed as conflicts over water in which women act as erotic sexual beings and use their wiles to seduce male deities in order to obtain water for their communities. Thus, water huacas are male while earth huacas are female—but the story does not end there. Women have the power and ritual obligation to impound water and avoid flooding, a metaphor for excessive male sexuality, and both a man and a woman are involved in rituals to release irrigation water. So gender complementarity and conflict are essential for renewal,

Figure 79. Stone tablet depicting a deity holding Strombus and Spondylus shells, from Chavín de Huántar. After J. Rowe 1962a, 12, fig. 11; drawing: Fred D. Ayres.

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with female sexuality often acting as the control on exuberant male sexuality.15 In the Andes, gender complementarity can reach well beyond the human body to include personified landscapes that have one or more genders.16 Two Quechua words help in understanding these ideas. Yanantin (to serve together) refers to two complementary parts, or two things that are both necessary. It can allude to men and women but also a pair of gloves or a pair of shoes; maleness is the complement of femaleness and the left is the complement of the right. In order to function properly, both are needed. Tinku denotes where things meet, join, or intersect to create a whole. While yanantin distinguishes the two complementary elements, tinku describes how they come together: two tributaries of a river, the medial line of the human body at which the two halves join, and the mingling of male and female elements. Creation and renewal take place where complementary forces come together—in human intercourse; in the union between mountain peaks, conceived as powerful masculine forces, and fertile flatter lands, the realm of the earth mother Pachamama; in the rain (semen) that falls from the sky to fertilize the womb of the earth.17 All these notions are expressions of an Andean concept referred to as dualism. In Andean relativistic thought, no person is entirely male or entirely female.18 In fact, there is a tension between the need to have two complementary parts (yanantin) and the urge for them to come together in union (tinku). While the complementary parts are conceived of as male and female, be they landforms or social groupings, one gender aspect can be emphasized over the other in dynamic interactions,19 and this is the necessary constant in renewal. In other words, the gendered elements are only effective when united. The most general principles of Andean cosmology, then, are complementarity between male and female forces, a balance in the flow of energy, and the need for reciprocal relationships, whether between men and women or people, plants, animals, and deities. These principles have deep and widespread roots, even in the Amazon, where contemporary natives still maintain extraordinary cosmolo-

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gies.20 Many believe that these basic principles date at least as far back into the past as Chavín de Huántar, an important temple site that functioned between 1200 and 500 BC and is known for its complex stone sculpture. One is the Tello Obelisk, a slender, tapering, foursided monument carved with a male cayman on one of its main faces and a female cayman on another; plants sprout from parts of their bodies.21 Another is a small stone plaque that depicts a deity with upturned mouth—the so-called Smiling God—who holds a Strombus (conch) shell in one hand and a Spondylus (thorny oyster) shell in the other; these shells are associated, respectively, with male and female principles (fig. 79). Finally, the Lanzón, a blade-shaped monument set within a cruciform chamber in one of Chavín’s temples, is often considered to represent an axis mundi, a vertical axis that connects different levels of the cosmos.22 These monuments provide an example of how art works may illustrate a complex cosmology involving the flow of energy through a multilayered universe, facilitated by the joining and balancing of male and female principles. Cosmological Principles in the Wari Staff Deity Complex the life - death continuum . Andean iconography very commonly features a disembodied trophy head. For instance, during the pre-Wari Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600), the arts of the Recuay culture of the north highlands,23 the north coast Moche, and the south coast

Figure 80. To the left of the main figure’s head on this bowl is a trophy head with plants sprouting from its mouth. Bowl with sacrificial ritualist; 180 BC–AD 500; Nasca; ceramic and pigment; 10.2 x 17.1 cm. The Art Institute of Chicago, Kate S. Buckingham Endowment, 1955.1934. Photo: The Art Institute of Chicago.

Nasca all depict decapitated human heads. In these cultures’ art severed heads and bodily orifices as well as staffs sprout a variety of things: among them, plants of various kinds; streamers or appendages—perhaps abstract representations of a vital force—that terminate in new life forms, including human beings; and serpents, including the amaru, a hybrid serpent-feline that today symbolizes the rainbow and water, and is closely associated with maize. These images seem to be inspired by the concept of a continuum in which life springs from death and particularly from the head, uma in Quechua, which also means “mountain top”—the sacred realm of life-giving deities known today as apus or wamani—and carries additional connotations of seniority, leadership, and power. Given these associations, it is no surprise that, in many Andean ethnographic studies, the head is identified as the most important part of the body and the repository of a person’s essence.24 This may be at least part of the reason why the members of the Wari staff deity complex are often represented by their heads alone, although whether they represent trophies is unknown. Donald Proulx addresses what he perceives as a link in Nasca iconography between the severed human head, concerned with “death/decapitation/blood,” and the germinating plant forms that emerge from the head, which embody “regeneration/rebirth/agricul-

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tural fertility” (fig. 80).25 In other words, heads were the locus of power and could assure successful harvests; indeed, Nasca trophy heads that germinate plants suggest the spring planting season while plants decorated with trophy head faces may refer to harvest. The Nasca and the Wari used distinct artistic conventions to express this life-death continuum,26 exemplifying how shared cosmology is expressed in slightly different ways at different times. For while Wari art also features severed heads, it adds an ambiguous design that can be interpreted as either a plant or human organs (the heart, lungs, and trachea), hereafter termed the sacrifice motif.27 The ambiguity may be intentional. This artistic evidence of trophy heads is supported by archaeological finds: actual decapitated bodies and caches of trophy heads have been recovered in excavations in Nasca territory.28 In Ayacucho, the Wari heartland, the ancients placed human trophy heads in temple foundations as early as the first millennium BC.29 In Wari contexts, such heads have been documented in ritually important locations at Conchopata30 and in an elite cemetery at Cotocotuyoq in the Huaro Valley, near Cuzco.31 There is plentiful evidence that the practice of taking human heads has even deeper roots in the Andes.32 During the Wari period, the interest in head taking is likely explained not only by ritual practices but also by emerging elites’ interest in empowering themselves, potentially by impersonating or imbuing themselves with camay, the energetic, creative life force of the cosmos. Trophy heads and trophy figures, often portrayed as captives, are prominent in the iconography of the staff deity complex, which, not surprisingly, appears to be associated with both life-giving and life-taking—the lifedeath continuum that generates renewal—and perhaps with the male-female gender complementarity essential to this renewal. Large ceremonial urns used to serve beverages or food are painted with iconography that links the staff deity alternatively with agricultural abundance and human sacrifice. The urns that demonstrate the staff deity’s connection to life-giving fecundity in the form of agricultural plants come from Pacheco, the site on

the south coast in the Nasca region; in these vessels, motifs associated with death and human sacrifice are entirely absent.33 The Pacheco vessels (see figs. 1, 5) were part of a huge (allegedly 3 ton) deposit of ceramics that were shattered in antiquity and buried; a handful have been reconstructed. Two versions of the staff deity alternate with one another on the interiors of several urns. Both versions are decorated with ears of maize, which tip the appendages that flow hair-like from their heads and additionally festoon the garment and the staff of one of the figure types. The two are distinguished in part by their garments and, based on this distinction in dress, they have often been interpreted as male and female, the male wearing a belted tunic and the female an unbelted dress along with a shoulder mantle or shawl. Although questions still remain about these identifications,34 the two may embody the gender complementarity discussed above. Whatever the case, it seems clear that they refer to Andean concepts concerning dualism. On the exterior of the Pacheco urns, the staff deity in the belted garment alternates with an image of the deity’s head. (The alternation in the color of the background—red behind the full-bodied deity and black behind the head—may encode an opposition that could refer to wet and dry seasons or day and night.) Other ceramics found in the Pacheco deposit also allude to abundance; they include many large urns painted with images of blossoming highland plants of different kinds (see figs. 130a, 130b) along with effigies of domesticated animals, particularly camelids, which were essential sources of protein and wealth (see figs. 137–39). Thus, the staff deity may also have had ties to animal fertility.35 The staff deity is connected more fully to both terms of the life-death continuum in the iconography of urns from Conchopata, the highland site; many of these vessels were also intentionally broken and buried. The urns frequently depict two different kinds of staff deities who, again, wear either a belted garment or an unbelted garment.36 On a few urns, both versions of the deity co-occur with imagery that refers to generative qualities, as at Pacheco: maize, cultivated plants, and the

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amaru (water serpent). On others, the two deities appear in separate scenes with sacrificers and carry a staff in each hand (figs. 76, 77; see also fig. 102).37 The lower end of one staff, carried in the proper left hand, has an elite human captive, hands bound behind its back, at its tip; the other staff terminates in an animal head with the sacrifice motif (the disembodied human heart, lungs, and trachea) emerging from its mouth. On these vessels, panels of face-fret motifs common in tapestry-woven tunics (see fig. 144) subdivide the figures into scenes, each perhaps addressing different stages or rituals of sacrifice. These urns, found in contexts that were radiocarbon dated to the tenth century, represent the final generations of the Wari empire,38 and their imagery has been interpreted as reflecting conflict that came about as Wari leaders tried to increase political control in the face of instability.39 However, a perspective that links these representations to principles of cosmology is vitally important. The sacrifice motif also appears on other Wari objects. One is a wood container carved in the shape of a winged figure that may wear a feline or fox mask and pelt; the sacrifice motif appears on its back (see fig. 234). A magnificently carved wooden mirror also displays a sacrificer, its belt formed by a bicephalic serpent that may represent the amaru; the sacrifice motif emerges from the mouth of each serpent and appears in more complete form in the rib cage of the small figure that dangles from one of the sacrificer’s staffs. From its upper reaches, this staff sprouts motifs that may represent foliage generated by the sacrifice (see fig. 206). A third example is seen on a tapestry-woven tunic with decapitated heads that emit butterflies; here the sacrifice motif alternates with a butterfly in the narrow bands along the tunic’s sides (fig. 81). Another example occurs on additional urns from Conchopata; the motif appears in the beak of a bird associated with the staff deity complex (fig. 82). Another indication of the staff deity’s role as the transformer who both destroys and gives life may come from the objects it holds in its outstretched hand, often the staffs that in ancient times were crucial symbols of both

Figure 81 [128]. Tunic with heads, insects, and heartlung-trachea motifs; cotton and camelid fiber; 101.6 x 105.4 cm. Private collection. Photo: Renée Comet Photography.

human and divine authority. So important to indigenous symbol systems are staffs that they remain strongly affiliated with leadership in contemporary native communities. For instance, today in some areas of the highlands, staffs are considered to be animate and endowed with special, sometimes terrible power.40 They are used in symbolic gestures that mark the passing of power from one authority figure to the next—a use that may be relevant to Wari elites, their actions sanctioned and de-

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fined by their relationship to the staff deity. In some Wari representations, however, the staffs may be replaced by either a spear-thrower or an agricultural tool, the Andean foot plow (chaquitalla). Both have a hook-like protrusion from the side. In the spear-thrower, the hook serves as a thumb rest; in the plow, a laborer puts a foot on the hook to push the tool into the earth (fig. 75c). In these different contexts and ways, then, the staff deity seems to be associated with

Figure 82. Reconstructed urn showing a mythical bird with the heartlung-trachea motif in its beak, from Conchopata. Provenience: EA79, Locus 1590, Special Find 1080. Photo: courtesy José Ochatoma Paravicino and Martha Cabrera Romero.

both the destruction of life and nature’s fertility. The deity thus may express the transformative capacity of sacrifice—the life-death continuum—and illustrate how life is nourished by sacrifice. The taking of trophy heads results in bloodletting that, in its turn, feeds the earth and allows life to regenerate. The head and internal organs, while indicative of death, also enable life. More important, each version of the staff deity embodies the transformative power of camay, the life force itself. other aspects of cosmology.

The elements at the tips of the appendages radiating from the staff deity’s head may also relate to cosmological principles. These extremely interesting terminus motifs vary somewhat from one representation to the next but frequently include the profile heads of felines (probably jaguars or pumas), feline-camelid hybrids, foxes, birds of prey, deer, a few other animal-like heads with distinct noses (perhaps including the bear),

Figure 83. The head of one of the deities on urns from Pacheco. Drawing: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, New York, Division of Anthropology, cat. 41.0/5314.

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and a peculiar frontal head that may represent the amaru, the serpent-like creature associated with water and maize. The heads often alternate with a variety of unidentified designs such as disks with a central dot or motifs that resemble feathers. For instance, moving in the clockwise direction from the center top of the head of the Pacheco deity who wears a belted garment (fig. 83; see also fig. 5), the first motif represents a “feather,” the next is an ear of maize, then a bird head, a feline head, maize and a bird again, the head of a serpent, and finally another bird and feline. The longereared profile heads atop the staff may represent foxes; they are similar to fox heads shown on whistles found at Conchopata. Scholars have so far offered no interpretation of these motifs, but information from ethnographic sources is suggestive: in these sources, felines—pumas and jaguars—fulfill the role of mediator between the Hanan Pacha, the upper world of divinities, and Uku Pacha, the underworld where the ancestors reside.41 The fox occupies a middle position, always subordinate to the puma, although foxes and pumas are often considered to be brothers. Raptors in modern lore are mediators between Kay Pacha, the present world, and Hanan Pacha.42 Deer are spirits of the mountain apus/ wamanis (deities); if killed, they need to be put to very good use. All these creatures, then, serve in mediating, communicator roles among opposing concepts; they transform and move generative forces among levels of the cosmos. Their presence on the staff deity’s head appendages and staffs may imply that the deity fulfilled similar functions. It is possible that the profile staff bearers, who serve as the deity’s attendants, refer to the same concepts since their heads and other traits vary among birds, felines, camelids, perhaps other animals, and humans.43 Perhaps they were also conceived as mediators between the staff deity and the human community. Other motifs that Wari artists employed are more difficult to interpret. Particularly common in staff deity imagery is a zigzag that often appears on chin bars, belts, headdress platforms, and staffs. The concept of camay may provide a useful way to think about this design, which potentially references move-

ment, flow, and the cycling of life force (including water) so central to biological and social regeneration. Even more speculatively, designs shown at specific points of physical articulation or joints, such as the jaw, neck, and waist, may refer to an animating force. Antecedents and Sources of the Staff Deity Complex As mentioned above, the staff deity and its profile attendants have traditionally been interpreted as a symbol of human authority, hierarchy, and power. The foregoing discussion highlights the cosmological beliefs that the staff deity complex may embody and that many cultures in the Andes may have shared over a period of some two millennia and that Wari shaped into a state religion. Each of these two very different perspectives, which are not mutually exclusive, recognizes the importance of earlier iconographic traditions in the evolution of the staff deity complex. As noted above, the staff deity complex appears in the art of both Wari and Tiwanaku, the latter famous for its stone carvings that include figural monuments as well as massive stone portals with decorated architraves or lintels. The Gateway of the Sun is among the most extensively carved of such architectural elements. It incorporates a large, centrally positioned staff deity executed in high relief; the figure stands on a stepped platform and is flanked on either side by three rows of smaller Figure 84. Yaya-Mama style tablet from Copacabana, Bolivia, 80–100 BC; stone; 40 x 32 x 3.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY.

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winged figures shown in profile and executed in lower relief. Beneath this ensemble is a meander that encloses slightly different versions of the staff deity’s head flanked at either end by a small human who wears a feline pelt and, like a sacrificer, grasps a human trophy head in one hand and a knife or trumpet in the other. At present, sufficient lines of evidence exist to dispel the old idea that the Wari version of the complex derives in a direct line from Tiwanaku.44 But early cultures in the south, some in Tiwanaku’s neighborhood, have remained the focus of attention in tracking the development of staff deity imagery. These iconographic traditions—recently dubbed the “Southern Andean Iconographic Series”—developed over the course of a millennium in the Lake Titicaca Basin, northern Chile, the far south coast of Peru, and elsewhere.45 In the Titicaca region, they include the imagery associated with a widespread phenomenon known as the Yaya-Mama Religious Tradition, a late, refined manifestation of which occurred at Pucara, now recognized as the place where a precocious synthesis of religious ideas emerged. The tradition was also important to the north Chilean people living in the desert oases at San Pedro de Atacama. the yaya- mama religious tradition.

The Yaya-Mama Religious Tradition, which existed from about 800 BC to AD 200/300 in the Lake Titicaca Basin, is characterized by ceremonial sunken-court architecture, specific ritual paraphernalia, and distinctive art.46 The term “Yaya-Mama” combines the Quechua words for father or man (yaya) and mother or woman (mama), and the tradition is named after a stone stela from Taraco, Peru, that features a male on one of its principal faces and a female on the other.47 These are some of the earliest examples of gendered figures in the region. Despite the highly variable nature of early Yaya-Mama iconography, which includes references to water and its denizens (fish, serpents, and toads), it incorporates traits that continue into later Pucara, Wari, and Tiwanaku art, including full-bodied frontal and profile figures (without staffs) as well as disembodied heads with appendages or streamers (fig. 84),

and a T-shaped eyebrow and nose. Yaya-Mama ceramics may provide an early occurrence of another important staff deity trait: the vertically divided eye with a tear band that descends from the eye onto the cheek.48 pucara .

Figure 85. Rectangular stone vessel from Pucara, Bolivia. After Chávez 2004, fig. 3.23; drawing: Sergio Chávez.

Figure 86. “Camelid Woman” or “Woman with Alpaca” depicted on ceramics from Pucara. After Chávez 2004, fig. 3.24a; drawing: Sergio Chávez. Figure 87. “Feline Man” depicted on ceramics from Pucara. After Chávez 2004, fig. 3.24b; drawing: Sergio Chávez.

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This important, mid-size polity of the northern Lake Titicaca Basin flowered between about 200 BC and AD 200/300. Its ritual architecture consists of stepped pyram­ idal platforms with sunken courts on their summits; its art, a late and extremely fine expression of the Yaya-Mama artistic tradition, essentially revolutionized imagery in the altiplano and introduced a few images that are pivotal antecedents of Wari and Tiwana­ ku art. Among them are a three-dimensional sculpture of a staff-carrying figure purportedly from the Pucara site itself;49 rectangular carved stone vessels50 and ceramics decorated with appendaged heads that resemble the heads of the later Wari and Tiwanaku staff deity (fig. 85);51 and a beautiful gold plume from the Cuzco region that features a felinelike figure with appendages emanating from its framed head.52 Pucara head appendages are often tipped with designs of various sorts, including profile animal heads; perhaps they have regenerative qualities. The vertically divided eye continues in Pucara ceramics and sculpture, as do disembodied heads.

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Pucara was also the place where gendered figures become fully developed, particularly in ceramics.53 These figures include a front-facing female who holds a staff in one hand and, in the other, a tether attached to an alpaca (fig. 86). (The staff appears to represent a distaff, an implement used when fiber is spun into yarn.) For this reason, she is known as “Camelid Woman” or “Woman with Alpaca.” She is also associated with plants. These conjunctions have prompted Sergio Chávez to identify her with agriculture, pastoralism, and abundance in general.54 As Chávez notes, in a general way—her frontality, outstretched arms, and staff—she seems to be a precedessor of the later staff deity, with significant differences. Another important Pucara persona is a male depicted with head and running legs in profile but torso in frontal view (fig. 87). Known as “Feline Man” after his fangs and the feline pelts that he sometimes wears, he, too, wields a staff in one of his outstretched hands. In the other, he clutches an axe or knife and a human trophy head or decapitated body. Several of Feline Man’s features—the partial profile stance, trophy, and axe—are components of the later Wari and Tiwanaku sacrificer.55 According to Chávez, the Feline Man is always depicted in pairs that either confront or seem to chase one another. These scenes may refer to tinku battles, a practice that survives today as

ritual battles that are underpinned by the idea of the merging of complementary opposites (the opponents) and a spilling of blood that produces fruitfulness of the earth and general fertility. Of course, as mentioned above, the term “tinku” also connotes the place where two complementary halves come together. Thus, the Pucara Camelid Woman and Feline Man may have relevance to the interpretation proposed here for later Middle Horizon iconography. The use of a design template for significant parts of the body in Pucara art seems apparent and is later employed in Wari iconography, as mentioned above.

early tiwanaku.

northern chile . San Pedro de Atacama in the Chilean desert was an important oasis center whose contacts with the Lake Titicaca area are evident in well-preserved burials that contain artifacts with iconography related to the staff deity complex that dates to both the Pucara and Wari-Tiwanaku time periods.56 Here burials included a rich array of wood snuff tablets, tubes, and spoons with incised and carved handles that depict three main figure types: staff deities, profile staff bearers, and sacrificers (figs. 88a, 88b). These objects were used in special medicinal and ritual practices involving the inhalation of mindaltering substances popular in the southern Andean region but far less evident in the archaeological remains within the Wari sphere.

other iconographic sources.

Figure 88a. Wood snuff tablet from San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. Photo: Constantino Manuel Torres. Figure 88b. Image that appears on the tablet from San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. After Sandweiss 1987, 217, fig. 1; courtesy Donna P. Torres.

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Recently, a number of remarkable tapestry-woven tunics have been recovered on the far south coast and add to a growing body of material that immediately predates the Middle Horizon.57 These tunics show a disembodied head with appendages that is very similar to that of the Wari and Tiwanaku staff deities. Radiocarbon dates and studies of the iconographic elements suggest that these textiles and other art works from the far south coast are probably early Tiwa­na­ ku in style. Thus, they fill a gap in the sequence between Pucara and the later Wari and Tiwanaku periods.58 It is evident that Wari also interacted with many contemporary cultures outside of the southern sphere; certainly the Wari capital was a nexus that drew craft specialists who brought with them knowledge of a wide array of art styles. The Wari also must have been aware of traditions that, by the time of its fluorescence, were part of an honored past. Some of these past and contemporary traditions may have influenced Wari’s decision to adopt staff deity imagery, and many are known or suspected to have contributed other elements to Wari art and architecture. During the Early Horizon (1000 BC–AD 1), for example, a front-facing staff-bearing deity and profile winged attendant figures appear in the monumental and

portable art of Chavín de Huántar, the important pre-Wari site in the northern Peruvian highlands discussed above (fig. 89). A contemporary of Chavín, the Paracas culture of Peru’s south coast was also likely a significant source of inspiration since the south coast is far closer to Wari’s heartland than any of the other regions mentioned here. Some possible Paracas antecedents to staff deity iconography Figure 89. The Raimondi Stone from Chavín de Huántar. The monument is carved in relief with an image of a staff-bearing supernatural; from its head flows an elaborate configuration of fanged heads conceptually similar to the Middle Horizon staff deity’s appendages. After Burger 1992, 175, fig. 176.

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include early Chavín-inspired staff deities and profile figures and the so-called Oculate Being, a mythical creature associated with human sacrifice whose frontal head radiates appendages (fig. 90). Several other groups developed during the following Early Intermediate Period, which preceded Wari’s rise. One of particular importance was the south coast Nasca, descendant of Paracas; it is known that the Nasca and the Wari had very close relations for several centuries around the dawn of the Middle Horizon and, aside from focus on trophy heads, Nasca iconography includes mythical beings with streamers that generate plants, animals, and human figures that may have informed the later Middle Horizon staff deity and its companions (fig. 80). Recent research reveals that Wari precedents may also be found in Recuay culture of the northern highlands; these include compositions that feature frontal figures whose heads sprout appendages and who are flanked by profile zoomorphic creatures.59 The north coast Moche, too, probably made contributions since Moche art had long featured a sacrificer who wields a knife in one hand and a trophy head in the other. Many scenes involving the life-death continuum occur in Moche iconography as do processions of various figures encountering a central lord. Also, murals at the Huaca de la Luna, one of the principal civic-ceremonial buildings in the Moche sphere, display a head with append­ages reminiscent of the Wari staff deity.60 There are also other, underresearched antecedents outside of the southern sphere, but these few examples serve to indicate that the staff deity complex seems to have emerged from many widespread roots. Most scholars agree that when the staff deity complex appears in the Wari region, it does so abruptly, in about 550–600. This early dating is confirmed by a set of unusual Conchopata urn fragments with staff deity complex iconography that, unlike anything else found in the Wari heartland, display a number of Pucara traits61 previously known only in the southern altiplano.62 These fragments offer evidence that the staff deity complex was fully developed in the Ayacucho region by at least the very early Middle Horizon,

Figure 90. The enormous eyes give this creature its name: the Oculate Being. Attenuated serpent-head appendages radiate from the edges of the mask. Oculate Being mask; 300 BC–AD 1; ceramic and resin-based paint; 23.6 x 22.5 x 13.2 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 2003.39.

and perhaps even by the end of the preceding Early Intermediate Period. The very large Conchopata jars depicting humans who wear tunics painted with staff deity iconography also likely date to the first epoch of the Middle Horizon, when Wari ritual practitioners and artists were experimenting with, selecting, and blending foreign religious concepts and iconography. (This dating is based on stylistic analysis rather than radiocarbon dates, which are not available for the context in which the jars were found.) In structure and layout, the imagery shown on these vessels is the closest known Wari parallel to the imagery on the Tiwanaku Gateway of the Sun,63 evidence that the two polities interacted. Aside from the staff deity, the vessels feature a mix of Wari and coastal Nasca designs, 64 including highly stylized versions of Nasca figures grasping trophy heads that hark back to Nasca trophy heads,65 two types of humpback animals executed in the Chakipampa style of the Wari heartland, and a design that may represent an imperial D-shaped temple (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).66 The fact that staff deity imagery is accompanied by local and coastal icons indicates a high degree of openness and experimentation during the stages when Wari religion was forming.

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Synthesis Why did the Wari develop an interest in the staff deities? Perhaps Wari leaders attempted to validate their rule by affiliating themselves with an honored past and with images and ideas that were widespread in the Andes at the time that they came to power. They were also intent on creating a state religion that would work at home and abroad. At the center of this religion was an innovative form of a staff deity who was tied to a concept of a cosmos sustained by reciprocity, balance, cooperation, and renewal that likely had been prominent in the Andes for centuries, if not millennia, before the Wari rose to power. The staff deity and its companions served to underscore relationships that allowed Andean people to rely on one another and to exchange goods and spouses among different ecological zones and along the vertical gradient of the highlands (see pp. 1–3, “Introduction”). Centuries later, the Inca, perhaps following in Wari’s footsteps, did the same.67 In synthesizing staff deity iconography, the Wari took account of sources from many different regions of the Andes. As the empire incorporated new areas, it transformed this iconography into a new visual paradigm. The iconography and cosmological concepts most likely took shape together, developing from an incipient period of multiethnic regionalism at the beginning of the Middle Horizon to an interregional understanding based on personified huacas responsible for the regeneration of life. Although the exact sequence in which important icons developed through time remains under study, it is known that, early in Wari’s development, the staff deity complex appeared at Conchopata on effigy jars decorated with individuals who wear tunics that show the staff deity and its attendants. The staff deity represents a foreign idiom in familiar terms. Over time the staff deity continued to appear on ceramics, both large ceremonial serving vessels and many kinds of smaller vessels, many used in official feasts68 at which Wari elites pursued their agendas with the local leaders (see pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting” and pp. 145–57, “Shattered Ceramics and Offerings”).

The other major medium in which complex-related figures appear is tapestry-woven cloth, especially tunics worn by elites, most likely gifts from the ruler and surely worn on special state occasions. With a few exceptions, the tunics’ iconographic repertoire is restricted to profile staff bearers and sacrificers. The absence of the staff deity from the tunics is curious. It may be, as Susan Bergh suggests elsewhere in the volume (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”), that by wearing the tunics Wari elites cast themselves as surrogates for the staff deity in some way; dressed

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in the tunics, they assumed the position of the staff deity flanked by the figures woven into the cloth. Or these elites may have fulfilled the roles of the winged staff bearers and sacrificers shown on their tunics and thus served as intermediaries between human communities and the staff deity, the powerful huaca suffused with camay and the awesome capacity to transform death into life. Eventually the tunics were buried with their owners, who at death became ancestors that, like the deity, were responsible for their descendants’ future prosperity.

Notes

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During the final stages of writing this article, John Topic graciously provided his intellectual acumen, insight, editing advice, and support in times of doubt, at the cost of many hours. It has been an exciting journey—thank you. I am also deeply indebted to Susan Bergh, who devoted much time to commenting and editing; our engagement with Wari iconography has only increased my respect for her knowledge and attention to detail. I also thank Tom Zuidema and his progeny, who planted the seeds, and the many colleagues who have given me the benefit of their insights over the years. I am responsible for content and any errors. 1. Flannery and Marcus 1996; J. Topic 1992; T. Topic and J. Topic 2009, 23–25. 2. For instance, Allen 2002; Delgado Sumar 1980; Earls and Silverblatt 1978. 3. Although the divided eye has been considered a supernatural trait, its significance remains unresolved. It often appears on human and hybid figures and deserves more careful study. 4. Demarest 1981; Menzel 1977; Menzel 1968; J. Rowe 1960b; J. Rowe 1946; Valcárcel 1959. 5. Cook 1984–85; Menzel 1977, 54; Menzel 1964, 19, 26. 6. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009; Menzel 1977; Menzel 1968; Menzel 1964. 7. Makowski Hanula 2009; Makowski Hanula 2002. 8. For instance, Curatola Petrocchi 2008; Gose 1996; J. Rowe 1946; Szeminski 1987; J. Topic 2008. 9. See Bergh 1999 for a comprehensive description of attendant variants in tapestry-woven tunics. No comparable classification is available for other media. 10. For instance, Cook 2001a; Cook 1983; Valcárcel 1959. 11. Salomon 1991, 26. 12. Anders 1986, 911; Delgado Sumar 1980; Earls and Silverblatt 1978; B. Isbell 1978, 207–14; Morisette and Racine 1973; Roe 2008; Urbano 1981; Urbano 1980; Urbano 1978; Valcárcel 1980, 78–79. 13. Calancha [1638] 1974–82. 14. Allen 2002; Glowacki and Malpass 2003; Gose 2008; Gose 1994. 15. B. Isbell 1997.

16. Bastien 1995; Classen 1993; Douglas 1996; Gose 1994; Rösing 2003, 101–7; Urton 1996. 17. J. Topic 2008; J. Topic et al. 2002. 18. Allen 2002, 180. 19. B. Isbell 1997. 20. For instance, Guss 1989; HughJones 1978; W. Isbell 1978; Roe 2008. 21. Burger 1992, fig. 141. 22. Ibid., figs. 126, 127, 140. 23. Lau 2011; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001, fig. 34. 24. Arnold and Hastorf 2008. 25. Ibid., 63; Proulx 1999. 26. Arnold and Hastorf 2008; Carmichael 1994; Franquemont et al. 1992; Proulx 1999. 27. Martha Cabrera Romero brought the interpretation of the motif as internal organs to my attention. 28. DeLeonardis 2000; Browne et al. 1993; Verano 1995. 29. Lumbreras 1981. 30. Andrushko and Bellifemine 2006; Tung et al. 2007; Tung and Knudson 2008. 31. Glowacki 2007. 32. In some instances, coastal mummy bundles encase only a human arm or leg; while not technically representing trophies, they may be substitutes for the whole body. 33. Recent excavations have revealed that Pacheco style (Robles Moqo) pottery was also produced at Conchopata; it is also known at Wari. 34. Menzel (1977, 54; 1964, 19, 26) and Lyon (1978) see gender distinctions in wardrobe. I have some reservations about this interpretation (Cook 2001b; Cook 1992) but believe that the pair embodies the Andean principle of duality. See Bergh 2009 for a discussion of pairs in textile imagery and Cook 1992 for a discussion of pairs in caches of figurines from Pikillacta. 35. Bergh, personal communication 2011. It may be worth noting that, on rare early examples of the staff deity, the band around its head is filled with S motifs that today symbolize fertility (B. Isbell 1978). 36. Knobloch fig. 102 in this volume is a more recent and accurate reconstruction drawing, based on more complete information. 37. Cook 1984–85. 38. W. Isbell 2001, fig, 28; W. Isbell and Cook 2002; W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009.

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39. Some suggest that a drought helped bring down the Wari empire. If so, Wari agriculture may have been threatened and the direct exploitation of adjacent areas may have become necessary. 40. For instance, B. Isbell 1978; Skar 1982. 41. B. Isbell 1978; Salomon and Urioste 1991; Urton 1985; Zuidema 1973. 42. B. Isbell 1978. 43. Bergh, personal communication, 2011. 44. Cook 1994; see overview by Janusek 2008. 45. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009. 46. Chávez 2004. 47. Ibid., 70–73; Janusek 2008, fig 3.8. 48. Chávez 2004, 90. 49. Young-Sánchez 2004d, figs. 3.9a,b. 50. Chávez 2004, fig. 3.23. 51. Chávez 2002, fig. 2.4g. 52. Young-Sánchez 2004b, 94–95; J. Rowe and Brandel 1976, pl. IV, figs. 15–19. It shares a number of traits, including posture, with figures from Chavín de Huántar. This figure’s face is reminiscent of south coast pre-Paracas Puerto Nuevo ceramic iconography (García 2010). 53. Chávez 2002. 54. Chávez 2004, 91. 55. Cook 1983. 56. For instance, Oakland 1992; Berenguer Rodríguez 2000. 57. Haeberli 2002; Young-Sánchez 2004d, figs. 1.9, 2.22, 2.26. 58. See Haeberli 2008, Haeberli 2001, and W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009 for discussions that relate the textiles to a provincial expression of the Pucara style. 59. Isbell 1991; Lau 2011. 60. Menzel 1977, 60–66. 61. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009, fig. 27. 62. Cook 1994, pls. 50–53, fig. 20; Cook 1983. 63. Cook 1984–85; W. Isbell and Cook 1987. 64. Cook 2001a; Cook 1994; Cook 1984–85; W. Isbell and Cook 1987. 65. Proulx 2001; Proulx 1999. 66. Cook 2001. 67. Cummins 2002. 68. Cook and Glowacki 2003.

Patricia J. Knobloch

Archives in Clay: The Styles and Stories of Wari Ceramic Artists

Figure 91 [64]. The chamber of this Atarco style vessel features both a humpback animal and a ventral animal. Vessel with feline head; ceramic and slip; 20.3 x 11.4 x 6.4 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Arthur M. Bullowa Bequest and Rogers Fund, 1996, 1996.290. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

Like most New World cultures, the Wari people never developed writing. Only a few oral legends survived as myths when the Spaniards arrived. They were curious about the vast Wari capital near Ayacucho, Peru, but never pursued stories of this lost culture. The massive fieldstone walls of this ancient city—its urban core covering nearly a square mile,1 as London did when the Romans walled it in—stood silent for centuries as looters and stonecutters harvested its remains. At the turn of the nineteenth century, Wari style pottery captured the attention of scholars, who began to resurrect these mysterious ancestors. This pottery reflects artistic affiliations with other ancient Andean societies from as far away as the Peruvian north highlands, the Bolivian altiplano (high plateau), and the desert oases of northern Chile. Potters created images of warriors, priests, and many high-ranking human figures, sometimes including well-attired women, as well as cultivated plants and wild animals (fig. 92). But overwhelmingly, these artisans honored their deities in both the imagery and the function of their pottery, which was used in celebrations of conquests and bountiful harvests, among other things. Creating and Recovering a Ceramic Legacy Many Wari objects made of fragile organic materials, including textiles, have perished in the rainy highland climate, but well-fired pots survived. Although tens of thousands of Wari urbanites must have created an enormous demand for cooking, eating, and storage vessels, very few actual workshops with kilns have been found. Yet the Wari capital is located near several clay resources.2 Clay is found in hard-packed layers and must first be pulverized into powder that, with the addition

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of water, makes a dough-like medium.3 Potters hand-formed vessel walls with flattened slabs or rolled out coils of clay that were then pressed into one another. The bodies of small and at least some very large vessels were then uniformly shaped using a tilla, which consists of two stacked plates: the vessel rested on the upper plate, which, like a potter’s wheel, was rotated by hand atop the lower plate. To shape and thin the walls of larger vessels, a stone anvil, its form resembling a cookie jar lid, was held against the vessel interior to support the clay wall while the exterior surface was pounded, either with a hand or perhaps a paddle. Surfaces were smoothed with stones and shards of ceramic with rounded, worn edges. Potters also used molds, most often to produce small figurines or the three-dimensional faces that often appear on the necks of jars.4 After vessel surfaces were prepared through polishing, they were decorated with pigments that were usually mineral based and applied with brushes of hair or plant fibers. A common practice was to outline colorful designs with fine black lines. Then polishing pebbles were again vigorously rubbed over the vessel’s surface to improve bonding of the pigment, provide a lustrous finish, and strengthen the surface by aligning the clay molecules. Finally, the vessel was fired, which fused the flat crystalline clay molecules into strong laminated layers.5 On the base, some vessels were marked with small, geometric “potters marks.”6 This term seems to be a misnomer, however, as such marks are too rare and too simple to correspond to a potentially large population of potters; the marks more likely record the vessel’s use at a special event. Perhaps because of the effort invested in their production, at least some broken vessels

and large niches in temple walls.8 Such tombs often received later, additional burials that damaged earlier grave goods, and they were also obvious to looters, both in antiquity and today. A millennium later, archaeologists began to retrieve what was left.

Figure 92 [34]. This figure has tupu pins at her shoulders. Female figure; ceramic and slip; H. 28.4 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8596. Image: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, Anthropology. Photo: Craig Chesek.

were cleverly repaired by drilling holes along fracture edges; the holes were used to lace the pieces back together. Wari pottery is found in graves, ceremonial offerings, and dumps of shards that may document, respectively, a person’s lifetime, a communal religious rite, or urban garbage disposal. The fine vessels in this catalogue derive from the first two contexts and many appear as though they were made yesterday. In a sense they were since many were locked away below the ground. Their condition also reflects circumstances of burial. Many are from coastal graves where sand packed easily around vessels; when discovered, the sand can be carefully brushed away without harm to the vessel. In the highlands, graves have been found beneath the floors of structures but they are rare.7 More often, Wari’s “urban” dead were enshrined within built enclosures such as megalithic stone boxes, stone-lined cists with a large capping stone, catacombs,

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Reconstructing the History of Wari Pottery The ceramic landscape in which Wari potters worked was complex. Andean geography comprises multiple valley systems in both inhospitable deserts and mountain ranges. The terrain allowed numerous, independently formed cultures and pottery styles to develop; each of the latter blended with Wari art as the empire expanded. Dating events during Wari’s expansion starts with determining the sequence in which pottery styles were made and then identifying the styles of pottery associated with each event. The sequencing process is based on two assumptions about stylistic change: first, potters continually either borrowed designs or innovated new ones; second, people discarded artifacts in the same order in which they were created, ideally in deep, multilayered deposits. Also, analysis requires careful attention to the details of design changes. For example, imagine reconstructing the history of the VW Beetle based only on the car itself: over decades the basic style may appear unchanged, but the radios, lights, and tires would assign the manufacture of some cars to Germany in the 1930s and others to Mexico in the 1970s. Fortunately, in 1964 Dorothy Menzel accomplished the daunting task of organizing Wari ceramics and the preceding decades of research about them.9 Her major sources included collections assembled by the German archaeologist Max Uhle, the first to excavate scientifically in Peru, at Pachacamac on the central coast;10 Julio Tello, the first Peruvian archaeologist, who discovered Wari ceremonial pottery at Pacheco on the south coast and at Conchopata in the highlands near the Wari capital; the North American archaeologists Alfred Kroeber, 11 John Rowe,12 and Lawrence Dawson, who analyzed Uhle’s collections and added their own surface collections from south coast and highland Ayacucho sites, as well as Wendell Bennett, who excavated

extensively at the Wari capital;13 and, finally, Luis Lumbreras, a Peruvian archaeologist whose extensive surveys and excavations produced the most comprehensive study of ancient history in the Ayacucho region.14 Menzel divided the Wari past into four time units known as epochs, the first two of which she subdivided into two parts.

Figure 93. Huarpa style tumbler with spirals that may have been inspired by south coast Nasca style pottery. Cup; ceramic and slip; 17.1 x 13.3 cm. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, Gift of Bob and Mary Maarshall, 1986.70.1.

Figure 94. Undulating bands with recurved rays appear on one side of this Ocros style (Epoch 1A) bowl from Conchopata. On the other side are a modeled face and painted curving limbs. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Laboratorio de Arqueología. Photo: Patricia J. Knobloch.

Wari Precursors Important among coastal forerunners during the Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600) were the north coast Moche and the south coast Nasca, who had existed for centuries before the Wari; late manifestations of their cultures overlapped with Wari during the early years of the Middle Horizon. Moche potters excelled in realistic three-dimensional modeling and bichrome painting depicting many different themes; Moche ceramic art is the likely source of Wari modeling techniques. Nasca potters concentrated on two-dimensional representations that are often more stylized and exe­ cuted in a range of clear, vibrant earth tones; modeling in Nasca ceramic art is limited and includes effigy jars portraying humans with heads at the jar’s neck. Nasca ceramics were a major source of inspiration for the Wari, who adopted Nasca pigmentation techniques along with their habit of surrounding motifs with fine black outlines. In the highland Ayacucho region was the contemporary and relatively less complex Huarpa culture (AD 1–650/700),15 whose

vessel inventory is noteworthy for including spoons16 and whose ceramic designs are predominately black and red geometric motifs on a white background (fig. 93). During the sixth and seventh centuries,17 Huarpa and Nasca cultures were in contact, possibly as trade partners, though they did not exchange ceramics. Complete Nasca icons never occur in Huarpa art, but Huarpa potters did selectively adopt small, colorful Nasca designs edged with fine black outlining; among them are symmetrical medallions with a circled-dot center and four appended elements shaped like fleur-de-lis.18 By the end of the seventh century, several Huarpa communities had grown in density, especially on the mesa where Wari’s capital would soon develop. 1a (600–700).19 At the Wari capital, pottery shards have been excavated layer by layer to a depth of 4 meters (13 feet) and each layer provides a successive snapshot of artistic changes.20 As shards of Huarpa ceramics diminished, new pottery styles known as Ocros and Chakipampa appeared. Although these styles shared many motifs, a bright yellow-orange background pigment and minor modeling distinguish the Ocros style (fig. 94). With darker orange or white backgrounds, Chakipampa potters experimented with curvilinear motifs such as wavy bands with curled tips known as “recurved rays” to create elaborate octopuslike designs (fig. 95), and a banded rectangle middle horizon epoch

Figure 95. This Chakipampa style (Epoch 1A) bowl from Conchopata has an octopus-like motif of recurved rays. The interior color is like Ocros style pigmentation. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Laboratorio de Arqueología. Photo: Patricia J. Knobloch.

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became standard on the interiors of straightsided, open bowls. Effigy jars of figures wearing a headband of multicolored chevrons and a version of the banded rectangle on the cheek first appear at this time. The chevron band, the meaning of which is unknown, became the most diagnostic trait of Wari ceramic art; the banded rectangle, wherever it occurs, may refer to ethnic identity. 1b (700–850).21 At this time Chakipampa potters dramatically and innovatively began to create a veritable bestiary of zoomorphic symbols. They include a lizard-like animal shown in profile with

middle horizon epoch

Figure 96. Provincial Chakipampa style (Epoch 1A) vessel with ventral animal, from the south coast. Phoebe A. Hearst Museum of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley, 4-9016. Figure 97 [66]. This vessel belongs to the Atarco rather than Chakipampa style. Vessel with humpback animal; ceramic and slip; 26.5 x 21.6 x 11.4 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Henry L. Batterman Fund, 41.420.

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horns and a zigzag band across its back;22 an insect-like “ventral animal,” which rests on its belly (ventral side) and has four or more limbs, a triangular tail, and sometimes a pointed “stinger” nose (fig. 96); 23 a single, S-shaped band with a profile feline head at each end that is an antecedent to a feline-like creature with arching back and human-like hands and feet known as the “humpback animal” (fig. 97);24 and many more. Most notable is the “Ayacucho serpent,” a legless, centipedelike creature with a multilobed body, two eyes, open mouth, and whiskers (fig. 98). This imaginative imagery may represent an initial conception of mythical entities and, perhaps,

Figure 98. Ayacucho serpent motif on a Chakipampa style (Epoch 1B) bowl from Concho­pata. Photo: courtesy William H. Isbell.

Figure 99. Chakipampa style (Epoch 1B) faceneck vessel with headband of multicolored chevrons and banded rectangle on the cheeks, from Conchopata. Photo: courtesy William H. Isbell. Figure 100. Nievería style vessel with Ayacucho serpent motif; ceramic and pigment; H. 17.1 cm, W. 14.6 cm. The Art Institute of Chicago, Kate S. Buckingham Endowment, 1955.2236. Photo: © The Art Institute of Chicago.

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a localized, autochthonous Wari cult based on a two-dimensional interpretation of the layout of the constellations. Simultaneously, the Wari began to expand their presence and authority by founding extensive settlements in the Ayacucho and Cuzco valleys. Human effigy jars in these distant areas depict figures with chevron headbands, cheek motifs, body decoration of bicolored “octopus” motifs, and stylized, rectangular hands (fig. 99).25 Throughout the empire, these human images may depict a single individual or denote a more general ethnic identity. Wari’s relationship with the central coast was less intrusive. The Nievería people, like their Moche neighbors to the north, excelled in three-dimensional modeling, especially effigy jars and figurine elements appliquéd to vessels.26 But the Nievería pottery style also features a distinctive, bright orange background color similar to Ocros pottery from Ayacucho along with renditions of the Ayacucho serpent motif (fig. 100) and a ventral animal, both seen in Wari’s Chakipampa style.27 Thus, the Nievería style most likely reflects contact with the Moche and their ceramic art prior to the Middle Horizon; it seems to have existed throughout Epoch 1 and to have taken inspiration from Wari styles as contact with the highlanders set the stage for later Wari expansion in this region. Wari leaders apparently focused on a southward campaign with a settlement at Pacheco on the south coast (see maps, pp. xiv, xv), where a provincial Chakipampa style introduced the mythic animal icons, including the humpback animal, the Ayacucho serpent, and the ventral animal. Moving farther south to the Moquegua Valley, small amounts of Ocros and Chakipampa style pottery also

document the initial Wari occupation at Cerro Baúl’s mesa redoubt (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”). At this crucial time, when the Wari were on the road, one potter immortalized the grand visitation of a dignitary carried on a litter by four porters (fig. 101). The potter painted the Chakipampa style chevron band and medallion motif of recurved rays with a central dot. The absence of weaponry indicates a peaceful procession. During these forays into the south, the Wari encountered a new cult of anthropomorphic and zoomorphic deities depicted artistically either as bodiless heads or as full-bodied and holding staffs. The full-bodied figures are of two varieties: frontally posed staff deities who hold a staff in each hand, and supernatural beings depicted in profile with a single staff. This cult may have developed from a society of shamans who lived at the northern Chilean desert oases of San Pedro de Atacama. There, hundreds of mummies were buried with paraphernalia used to inhale hallucinogenic plant-based snuff; the paraphernalia, including snuff trays and tubes, is decorated with the frontal or a profile staff-bearing figure (see fig. 88). It is possible that states of ecstatic

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intoxication informed or even engendered the iconography,28 which most likely spread to far-flung areas by means of highly portable textiles that were decorated with it.29 Its appearance in the Wari heartland, at the site of Conchopata, is documented on twenty-three large effigy jars of Wari elites, all wearing a chevron headband, waist-length tunic, and various kinds of facial decoration.30 The jars’ barrel-shaped bodies were used like billboards to advertise the new cult: they are painted with a frontal staff deity flanked by rows of winged staff-bearing creatures in profile who here serve as attendants (see figs. 75a–f). The layout is similar to Tiwanaku’s Gateway of the Sun (see fig. 6a), and the Wari staff deity is Figure 101 [40]. Nievería style? vessel with litter group; ceramic and slip; 28 x 16 x 14 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund 2011.36.

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almost identical to one carved on a Tiwanaku stone statue.31 On shards of similar Wari effigy jars, the profile staff-bearing beings closely resemble carved images on the San Pedro de Atacama snuff paraphernalia.32 The shoulder area of the twenty-three effigy jars was painted with large and small versions of the humpback animal, the latter similar to those on Nievería style pottery and textiles. Remarkably, the larger versions are more like those depicted on Aguada style pottery of northwest Argentina. These are just a few of the indications that staff deity imagery developed in the context of wide-ranging interactions; the Wari seem to have been in touch with and open to many different cultures and sources as the iconogra-

Figure 102. Composite reconstruction drawing based on urn fragments in the Conchopata style, from Conchopata. Drawing: Patricia J. Knobloch.

phy, and the religion it represented, developed into one of the Middle Horizon’s most important signatures. At Pacheco, the cult is depicted on ceremonial pottery in the Robles Moqo style, another of Wari’s many ceramic styles.33 These vessels feature effigy jars depicting empty-handed elites; modeled animals, especially camelids; human hands and feet; and open, urn-like vessels or huge tumblers that are painted with plants, deity faces, and staff deities (see figs. 130–40). One spectacular effigy jar depicts a Wari figure whose elite status is apparent not so much in his simple, striped tunic as in the beautifully depicted black jaguar pelt hanging from his hat (see fig. 134). Jaguar habitation once included all of South America, except the western coast and southernmost regions. Black jaguars are a rare, morphed peculiarity; they represent only 6 percent of today’s jaguar population.34 Thus, this Wari personage may be someone of great distinction. Several other Pacheco effigy jars show a figure with an unusual complex facial design who apparently wears a tie-dyed tunic (see figs. 135, 136; see also pp. 193–205, “Tie-dyed Tunics”). This human image occurs on more artifacts than any other Wari personage and is here termed the “paramount warrior” since, as shall be seen, he may represent a heroic warrior or an ethnic group who took up arms.35 The remaining vessels are crucial in understanding Wari’s new religious advances. The staff deities are the most elaborate icons thus far of the new cult (see figs. 1, 5). The large urns and tumblers that bear these images could have held

the chicha (native corn beer) that was served to participants during feasting events (see fig. 133; see also pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). Figurine cups, which seem awkward for drinking, may have been used to make libations.36 The distinctive shapes of camelid effigy vessels also may suggest ritual rather than more routine use (see figs. 137, 138). The cult continued to develop at Conchopata in the Wari heartland, but apparently not as peacefully. Urns not unlike those from Pacheco are variously painted with staff-bearing figures, bodiless supernatural heads—in profile or full-faced—as well as warriors and captives.37 In the example illustrated in Figure 102, a human, perhaps a guardian, stands next to a staff deity; a supernatural companion in profile carries an axe and a staff tipped with a human captive. The human also holds an axe and is attired in a tasseled, four-cornered hat, a necklace, and a belted, wrap-around loincloth—all indicative of his elite status. (The belt and the vertical registers between figures are decorated with the face-fret design commonly seen in tapestry-woven tunics [see fig. 144]). The staff deity may represent a sun god; its head is suggestively surrounded by a corona of rays and the guardian holds a small, circular object that might represent a mirror used to reflect the sun’s rays. Such mirrors are known archaeologically. Dangling from the bottom of one of the deity’s two staffs is a heart-and-lung motif that probably alludes to the ritual killing of captives. Interestingly, the composition is not like those on the large Wari faceneck jars or the

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Figure 103 [5]. Partial recon­struction of an urn from Conchopata in the Conchopata style depicting warriors carrying shields and an axe or a bow and arrows. Urn fragments with warriors; ceramic and slip; 40 x 85 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1777. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 104. Profile heads on urn fragments in the Conchopata style, from Conchopata. Photos: William H. Isbell.

Tiwanaku Gateway of the Sun, on which many profile staff-bearing figures obediently face a central, staff deity. Rather, the figures are represented in repeated pairs and perhaps in opposition since the profile being turns away from its frontally posed companion. It may be that this layout, with each figure type holding different human captives, records a critical disruption within Wari’s cult that involved warfare among groups identified with either the staff deity or the profile being.38 Further evidence of warfare exists in representations of the paramount warrior,

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who appears without weaponry in his incarnation at Pacheco on the south coast but, at Conchopata, carries a shield and a bow with arrows as he kneels in a reed boat (fig. 103).39 On another Conchopata urn, seven profile heads appear; their lolling tongues may indicate strangulation and their distinctive headgear and facial ornamentation are shown in some detail (fig. 104). One has a bicolored face and wears a black cap with a brim and perhaps a chin strap of square plaques, each marked with two dots; another wears an arrow point tied to his headdress and bangles in his pierced ears, nose, and lower lip. Although interpretation of these heads varies, they may represent enemies (or enemy groups) of the Wari state who were tortured into submission and thus offer further evidence of conflict as an embattled society defended its new territory or sought to aggressively expand. Certainly military imagery is common at Conchopata and elsewhere in Wari territory during this period, and, as Menzel observed, there is a dramatic change in Wari’s local pottery after the cult had been established, as though some crisis—perhaps a revolt or epidemic—severely disrupted politics in the Ayacucho Valley and on the south coast.40

2 (850–1000). The diversity of exquisite Epoch 2 artifacts in this catalogue is a testament to the Wari investment in fine craftsmanship and demand for affluent attire. The increase in cups, bowls, and jars also attests the possible transition from an exclusive cult functioning with a few large urns to a full-blown religious movement with obligatory feasting and ceremonies of oblation.41 Also apparent is a marked increase in the representation of zoomorphic supernatural beings, including profile, staffbearing creatures with avian or feline heads. Their depiction on Wari tapestry-woven tunics and accessories may have symbolized the wearer’s god-like authority and allegiance to the empire (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics,” and pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”), yet pottery was the most accessible and expedient means of distributing the symbols of this authority. A new generation of Wari potters began to stylize and enhance the middle horizon epoch

cult imagery. The finest pottery comes from the Viñaque style in the Wari heartland,42 the Atarco style on the south coast,43 and the Pachacamac style on the central coast.44 Trademark Viñaque vessels include small lyre cups, so-called because their shape resembles Old World lyre harps with sides that curve in slightly, as well as tall glass-shaped tumblers with slightly flared sides.45 The lyre cups are painted with supernatural heads, leaving little doubt about their ceremonial purpose. One lyre cup found in an elite Moche grave suggests that the Moche held Wari’s beliefs and artifacts in high esteem (see fig. 37; see also pp. 47–61, “Looking at the Wari Empire from the Outside In”).46 A profile staff bearer with an avian head and wing on its back was painted on the interior of a beautiful, open bowl in the Viñaque geometric-on-light technique (fig. 105).47 Pachacamac potters shared this image and developed a signature icon named the “Pachacamac griffin,” which has an avian

Figure 105 [1]. A bowl in the Viñaque style’s geometric-on-light technique, from Conchopata. Bowl with bird-headed staffbearing creature in profile; ceramic and slip; 12.7 x 33.4 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-925. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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Figure 106 [61]. Pachacamac style vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”); ceramic and slip; 26.8 x 20.5 x 20.9 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19059. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki. Figure 107 [58]. Pachaca­ mac style double-spouted vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”); ceramic and slip; 16 x 16.5 x 14.5 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas Jr., X86-3702. Photo: Don Cole.

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head and sometimes a staff and a feline body, probably that of the jaguar (figs. 106, 107).48 (Of the eleven South American wild cats, only the jaguar’s pelt has broken circlets with central spots.49) A similar icon on a Viñaque bowl shows a less elaborate and perhaps early version of this mythical griffin (fig. 108). The ventral animal version with a stinger nose was also painted on a Viñaque geometric-onlight jar with an interesting hourglass shape (fig. 109). Representations of the paramount warrior continue into this period, and he is shown wearing either a tie-dyed or a tapestry-woven tunic with face-fret motifs along with an elite, four-cornered hat (fig. 110; see also fig. 146). In these effigies, the hands cup to form holes into

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which other objects, perhaps made of perishable materials, may have been inserted—staffs of authority, weapons, or agricultural tools are among the possibilities.50 Curiously, unlike the vast majority of Wari effigies in ceramic, both objects are open at both top and bottom, and thus did not serve as vessels; their function is unknown. The figure with bangles in his ears, nose, and lip, seen earlier at Conchopata, may be memorialized in a Pachacamac doublespout bottle (compare figs. 104 and 111) and in another Moche burial as an effigy head jar.51 That jar’s association with Cajamarca style pottery from the north highlands may suggest that this personage is somehow tied to that region, especially since both his facial piercings and Cajamarca ceramic techniques are

The animal on the bowl is related to the Pachacamac griffin; the creature on the hourglass-shape vessel is an Epoch 2B example of the ventral animal. Both vessels are in the Viñaque style and come from a grave at Wari Wilka, a site in the highlands (Flores Espinoza 1959). Figure 108 [21]. Bowl with mythical creature; ceramic and slip; 8 x 12.6 cm. Museo Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima, 3001 0041. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar. Figure 109 [22]. Vessel with ventral animal; ceramic and slip; about 14 x 6 cm. Museo Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima, 3001 3453. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 110 [37]. Viñaque style figure in tie-dyed tunic and four-cornered hat; ceramic and slip; 30 x 22 cm. Museum Rietberg, Zurich, RPB 320. Photo: Rainer Wolfsberger.

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Figure 111 [52]. Pachacamac style double-spouted head vessel; ceramic and slip; 15.8 x 15.3 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C 54789. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

dramatically different from Wari customs. The figure with the bicolored face and a headdress of square plaques also seems to be depicted in various contexts, including a fine tapestrywoven panel (fig. 112).52 A clue to interpreting the plaques comes from recently discovered burials at Espíritu Pampa; this figure’s image occurs on ceramics recovered from these burials, and one elite tomb also contained more than one hundred square silver “sequins,” each with two holes used to stitch the plaques to a cloth.53 Remarkably, this elite burial also included a U-shaped silver pectoral with feline heads almost identical to one now in a German collection (see fig. 219b). The latter pectoral is accompanied by two nearly identical smaller versions that might be interpreted as staff finials since they are similar to the unusual U-shaped finials on staffs held by the tapestry’s figures. On the south coast, most Atarco style pottery comes from elite burials that reveal

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the practice of accompanying the dead with prized items. Among those objects are innovative bottles with two thin, tapering spouts connected by an arching, solid bridge handle (double-spouted bottles); liquids poured easily from one spout while air flowed into the other (fig. 113). One of the most impressive and rare examples of Atarco ceramic art is a drum, its animal-skin membrane still intact, with the head of one of the mythical felines that were the focus of Atarco’s religious imagery (figs. 114, 115; see also fig. 65). (Ceramic drums were traditional musical instruments among south coast cultures, originating with the Paracas culture [900–200 BC] and continuing with the Nasca.54) Feline images had also been part of the earlier south coast Robles Moqo tradition; for example, the impressive human head shown in an effigy cup wears a feline headdress that combines both artistic traditions (fig. 116). The feline may represent a jaguar, and the human head could be that of

Figure 112. Tapestrywoven panel; camelid fiber and cotton; 70.5 x 117 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Charles Potter Kling Fund, 1996.50.

Figure 113 [53]. Atarco style double-spouted skull vessel; ceramic and slip; 14.5 x 17.8 x 12.6. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund 1996.292.

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Figure 114 [31]. Atarco style drum; ceramic, slip, cotton, and animal hide; 45 x 21 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 89-311 922. Photo: Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich. Photo: Marietta Weidner.

Figure 115 [42]. Atarco style faceneck vessel with felines; ceramic and slip; 17.8 x 12.7 x 12.7 cm. I. Michael Kasser Collection, KP 246. Figure 116 [54]. The modeling of this Atarco style vessel comes from the Robles Moqo style. Head vessel; ceramic and slip; 18 x 12 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-54786. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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a political leader or a shaman; if the latter, the feline was likely a source of spiritual power, as it is today among shamans of the Amazonian lowlands. Another Atarco canteen-shaped vessel depicts a handsome, partially modeled feline that dominates two creatures who survived from earlier Chakipampa times and benefited from improved artistic treatments by Atarco artists: the humpback animal appears on each side of the vessel and, on the curved surface beneath the feline’s mouth, there is a ventral animal with an open, toothed mouth (fig. 91). Continuation of highland/coastal contact is also represented by an intricate double-chambered vessel with deep, stacked receptacles that are supported by a hollow, modeled serpent. Its south coast provenience and unique modeling suggest that an Atarco potter employed Viñaque designs, which in turn were directly derived from earlier Chakipampa chevron bands, recurved rays, and an angular rectangle known as the “three-fillet band”(fig. 117).55 Death and warfare is prominently recorded in Wari style ceramics with images of skulls (fig. 113) and warriors. One effigy bottle depicts a warrior festooned with severed hu-

man heads, legs, and arms that may refer to the gruesome aftermath of battle and the dismemberment of enemies (fig. 118). On another vessel, a fierce warrior with axe in hand is flanked by two profile heads whose identity is unclear; they may represent his captives or his allies or patrons (fig. 119). Andean beliefs are also strongly underpinned by dualistic thought that manifests in paired artifacts, such as two effigy jars that may represent women, who only rarely appear in Wari art (fig. 120). Although they lack the tupus (shawl pins) normally shown on women, the protuberances on their chests may refer to breasts, beneath which a vagina-like motif appears. Hair braids are indicated with incisions in the ceramic, and their bodies, or perhaps garments, are ornamented with humpback animals, the ventral animal, and birds. If women, they may embody a generalized concept of earth mother, although they lack overt supernatural features that might identify them with the female earth deity of later times, Pachamama. Fertility is also emphasized in other ways. For example, another Atarco effigy jar shows an elite male holding a staff topped with an ear of maize (see fig. 237), and a Vi-

Figure 117 [24]. This cup reportedly was buried with Atarco style vessels. It could be of sierra origin or locally rendered in the Viñaque style. Cup on serpent pedestal; ceramic and slip; 14.6 x 7.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Gift of Olive Bigelow by exchange, 1996.37. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012. Figure 118 [39]. Viñaque style warrior vessel; ceramic and slip; 15 x 9.5 x 7 cm. Linden-Museum, Stuttgart, 119016. Image: © Linden-Museum Stuttgart. Photo: A. Dreyer.

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Figures 119a, 119b [68]. Atarco style vessel with warrior (front and back); ceramic and slip; 31 x 39.4 cm. Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins,” MRI-00178-01. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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Figure 120 [38]. These Viñaque style vessels may depict females. Two figural vessels; ceramic and slip; 19.2 x 10.5 x 10.3 cm (each). Dallas Museum of Art, 1976.W.216, 1976.W.217.

Figure 121. Viñaque style tumbler with plants, alpacas, and felines, from Maymi. Photo: Martha Anders. Figure 122 [25]. Pachaca­ mac style cup with staff deity; ceramic and slip; 12.1 x 8 x 7.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19174. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Martin Franken.

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ñaque tumbler delicately depicts in paint and low relief an amazing “garden” of plants along with alpacas and felines (fig. 121).56 Among the most impressive of Wari style ceramic accomplishments are the very large effigy vessels found at Corral Redondo on the far south coast; these vessels are said to have contained nearly one hundred feathered panels (see fig. 198; see also pp. 207–15, “Featherwork”). Thus, it cannot be assumed automatically that all large vessels were used as chicha containers. The Inca are also known to have stored clothing in large jars.57 At Pachacamac on the central coast, priests hosted massive feasts to meet ritual demands. Potters complied by producing tumblers with stylized, sometimes almost cartoonish versions of the staff deity (fig. 122), whose disembodied head also appears on jars (see fig. 16). Many small human effigy vessels in the Pachacamac style may depict the participants in these ceremonies (see fig. 67); they have individual facial features. The designs painted on their bodies could refer to fine textiles, although the characteristic verti-

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Figure 123 [28]. One of the chambers of this Pachaca­ mac style vessel is modeled as a human who plays a fox-head whistle and may wear a tie-dyed tunic. Double-chambered vessel with human; ceramic and slip; 14.9 x 9 x 20.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49699. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

cal banding of highland Wari tapestry-woven tunics is absent. The numerous examples of these tumblers and effigy jars in museum collections suggest that Pachacamac was a center of religious power that may have rivaled the Wari capital itself. Strikingly, warriors are lacking in Pachacamac imagery, perhaps in accord with the emphasis on religious imagery; this may indicate that the priests who ruled Pachacamac maintained a degree of neutrality. Among the many other types of vessels in the Pachacamac style are musicians, one of whom wears a tie-dyed tunic and plays a fox-head whistle (fig. 123), and many representations of marine creatures that may relate to Pachacamac’s location on the shores of the Pacific Ocean: fish (fig. 124), sea cucumbers (fig. 125 and perhaps fig. 126), which are still caught and dried for market in Peru, and snails (fig. 127). 3 and 4 (1000– 1050). As Wari authority declined, regional autonomies returned.58 The capital was abandoned—the exact causes still require middle horizon epochs

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study—but its religion survived and gradually culminated on the coast, lasting longer among Moche descendants on the north coast. There, Wari icons blended with the Moche tradition of press molding, which created imagery in low relief, usually on unpainted blackware59 or in black-and-white designs painted on red backgrounds. Two vessels that show the persistence of Wari-derived figures into this period include one that depicts a human flanked by birds; a mythical figure with an avian head appears in another (figs. 128, 129).60 But in general, stylistic inheritance from Wari was confined to simple design elements—white bands, wavy dashes, crosses, and circles with or without thin black lines—on pottery from the far south coast Camaná61 and Majes valleys,62 to the north coast Huarmey Valley63 as well as at Pachacamac (see also pp. 251–67, “Wari’s Andean Legacy”). Walled within a Vatican-like city of pyramids, cemeteries, and elite compounds, Pachacamac became a religious stronghold that outlasted Wari’s highland authority. By Inca times, it had become an extremely important oracle site. Its author-

[47]

[47]

[49]

[48] Figures 124a, 124b [47]. Two Pachacamac style double-spouted fish vessels; ceramic and slip; 11.4 x 5.9 x 17.2 cm and 11.7 x 6.2 x 17.4 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA19128, VA19129. Images: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photos: Claudia Obrocki.

[50]

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Figure 125 [49]. Pachaca­ mac style double-spouted sea cucumber vessel; ceramic and slip; 9.6 x 5 x 18 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA19130. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

Figure 126 [48]. Pachaca­ mac style double-spouted sea creature vessel; ceramic and slip; 17 x 7 x 17.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA19127. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki. Figure 127 [50]. Pachaca­ mac style double-spouted snail vessel; ceramic and slip; 12.9 x 15.1 x 10 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA19149. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

A rchives in C lay: T he S t y les and S tories of Wari C eramic A rtists

Figure 128 [59]. Doublespouted vessel with figure and birds; ceramic and slip; 18.6 x 19.4 x 10.5 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Robert Kuhn, X71-417. Photo: Don Cole. Figure 129 [57]. Doublespouted bird-headed creature vessel; ceramic and slip; 16.5 x 20.6 x 11.6 cm. Museo Larco, Lima, ML010864. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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ity also came to an abrupt end when Hernando Pizarro stepped foot into the Pachacamac temple in 1533. Legend has it that, at that very moment, an earthquake shook the city. Invasion and Resolution Wari ceramics spread to many different places in the Andes during the Middle Horizon. While we do not know to what degree this spread reflects migrations, trade relations, or military conquest that forced an era of unification, all three circumstances were certainly involved. The memory of this great civilization may be recorded in a remarkable tale of war and peace recorded during the Spanish colonial period. The tale, which comes from Huarochirí in the Rimac Valley region of the central coast, refers to a period long before

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the Inca when a deity, Paria Caca, came down from the highlands to save the Yunca coastal people from a cruel cannibal god. Then Paria Caca conquered the Yunca and created “a cultic order in which both victors and vanquished would participate.” The Yunca eventually accepted Paria Caca into their cosmology by bestowing upon him the status of “brother” to the wife of Pacha Camac, the supreme god of the central coast.64 This tale of invasion by a highland god and resolution with those living on the central coast65 may refer allegorically to the Wari, who traveled from their heartland into coastal territories with a new cult that priests at Pachacamac apparently embraced. Perhaps Paria Caca was a Wari god of war and unification.

notes

1. W. Isbell et al. 1991, 24, where the figure is stated as 250 hectares. 2. Arnold 1975, 191. 3. O’Neale 1977, 43. 4. Milliken 2006, 346–47, figs. 119–21; Pozzi-Escot 1991, 87. 5. Shepard 1956. For more on Wari ceramic production techniques, see Anders et al. 1998 and Pozzi-Escot et al. 1998. 6. Bennett 1953, 66. 7. W. Isbell 2001, 28–36; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001, 474–77. 8. W. Isbell 1997, 184–88. 9. Menzel 1977; Menzel 1968; Menzel 1964. 10. Uhle 1903. 11. Kroeber 1944. 12. J. Rowe 1960a. 13. Bennett 1953; see also Spielvogel 1955. Bennett accumulated over 50,000 ceramic fragments from Wari, Conchopata, and Acuchimay, south of Ayacucho; this collection is now housed at Yale University’s Peabody Museum. 14. Benavides Calle 1965; Lumbreras 1974a; Lumbreras 1960. 15. Knobloch 2003; Knobloch 1983; Knobloch 1976. Collections of Huarpa style pottery at Wari made in 1974 by William H. Isbell, Katharina Schreiber, and the author included a carbon sample that returned the date BP 1713±120, cal. AD 255–536, at 1 sigma (Stuiver and Reimer 1993; Stuiver et al. 2005). 16. Sizes range from large ladles to very small spoons that were possibly used to feed infants. 17. Leoni 2004. Excavations of a temple at Ñawinpukyo provided radiocarbon dates of BP 1600±70, cal. AD 430–576 and BP 1583±34, cal. AD 441–593, both at 1 sigma (Stuiver and Reimer 1993; Stuiver et al. 2005). 18. This style is known as Cruz Pata (Lumbreras 1974b, 137–38, fig. 147, bottom). 19. This date range is not based on calibrated carbon dates but on an estimate of 14C calibrations based on earlier Huarpa calibrated dates and later materials dating to Epoch 1B. 20. Knobloch 1983.

21. This date range is based on a suite of radiocarbon dates from Conchopata that were rounded to the nearest 50 years and at least 85% of the 1 sigma range (W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009, table 2; Ketteman 2002; see also Knobloch 2002, http:// www-rohan.sdsu.edu/~bharley/ WWWWHEN.html#Conchopata). None of the carbon samples was directly associated with pottery and thus should not be used to sequence Epoch 1B ceramics at the site. 22. Menzel 1968, 57, fig. 2b-6. This creature may be based on a Basilisk lizard that is hunted for food and prepared like jerky for trade (Holmberg 1957; Knobloch 1983, 296–98). 23. Menzel originally christened this creature the “ventrally extended animal,” a description meant to imply that the extended body is shown with belly (ventral side) down and back (dorsal side) exposed (Menzel 1964, 11; personal communication, 2012). For an interpretation of this icon, see Knobloch 2002, http://www-rohan. sdsu.edu/~bharley/WWWINSECTS. html#KissingBug. 24. Knobloch 1983, pl. 58b; Menzel 1968, fig. 35. 25. Glowacki and McEwan 2002, fig. 14. 26. Castillo Butters 2001b, fig. 17. 27. Gayton 1927, pl. 97, fig. b. 28. Torres and Repke 2006. These figures have animal heads and often grasp a decapitated human head in one hand, as though human sacrifice was part of the cult’s rituals. However, shamans are described as those who replace their heads with those of animal spirits to partake of supernatural knowledge. Thus, these figures may represent shamans. 29. Bennett (1953, 117) suggested that textiles were the optimal medium for the diffusion of imagery, reasoning that “ceramics were too fragile to be taken on long journeys” (Spielvogel 1955, 254n21). Thus, potters may have shared concepts of the motifs but developed different stylistic expressions; this may help to explain the difference in Middle Horizon ceramics in Peru and Bolivia (Spielvogel 1955, 9). 30. Cook 1984–85, figs. 1–4, 15–20; Knobloch 2010. 31. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009, fig. 33. 32. Ibid., fig. 27. 33. Menzel 1964, 24.

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34. See “Colour morphism” at http:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jaguar. 35. My initial research of Wari human representations began with this image, formerly individual “A” (Knobloch 1993), now “Agent 100” in an online database (Knobloch 2002). 36. Menzel 1977, figs. 125, 135. 37. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009, figs. 2, 3, 25, 30, 31, 34; Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001, figs. 7, 8, 10a–c. 38. Knobloch 2010. 39. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001, figs. 9, 10. 40. Menzel 1964, 69. 41. Menzel (1964) suggested that the Wari cult became ecumenical. 42. Menzel 1964, 38–46. 43. Ibid., 46–53. 44. Ibid., 55–61. 45. These shapes avoid the need for handles and are improvements over straight-sided cups that can slip one’s grasp. 46. Castillo Butters 2001b, fig. 15, upper right. 47. Milliken 2006, 180–81, fig. 47. 48. Menzel 1964, 59–61. 49. See http://www.wotcat.com/ wildlife/Mammal/South%20 America.html. 50. Bergh 2004. 51. Castillo Butters et al. 2008a, fig. 47. 52. For example, Castillo Butters 2001b, fig. 15, bottom right. 53. Fonseca et al. 2011. Except for some human teeth, all organic material had rotted away, leaving the sequins in a pile. 54. Proulx 2006, 2, 120–21. 55. Menzel 1964, 50n299. A fillet is a band and here one sees two border bands and an interior band of dashes. 56. Anders 1990, 34. 57. J. Rowe 1946, 224. 58. Menzel 1964, 62–64, 73. 59. Menzel 1977, 32–33. 60. Donnan 1992, 86–87. 61. Owen 2010, 68, fig. 4.5, lower right. 62. Owen 2007, fig. 11, top right; fig. 12, bottom; fig. 16, left. 63. Prümers 2001, fig. 8. 64. Salomon 1991, 6. 65. Ibid., 8–9.

Mary Glowacki

Shattered Ceramics and Offerings

Figure 130a [15]. Urn with plants, from Pacheco (front; for side see fig. 130b, p. 147); ceramic and slip; 56 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-54798. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Among early societies offerings served to keep the world in balance as a way of paying back what had been granted by the gods and other supernatural forces. In the ancient Andes, offerings were seen as revitalizing forces, with animal and human sacrifices being the most powerful, the latter reserved for extreme circumstances. Early Andean peoples also believed that objects were animated and could substitute for living sacrifices.1 Among the Wari, pottery vessels were the offering of choice, typically used with libations, ritually smashed, and then buried in the ground (fig. 131). The ceremonial practice of smashing ceramic vessels is much broader than Andean Wari culture. Societies throughout time and across continents have associated pottery vessels and the human sustenance served in them with offerings to the ancestors and the energy of the afterlife. A third millennium BC society of northern China, the Neolithic Minoan Greeks, the ancient Mimbres culture of the North American Southwest, and ancient Mississippian peoples of the southeastern United States are but a few examples.2 What is espe-

Figure 131. A pottery smash discovered at Conchopata. Photo: William H. Isbell.

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cially interesting about these many and varied ceramic offering traditions is that they require the ritual “killing” of the pottery vessels, breaking them to engage symbolically in an experience with the supernatural realm. In the specific case of the Wari, these ritual practices seem to have been closely tied to surviving a prolonged drought and beseeching the ancestors for assistance in this effort. Our knowledge of Wari ritual behavior is the result of many archaeological excavations in the Wari heartland and its provinces. Starting with the Wari capital city in Ayacucho, archaeologists have documented large-scale examples of this practice. Since the 1940s, two offerings of numerous large vessels have been found at Conchopata, near the Wari capital.3 The first contained urns, the second faceneck jars (see figs. 75a–f); all were smashed and buried in association with the interment of five young women. Both types of vessels were decorated with supernatural images, a number of which represent the frontal staff deity, the most important supernatural being that the Wari depicted artistically (see pp. 103–21, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”). In the case of the urns, the exteriors bear this image while the jars represent humans wearing tunics decorated with staff deity iconography. (The jars are known as facenecks because a human visage appears on the neck of the vessel; the human’s body is synonymous with that of the vessel.) Of ancient origin, the frontal deity image dates back as far as the Chavín culture of the Early Horizon (1000 BC–AD 1) and can be traced forward through time and different Andean cultural traditions to as late as the supreme deity of the Inca, Viracocha.4 Among the other kinds of imagery painted on shattered ceramics recovered at Conchopata are the disembod-

Figures 132a, 132b [16]. Urn with staff deities, from Pacheco (front and side); ceramic and slip; 83.5 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, S/C. Figures 132c, 132d. Staff deities on the interior of the urn shown in Figures 132a and 132b.

ied heads of mythical creatures, perhaps the staff deity’s attendants (see fig. 62). Wari artists appear to have manufactured a large portion of the Conchopata vessels expressly for the purpose of an important ritual because they show no signs of long, continuous use. Archaeologists have documented a ceramic workshop at Conchopata, which likely was reserved for the production of the pottery offered at the site. The investigators posit that the ritual activity associated with these vessels involved the consumption of chicha (native corn beer), still drunk during ceremonies today in traditional Andean communities. After the presiding Wari leaders concluded their ceremony with toasts,5 they smashed the ves-

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sels and interred them with the young women who also were sacrificed as part of this solemn occasion. Excavations further revealed that a channel ran from the tomb to the surface, and chicha may have been poured into this channel at a later time to renew the offering.6 The ceramic offerings recorded at Conchopata are grand, but not unique. Others involving large vessels are known from provincial sites, two located in the Nasca region in southern coastal Peru. The first is Pacheco, discovered in 1927 by Julio C. Tello and so far the largest of the Wari offering sites: Tello recovered more than three tons of ceramic fragments there, although the exact circumstances of the find are unknown because he did not

Figure 130b [15]. Urn with plants, from Pacheco (side; for front, see fig. 130a, p. 144); ceramic and slip; 56 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-54798. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Figure 133 [11]. Cup with supernatural head and plants, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; about 59 x 55 cm. Museo de América, Madrid, 8.315bis.

publish his notes about it and the site was later used for agriculture.7 Nevertheless, some vessels have been reconstructed and the major forms include large urns similar to those from Conchopata (figs. 130a, 130b, 132a, 132b; for 130a, see p. 144) along with huge cups or tumblers known as keros (fig. 133), faceneck jars (figs. 134–36), large and small camelid (llama or alpaca) effigies, their sex often clearly indicated (figs. 137, 138), severed or skeletal camelid heads (figs. 139, 140), and a few others. Several of the urns depict two versions of the staff deity that have been identified as male and female based on their garments, the male wearing a belted tunic and the female an unbelted dress and a mantle over her shoulders

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(figs. 132c, 132d; see also fig. 5b).8 Many other urns are painted with highland agricultural plants that also appear beneath the rims of the large cups, which additionally bear the visage of a supernatural being (figs. 130a, 130b, 133). Based on this plant iconography, it is tempting to think that Wari leaders facilitated the introduction of certain crops to other regions, the Nasca peoples being recipients. Many figures depicted in Wari art, in turn, are derived from Nasca art,9 suggesting that the Wari likewise were beneficiaries of this relationship. The plant urns display representations of architectural structures with dome-shaped roofs that have been interpreted tentatively as either Wari administrative buildings or niched halls,

Figure 134 [12]. Faceneck vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 45.6 x 30.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-63067. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

which are prominent in some Wari provincial centers and seem to have had ceremonial functions (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).10 Maymi, located in the Pisco Valley of southern Peru, is the second major ceramic Wari offering found in the south coast region. Research at this site11 revealed an extraordinary complex with one area devoted to the production of ceramics. Close by were a number of pits containing various kinds of elaborate vessels, smashed and interred as offerings. While a few vessels have been reconstructed from the numerous excavated fragments, the collection remains largely unanalyzed and unpublished. The reconstructed vessels include urns not unlike those from Conchopata and Pacheco, human and animal effigy vessels, and lyre-shaped cups and bowls. One particularly impressive piece is a tall drinking vessel. Its exterior is decorat-

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ed with modeled and painted images of plants, ears of corn, and felines and camelids (see fig. 121).12 Equally intriguing are bowls with human figures modeled as vessel supports (fig. 141).13 Additionally, investigators recovered a cache of unfired human figurines wrapped in different types of cloth. Some were associated with miniature unfired ceramic cups, a jar, Spondylus princeps (thorny oyster) shell, and ears of corn. While scholars await further analysis of this material, it is clear that Maymi demonstrates the importance of the ceramic offering tradition in the Wari effort to extend its reach into different regions. The Wari provincial complex on Cerro Baúl illustrates yet another example of the ceramic offering tradition in southern Peru. Located in Moquegua, a short distance from the coast, this site stands out as an exceptional embodiment of Wari ceremonialism. The Wari built this city on a high mesa above the dry

Figure 135 [13]. Faceneck vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 50 x 35.3 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-64075. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar. Figure 136 [14]. Faceneck vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 50 x 34.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-66969. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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desert valley floor. The site is difficult to access but inspiring: it has an unparalleled vista of the surrounding region and sierra, home to mountain spirits, or apus. Even today offerings are placed on its slopes to honor the mountains. These offerings, or illas, are miniature statues of animals and other forms associated with farming and the procreation of the Andean landscape. Offerings made to the ancient ones residing in the mountains and earth are thought to be reciprocated with good fortune, including plentiful crops and herds.14 The summit of the Cerro Baúl complex consists of many structures organized around plazas. Investigators identified a large elongated building type that served as the place

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of elite residence and administration. In one of these halls the Wari brewed chicha and sponsored ceremonies that revolved around the consumption of this beverage (see pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). Excavation of one of these structures revealed a burnt deposit of ceramic drinking vessels and fine necklaces made of lapis lazuli or chrysocolla beads (fig. 142; see also fig. 68). Archaeologists who investigated the site believe that the hall was intentionally burned, possibly as part of its ritual abandonment. This event was so important that fine vessels, brought hundreds of miles from the Wari heartland, were chosen to be sacrificed. After toasting and drinking, the Wari smashed these vessels and threw

Figure 137 [10]. Standing camelid vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 74.5 x 51.5 x 32 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-60592. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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them into the burning building as part of its ceremonial sealing. After the fire was extinguished, the Wari made a second offering of necklaces.15 One could speculate that Cerro Baúl was established to mark the extent of Wari expansion in the southern frontier, and rituals associated with it were dedicated to the ancestors who spiritually protected these new regions. Cerro Amaru offers another example of the Wari ceramic offering tradition in the north. Located in the highlands of Huamachuco, the site was contemporaneous with and centrally located to three larger sites found within a 4 kilometer (2.5 mile) radius. A team of archaeologists who have conducted considerable research within the region argue that Cerro Amaru functioned as an important shrine tied to water rituals and ancestor worship not only for the local community but for people from other parts of Peru who came to make offerings there.16 The shrine consisted of three wells located on a man-made mound that captured rain and served as a reservoir, along with storage facilities and a mausoleum. Figure 138 [9]. Reclining camelid vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 17.5 x 24.8 x 80 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-55041. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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A small cache of ceramics was discovered behind the reservoir wall that included an anthropomorphic figurine, a blackware lyre cup, and a small decorated jar, all of which were smashed. The investigators posit that the Cerro Amaru ceramic deposit was the result of a chicha offering, and that the libation was kept in the storage buildings expressly for supplying such ceremonies. After consuming the chicha, the Wari smashed the vessels and laid them next to the reservoir. This, however, was not the only offering at the site. In 1900, one of the Cerro Amaru wells was dredged. From it thousands of dumortierite, turquoise, and Spondylus shell beads along with large pieces of Spondylus shell and metal objects were recovered. Among early Andean societies, these materials—symbols of the earth (stone and metal) and water (shell)—were common items offered to the ancestors.17 They were interred in the ground or cast into bodies of water, such as lakes, places of ancestral origin. In turn, the ancestors reciprocated with fertility in the form of rain.18 In Inca times, bodies of water, both natural and artificial, were

Figure 139 [7]. Camelid head vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 15.6 x 17.8 x 12.6 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-55032. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

considered portals to the underworld of the ancestors,19 a view that is believed to date back as early as Wari culture, if not earlier. What is fascinating about Wari ceremonialism is that no significant ritual seems to have been carried out without a ceramic vessel offering, and many were intimately tied to ancestor worship with stone, metal, and Spondylus shell serving as basic offering components. The elite individuals interred at Cerro Amaru may have been the very ancestors around whom much of the ceremonial activity of the site revolved. They were buried with sumptuous and exotic grave goods, including many of the Wari style. It may even have been the case that in life these personages were believed to be able to predict the future. As their wisdom and powers became renowned, people came from far and wide to consult them. After death, these ancestors may have continued to communicate with the living through the medium of an oracle. During

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this same time period, a major oracle center existed at Pachacamac, near present-day Lima. It had a significant Wari occupation and, along with other sites including Cerro Amaru, may have formed a network of ceremonial centers that helped people harness the energies of the ancestors.20 Three other examples of ceramic offering smashes come from the southern highlands Cuzco region, the most intensively occupied provincial region of the Wari Empire. The first is from the monumental site Pikillacta.21 Apart from the Wari capital, Pikillacta was the largest of the Wari complexes, but it was never completed or fully occupied, leaving unanswered questions about its intended role. Nonetheless, many activities can be documented at the site. One was the ritual use of a niched hall, considered to be a ceremonial building type not unlike the halls of Cerro Baúl. When the Wari abandoned the site, the hall was left unfinished in that it lacked

a plastered floor. Before the Wari sealed it closed, they made a very large ceramic offering by breaking hundreds of vessels in the space, as if ceremonially to mark the event of leaving the site; they then capped the room with clay. The majority of these vessels are simple single-serving bowls thought to have been used for drinking chicha by the workers at the site; elites, however, used keros. The majority of ceramic fragments in this deposit represent the Wamanga style, a late Wari ceramic pottery style. This offering shows that the ceramic smashing tradition continued into the late phase of the Wari period. A much earlier offering is recorded at Huaro, a complex of Wari sites located 17 km (10 mi.) southeast of Pikillacta. At Qoripata, an administrative node of this settlement that was likely the earliest Wari administrative center in the Cuzco region,22 a large faceneck jar representing a human was excavated from a room that had been used for ceremonial feasting and drinking. Although decorated with unique iconography, it is very similar in size and shape to other large faceneck jars from Conchopata and Pacheco (see fig. 99). Buried next to this vessel, which was struck directly on the front of the body to “kill” it Figure 140 [8]. Camelid skull vessel, from Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 17 x 22.8 x 11.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-55035. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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ritually, were pairs of smashed drinking vessels. The faceneck jar, which once stood 1.5 meters (5 feet) tall, is believed to have held chicha, served as part of a ritual to secure this important political space ceremonially. Much like the hall at Cerro Baúl, the room was subsequently closed off and then burned, perhaps in anticipation of violence that threatened the Wari representatives who controlled the region. Alternatively, Qoripata may have been ritually shut down because the Wari established Pikillacta, a new administrative center that never fully came to fruition. Another example of the Wari ceramic offering tradition comes from Muyu Roqo, south and west of the Cuzco Valley in the Paruro region.23 It is dominated by drinking vessels, smashed and deposited in a single offering pit. Curiously, most of the ceramic styles represented do not belong to Wari; they date to the Middle Horizon (600–1000) but are local versions of what the Wari would have used. Local peoples who were influenced or dominated by the Wari created these pottery styles to practice a Wari ritual. The role of the Wari ceramic offering tradition must have made an impact on the local Cuzco population; not only was it practiced in areas outside the sphere of direct

Wari control, such as Paruro, but also with pottery influenced by Wari styles. In Cuzco and elsewhere in Peru there are other examples of buried Wari offerings, some of which include ceramics and some of which do not. Among the latter are three offerings of small human figurines, two recovered unscientifically, but nonetheless relatively well recorded. These two each consisted of forty greenstone figurines interred in a room as a dedicatory offering (see fig. 223). Like other Wari buried offerings, they also included Spondylus shell and copper, materials with symbolic ties to the ancestors. The third cache was also dedicatory in nature but more elaborate in composition (see figs. 225, 226). Not only did these figurines include human, supernatural, and animal representations made of different types of materials, including stone, Spondylus shell, and metal alloys, but they were also interred with Spondylus shell and other metal objects. Moreover, the statuettes represent figures associated with warfare, such as warriors and prisoners,24 perhaps implying that force was necessary to establish the Wari southern province and that offerings to the ancestors made in their likeness were required.25 In assessing the Wari offering tradition, consistent patterns can be observed. First and foremost, fundamental to it are smashed pottery vessels, many of which are drinking or serving vessels and others made to represent humans who wear tunics with Figure 141. Vessel with supports modeled as human female figures, from Maymi. Photo: Scott Raymond. Figure 142. One from a set of four shattered cups recovered from the chicha brewery at Cerro Baúl. Each is decorated with the head of the staff deity. Photo: Patrick Ryan Williams.

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images of supernatural beings. These vessels are sometimes archaeologically recovered in association with stone, shell, and metal. The Wari often buried them in the ground, a location closely tied to the ancestors. As several scholars have suggested,26 this ideology can be linked to the Inca, who saw the ancestors as residents of the underground waterways and purveyors of water. In a region often threatened by drought, peoples of the Andean sierra were no doubt preoccupied by availability of water to sustain crops and pastureland, and frequently called upon the ancestors for assistance in fulfilling this need by making offerings to the earth and the ancestral world. The typical offering included Spondylus shell, fundamental for rain-making rites (fig. 143; see also fig. 209). Other appropriate offerings to the ancestors were stone objects and metal (e.g., copper), elements of the earth. These objects and imagery are consistently found together in offerings today known as pagos, payments to the earth and the spiritual entities tied to it, including the ancestors, a predominant life force associated with water. From colonial and modern ethnographic accounts we find that the ancestors “thirsted” and that this thirst needed to be quenched. From ancient times to the present, such libation offerings to the ancestors were made with chicha. Although the vessel forms of Wari ceramic offerings are variable, all were used in the service and consumption of beverages, probably primarily chicha. Many of the vessels

Figure 143 [76]. Pendant with figurine; Spondylus shell, stone, and metal; 13.3 x 11.4 x 5.1 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas, X88255. Photo: Don Cole.

included in these ritual smashing acts are decorated with imagery of supernatural beings and human figures drawn from an old iconography linked to monumental religious and political centers of Andean culture. The offerings are also often linked to the earth, which connects them to the ancestors, the life-giving source of water. Water is the underlying theme of these ceremonies, which were surely given urgency by the fact that the Wari period began and ended with extended droughts. Just as water is a source of fertility in nature, so too is chicha in association with the earth and the ancestors. In Inca times it was offered to sacred places and to the ancestors by being poured on the ground.27 One early

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historic account of the role of chicha in Inca religious practice reports that “the best and most important part of the Indian sacrifices, is chicha. By it and with it the festivals of the huacas [sacred places or objects] begin, because of it they happen, and with it, they end. It is everything.”28 This belief and practice exist even today in traditional societies.29 In southern highland society, chicha is a fluid associated with fertility.30 The substance itself has a frothy appearance, resembling semen, and rituals play out this analogy. As early as Moche culture, which predated and overlapped with Wari culture on the north coast, evidence exists for the consumption of chicha from vessels that

explicitly link the beverage to sexuality and fertility.31 Elsewhere in South America, such as the Amazonian region, whose people share related ideologies, a ceramic bowl containing chicha represents the female or wife, and it is offered to the male, the husband. The ceremony thus signifies procreation by the two. Moreover, the ceramic vessel offering of chicha is ceremonially and ritually tied to the perpetuation of crops and livestock. As mentioned above, according to various Andean ethnographic accounts, both the spiritual and earthly worlds (especially the ancestors) “thirst” for this libation as a means of maintaining their fertile powers.32 A drought that lasted for several decades during the sixth century33 may have been the impetus for the Wari expansion; it drove the Wari to acquire arable lands outside the heartland. The regions on which they imposed the heaviest control were those that could supply a regular flow of food and other key resources to the Ayacucho heartland. Consequently, the rituals the Wari performed in these territories were aimed at legitimizing their presence through the promise of their

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ancestors. By implanting their own ancestors, perhaps represented by the co-opted ancient frontal staff deity, as idols and effigies into the new territories and offering them chicha to satisfy their thirst, they hoped to draw water to local farm and pasture lands. Other types of offerings were also essential: items of copper, Spondylus shell, and stone associated with the earth, water, and the ancestors. A similar technique was employed to obtain important ritual items, such as Spondylus shell and copper: ceramic vessels with key Wari imagery, namely supernatural creatures, seem to have been used to facilitate trade with north coast societies for Spondylus shell (see fig. 30). Throughout Peru archaeologists have recorded symbols of Wari power, one expression being the Wari ceramic offering tradition. For several hundred years the Wari were a predominant presence on the Andean landscape, their ideology influencing many peoples. While evidence of the power of Wari ancestors can never be fully understood, scholars continue to gain insights through the broken pieces of this rich and intriguing tradition.

notes

1. Cobo [1653] 1890–95, vol. 3, bk. 13, chap. 21; Benson and Cook 2001, 1. 2. For northern China, see Kuen Lee and Zhu 2002; for the Minoan Greeks, see Tompkins 2009; for the Mimbres culture, see Brody 1977; for the Mississippian peoples, see Pollack et al. 1987. 3. Cook 1985; Cook 1979; W. Isbell and Cook 2002; W. Isbell and Cook 1987; Tello 1942. 4. Demarest 1981. 5. Figure 59 likely depicts this activity. 6. W. Isbell and Cook 1987. 7. Menzel 1964, 23. 8. Ibid., 19, 26. 9. Ibid., 3–4. 10. W. Isbell 1977b, 231; McEwan 1998, 82. 11. El Proyecto Arqueológico Maymi (Anders 1990), directed by Martha Anders. See also Anders et al. 1998. 12. See Anders 1990, fig. 10. 13. See ibid., figs. 12a, b. 14. Moseley et al. 1991. 15. Williams et al. 2002, 69–73. 16. J. Topic and T. Topic 1992. 17. Glowacki and Malpass 2003, 441–43. 18. Ibid. 19. Cobo [1653] 1890–95, vol. 3, bk. 13, chap. 47; Duviols 1978; Sarmiento de Gambo [1572] 1942, 70; see also Sherbondy 1982.

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20. This is based on an analogy with the site Pachacamac, near Lima. The Spaniards say that, during the Inca period (AD 1400–1532), Pachacamac functioned as an oracle that had “branch” or “satellite” temples in various areas of the Andes (see, for example, Vega [1609] 1987, 71, 78, 379–80, 384). Some suggest that the same was true during the Wari period (see Shea 1969, v–vi). 21. Glowacki 1996, 456–57; McEwan 1984b, 16. 22. Glowacki 2000. Julinho Zapata and I recorded a single but significant offering during 1996–97 field investigations. 23. Bauer 1999, 64–66. 24. Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011. 25. For instance, Cook 1992; Glowacki and Malpass 2003; J. Topic and T. Topic 1992. 26. For instance, Allen 1988, 153–54. 27. Arriaga [1621] 1968, 137; Cobo [1653] 1890–95, vol. 3, bk. 13, chap. 21–22. 28. Arriaga [1621] 1968, 209. 29. Allen 1988, 149. 30. Weismantel, 273. 31. Bergh 1993. 32. Allen 1988, 47. 33. Thompson et al. 1985.

Susan E. Bergh

Tapestry-woven Tunics

Figure 144 [117]. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 102.2 x 102.2 cm. Dallas Museum of Art, The Eugene and Margaret McDermott Art Fund, Inc., in honor of Carol Robbins’ 40th anniversary with the Dallas Museum of Art, 2004.55McD.

Wari tapestry-woven tunics, versions of an ancient garment type known in the native languages of the Andes as unku (Quechua) and khawa (Aymara), belong to a distinguished tradition of ancient Andean tapestry weaving that culminated chronologically with the Inca, the last completely indigenous culture to develop in the region before the Spanish conquest (fig. 144).1 Tapestry, which refers to cloth woven in a specific way rather than to pictorial cloth in general, made its debut in the Andes during the first millennium BC2 and quickly became a prestige fabric used not for interior furnishings, its principal function in the West, but for sumptuous garments such as tunics (shirts), mantles (shoulder wraps), and loincloths. By the time of the Inca Empire, tapestry-woven textiles were classified as cumbi (also spelled “qompi”), a category of treasured, superior-quality cloth that Inca royalty claimed as their exclusive privilege, whether for personal wear or to bestow as esteemed gifts to strengthen bonds of loyalty.3 In the early years following the conquest, Spanish commentators shared this enthusiasm for cumbi, which they uniformly ranked as finer than European cloth and admired for its exquisite, silk-like softness and technical refinement.4 The Spaniards’ eye for textiles is not surprising since in pre-industrial Europe cloth was highly valued because of the enormous amount of labor and time that its creation demanded. As textile scholar Ann Pollard Rowe remarks,5 it is no accident that the Industrial Revolution focused first on streamlining the production of this costly, essential commodity, which was so expensive that in the late eighteenth-century United States it was harder to obtain than food and lodging.6 Rowe goes on

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to say that, in areas of the world where cloth is made entirely by hand as it was in the ancient Andes, the process of creating it usually ranks second only to food production in economic and occupational importance—an astonishing statement from a contemporary perspective. But in the Andes cloth’s importance went far beyond the economic. For instance, in one of the most celebrated quotes in Andean studies, John Murra concluded that among the Inca “no political, military, social, or religious event was complete without textiles being volunteered or bestowed, burned, exchanged, or sacrificed.”7 Experts assume that cloth had similar importance, if not identical uses, in many earlier Andean cultures, which together created one of the most aesthetically accomplished and technically innovative textile legacies in the world. Wari textiles are a crucial chapter in this history, particularly tapestry-woven cloth. Using the tapestry weave Wari weavers fabricated several types of garments, among them mantles and headbands (fig. 145; see also [131], p. 274). Far more common, however, are tunics, which likely served as partial inspiration for the cumbi tapestry-woven tunics that Inca rulers, nobles, and state functionaries wore (see fig. 240).8 Except for a handful of stone sculptures, the tunics are the largest of Wari artifact types and certainly the most complex. Their intricacy derives from the physical structure of the cloth—for the initiated, a fascinating world into which the ancients poured intellectual energy—along with more visible systems of artistic composition, including flamboyant color, format, imagery, and an arcane, cerebral convention for distorting imagery that culminates in a geometric abstraction admired today for its “modern-ness.”

Figure 145 [130]. Head­ band; camelid fiber and cotton; 67 x 12 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1965.32.1.

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The Tapestry Weave and Tunic Construction A few features of the tapestry weave—a simple structure from which the ancients wrought great aesthetic complexity—contributed to its choice as a preferred fabric type for high-status garments. First, it lends itself to the creation of intricate, mosaic-like patterns made up of areas of pure, undiluted color that are woven into the cloth rather than added to a pre-existing fabric with needlework. This is accomplished by passing the wefts—the multicolored yarns that the artist worked horizontally during weaving—back and forth in areas that range from tiny to large, and then packing the wefts down so tightly that they completely conceal the undyed, vertical warps.9 The packing-down consumes extravagant amounts of yarn and, of course, the labor and time the extravagance implies. The process begins with gathering and/ or growing the fiber (silky camelid hair for the weft and either cotton or camelid fiber for the warp) and continues with harvesting and cleaning. Next are the very time-consuming tasks of spinning and plying, and then dyeing, often with precious colorants. Only then can weaving commence, followed by garment construction. In other words the tapestry weave is resource-intensive at every stage of manufacture, which is no doubt another reason both the Inca and the Wari revered it as a noble cloth. A shorthand way to state the human investment is to say that a Wari tapestry-woven tunic of routine quality incorporates around seven miles of carefully handmade yarn, while the finest example so far documented has an extraordinary eighteen miles.10 Based on comparing yarn counts, an objective measure of quality, Wari tapestry weaving far outstrips even the greatest tapestry weavings of sixteenth-century northern Europe, which are

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among the most famous examples of the technique in the world.11 In an added refinement Wari tapestry weavers painstakingly finished the cloth on both its faces, one of the essential qualities of cumbi among the Inca; in contrast, European counterparts have a distinct back or wrong side marked by dangling yarns. In creating a tapestry-woven tunic the great majority of the effort went into producing the cloth. Garment construction was straightforward since, like most Andean clothing, Wari tunics are not elaborately tailored affairs made of pieces cut from a larger whole. Rather, the cloth was woven to shape on the loom and while there completely finished on all but one of its edges, a process that required weavers to conceptualize every aspect of design before work commenced. Wari tunics consist of two such loom-shaped panels that most often are simple rectangles, each about 50 by 200 centimeters (20 by 80 inches). The panels were placed side by side and stitched together along a seam that falls at the tunic’s center; they were then folded in half to form the shoulder line and seamed up the sides. Gaps in the seams serve as openings for the neck and arms. The resulting, roomy garment is roughly 100 cm (40 in.) on a side and on a person of five-foot stature fell to the knees at the front and back and well below the elbows at the sides. Artistic representations suggest that tunics were sometimes belted and were worn without a lower body garment, or at least one that was visible below the tunic’s lower edge. Imagery and Wearer In the Andes tunics were an essential article of men’s attire; as the scholar R. Tom Zuidema has observed, they cannot be understood without imagining the presence of the lords who wore them—the iconographic whole was the

sponds to official functions, if only in a loose way, since that imagery also is standardized to encompass a narrow range of motifs, only one of which usually repeats in different orientations and colors in any given tunic.14 Unfortunately, little can now be said about these functions as most representations of tunicwearing individuals provide few hints and the vast majority of tunics come from unscientific excavations, most probably of tombs that may have held insignia related to the roles the deceased played in life. There are one or two exceptions, however, and the tunics themselves can be used to make broad generalizations.

Figure 147 [144]. Fourcornered hat with geometric motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 12.4 x 17.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Arthur M. Bullowa, 1983, 1983.497.6. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

lord, including tunic, ornaments, headgear, and other paraphernalia.12 Based on artistic representations, ornaments included large ear spools that undoubtedly also signaled high status, as they did among the Inca (see pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”). Headgear ranged over several different types, among which four-cornered hats were important (figs. 146, 147).13 Other items certainly sometimes included staffs, one of the period’s most important symbols of human and divine sovereignty (see fig. 1). The sumptuousness and great standardization in the size, format, color, construction, and technical features of Wari tunics have long suggested that, as among the Inca, they were made under state auspices and worn by those important to the administration of the Wari polity: rulers, their representatives, and probably valued allies, who received them as prestigious gifts. This supposition raises the possibility that the tunics’ imagery corre-

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Figure 146 [36]. Figure in tapestry-woven tunic and four-cornered hat; ceramic and slip; 28.7 x 23 cm. Fundación Museo Amano, Lima, FMAC-000020. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

Profile-face and Stepped-fret Tunics One of the most common of Wari tunic types features a profile-face and stepped-fret (facefret) motif (fig. 144).15 In the arts such tunics appear on humans of unknown identity but obvious power: one strikes a pose akin to that of the staff deity, arms outstretched and hands cupped to form holes into which implements, perhaps staffs of authority or weapons, were once likely inserted (fig. 146). Clear military associations for this tunic type occur in ceramics recently unearthed at Conchopata, an important Wari site near the capital; on these vessels fierce, axe-wielding warriors dressed in face-fret tunics, probably military leaders, parade in belligerent ceremonial display (see fig. 7).16 The Wari also occasionally associated the face-fret with supernatural sacrificers in

Figure 148 [121]. Views of the front and back of this tunic are arranged as though the tunic is unfolded at the shoulder, marked by a white line. A single profile face appears in the third row from the bottom. Tunic with paired-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 98 x 106 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 57-20-245 (NM 245).

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Figure 149 [123]. Tunic with face-fret and interlocked U-shaped motifs; camelid fiber; 106 x 94 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8604. Image: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, Anthropology. Photo: Craig Chesek.

tapestry-woven tunics as well as ceramics on which the staff deity also appears (see fig. 102).17 In at least some cases, then, the motif seems to relate to conflict and death, some of it cosmically sanctioned. What the motif represents is still mysterious. The consistent pairing of the face and fret implies that they have complementary and reinforcing meanings, but the fret’s formal simplicity and presumed abstraction have so far resisted interpretation.18 The face too has few identifying features beyond its eye ornament, vertically divided eye, and the N-shaped canines that it often bares, all generic traits of the suprahuman in Wari art. Unconfirmed

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suggestions about its identity, to which the sacrificer should be added, include a trophy head or the head of one of the staff deity’s winged attendants.19 With a few exceptions, face-fret tunics are only ordinary in quality (as measured by yarn counts); thus their wearers, though distinguished, probably did not occupy the summit of the Wari hierarchy.20 These tunics divide into several subtypes that may correlate with variations in time or place of manufacture;21 a small group of tunics combines the facefret with other geometric motifs, and the fret sometimes appears on its own in compositionally related examples (figs. 148, 149).

Figures 150a, 150b [114]. Views of the front and back of this tunic are arranged as though the tunic is unfolded at the shoulder, marked by a white line. Perhaps in antiquity one row of figures was removed from one edge (at the top of the photograph). The detail below shows two figures from the lower left corner. Tunic with sacrificer; camelid fiber and cotton; 106.7 x 112 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund 2007.179.

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Figure 151 [116]. Tunic with sacrificer-related creature; camelid fiber and cotton; 100 x 112 cm. Museum der Kulturen, Basel, collected by Hans Theodor Cron (1921–1964), IVc23577. Photo: Markus Gruber, 2008.

Winged Attendant and Sacrificer Tunics Another very large group of tapestry-woven tunics features the figures that in other contexts accompany the staff deity: sacrificers, which appear in more than a half-dozen iterations that always include a weapon and a human victim or its head (figs. 150, 151), and, much more commonly, the more benign winged attendants, which occur in bewildering variety (figs. 152, 153). The attendants are

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always shown in profile, bent on one knee, holding a staff of authority to the front of the body, and wearing a complex headdress; an elaborate wing sprouts from the back, usually over an appendage that streams from the figure’s neck (fig. 154). But there the similarity ends. Ornaments that festoon the figures change kaleidoscopically and so do the figures’ heads, which range from birds and animals to humans and others whose heritage

Figure 152 [103]. These large fragments come from a tunic that had sleeves. Each represents the length of the tunic from the shoulder to the lower edge. Together, they probably formed a single panel that has been divided along the shoulder line. Tunic fragments with bird-headed staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 90 x 53 cm and 89.4 x 53.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 2005.53.a–b.

is unclear. In total, the tunics feature more than twenty distinct versions of the winged attendant.22 Most versions of this figure type appear in only a few tunics, but three occur in many more examples. Of those three, two are adorned with figures, both with heads raised up, that are different and yet so similar they raise suspicion of kinship.23 One is a birdheaded attendant that may conflate the features of several species, including the Andean condor (one of the world’s largest birds of flight) and other raptors such as a falcon or the harpy eagle, as well as a parrot, perhaps one whose brilliant feathers were a form of wealth (figs. 152, 154 right). The second figure is an

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attendant with an animal head of unclear derivation and a persistently two-fingered “hand” undoubtedly based on the cloven hooves of a deer or, perhaps more likely, one of the Andean camelids—llama, alpaca, vicuña, or guanaco (figs. 153, 154 left). Although the two figures’ heads and elaborate eye markings are distinct, many of the remaining ornaments are virtually identical, down to a unique combination of headdress trimmings that include small heads with L-shaped mouths. (In a few tunics with the bird-headed attendant, such as the one illustrated, bird heads substitute in the headdress.) None of the other tapestrywoven attendants share as many features as these two. In terms of quality, however, tunics

Figure 153 [104]. Tunic with camelid- or deerheaded staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 103.7 x 108.5 cm. Deutsches Textilmuseum, Krefeld, 12299/2558.

Figure 154. Comparison of the camelid- or deerheaded creature (left) and the bird-headed creature (right). The camelid (or deer) has somewhat different side-to-side proportions because of the effects of distortion. Tracings: Susan E. Bergh, based on a tunic at the Textile Museum, Washington, DC, 91.386 (left) and Taullard 1949, 56 (right).

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Figure 155 [106]. Tunic with feline-headed staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 104.7 x 102.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1961.3.17.

Figure 156. Feline-headed staff-bearing creatures from a tunic very similar to that shown in Figure 155. Tracing: Susan E. Bergh, based on a tunic at the Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 34-50-6.

with the bird-headed attendant are superior to those with the camelid (or deer). They incorporate many more figure repeats, an index of weaving skill and investment, as well as far more yarn, much of it a deep indigo-dyed blue, the most prestigious color that Wari weavers employed. That the bird and camelid (or deer) relate to one another is further suggested by the interest that most other winged attendant and sacrificer tunics evince in paired figures.24 Rather than being segregated in different tunics, however, these two figures—often closely similar but sometimes very different—alternate regularly with one another in the same garment. In the third large group of winged at-

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tendant tunics, for instance, the figures, whose upright ears may refer to ancestry in the feline world, are identical except for the decoration of headdresses, neck appendages, and staffs, here perhaps transformed into the hunter’s (or warrior’s) spear-thrower by the side hook that emerges from the upper portion (figs. 155, 156). The staffs are of particular interest since they represent two types that the Wari used very often to distinguish figural variants, at least in the tunics: a wavy zigzag decorates the shaft of one and a nested square the length of the other. The same contrast occurs in sacrificer tunics, one very beautiful example of which provides illustration (figs. 157, 158). To one side of its body the figure holds a panpipe

Figure 157 [113]. Tunic with sacrificer; camelid fiber and cotton; 103.4 x 110.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1966.5.2.

Figure 158. The sacrificer featured on the tunic shown in Figure 157. On the left is the entire figure, its rear portions contracted and nearly illegible. On the right is the expanded rear portion of another figure repeat. Tracing: Susan E. Bergh.

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and to the other an axe with a haft patterned by either the zigzag or the nested square.25 These two versions are otherwise established only by consistent, subtle differences in the orientation of the bird heads that dangle from the sacrificer’s belt. This insistence on paired figures finds its likeliest explanation in dualism, a principle so fundamental in the Andes that it has structured native thought and practice from ancient times to the present day (see pp. 103–21, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”).26 Generally stated, dualism is founded on the conviction that the world comes into being and continues to exist through the dialectical, give-and-take balancing of two forces that are at once intrinsically antagonistic but profoundly complementary and indispensable to one another. The two forces or principles are often gendered male and female but also conceived as many other natural dyads, such as left-right and upperlower. Today and in the past, Andeans activate this pervasive way of thinking in two broad ways that often interpenetrate, one reinforcing and legitimizing the other, but do not necessarily imply each other.27 One is in the realm of symbolic thought, including beliefs about the unseen structure and workings of the universe. Given the tunics’ numinous imagery—the attendants and sacrificers that are the intimates of the all-important staff deity—it seems safe to say that, at a minimum, the dualism upon which the tunics insist characterized important aspects of Wari cosmological belief, religion, and perhaps ritual, although how remains elusive. Other testimony in this regard is offered by the two staff deities that alternate with each other on the interiors of Wari feasting vessels from the south coast, one identified as male and the other as female based on differences in wardrobe (see figs. 5a, 5b).28 It is harder to know whether the Wari also put dualism to use in social and political domains in the manner of many late preHispanic and contemporary Andean people. For instance, at the time of the Spaniards’ arrival, the Aymara-speaking Lupaqa of the Lake Titicaca region divided their realm into two parts (moieties) that they described as upper (alasaa) and lower (masaa) and ranked hierar-

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chically in relation to each other. Two paramount lords joined forces to govern the Lupaqa polity as a whole, Qari of the upper part and Qusi of the lower part, but Qari’s status and wealth were greater, reflecting the ranking. Each Lupaqa province was similarly organized and ruled by subordinate paired lords who were subject to Qari and Qusi.29 Inca society adopted the same kind of ranked, binary organization although there is no agreement about whether Inca rulers governed in pairs in which one partner held higher status.30 If the Wari bird and camelid (or deer) tunics were in simultaneous use—a still-open question since the tunics’ chronology is unsettled—it may be that they reflect such dual social organization and its concomitant paired, ranked political offices since the two tunic groups offer clear evidence of ranking through the very marked differences in their quality. Conceivably, those who wore other tunics with paired figures also carried out political functions in tandem, their complementary roles symbolized by their different staffs and accouterments. But further investigation, both archaeological and art historical, is needed before it can be said unequivocally that dualism premised the organization of Wari society in addition to the symbolic domain.31 Other Tunic Types In extant tunics other iconography occurs less frequently than the face-fret motif, winged attendants, and sacrificers. Among these scarcer images is a profile creature whose head varies in aspect between human and animal. Most often a tail-like angular scroll, sometimes tipped with a bird or animal head, curves behind its severely geometricized “body,” but a handlike motif sometimes replaces the scroll (fig. 159). The most complex versions include other motifs, including plants (fig. 160).32 Typically, this profile creature confronts a mirror image of itself, and the two profile visages merge into a single frontal face.33 What it connotes is unknown. It appears on a tunic, rare in its small size, that may have clothed an important and treasured child or perhaps an object of some kind (fig. 159). An unusual small tapestrywoven panel that has the proportions of a mantle may be another child’s garment (fig. 161).34

Figure 159 [125]. This small tunic may have been made for a child or for an object. Tunic; camelid fiber and cotton; 55 x 53.7 cm. Private collection. Photo: Maury Ford.

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Figure 160 [126]. Tunic; camelid fiber and cotton; 100 x 106 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Exchange, 1962.5.1.

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Figure 161 [98]. Panel; camelid fiber and cotton; 77 x 109.5 cm. Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, 931.11.1. Photo: with permission of the Royal Ontario Museum © ROM.

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Figure 162 [127]. Tunic with skulls; camelid fiber and cotton; 220 x 115 cm. Museo de Arte de Lima Collection, Prado Family Bequest, 2.1-1241-IV. Conserved with the support of the Southern Peru Copper Corporation 2001. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar. Figure 163. The geometric motif with profile bird heads. After Sawyer 1963, type IIb; courtesy the Textile Museum, Washington, DC.

Another group of tunics features a meander motif disposed in horizontal fields, a radical departure from the far more typical vertical banding. Imagery is often superimposed on the meander and much of it seems strongly oriented toward death, usually skulls (fig. 162) but also columns of vertebra-like motifs and, in one instance, a stunning sacrificer that is among the most complex and monumental known.35 In technical terms tunics of the final group, adorned with a sophisticated geometric motif that incorporates profile bird heads, are among the finest that Wari weavers created (fig. 163). Their iconography again indicates that the Wari associated birds with the highest status members of their society, who may have carried the title “mallku” (condor) or

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Figure 164 [107]. Tunic with staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 97 x 144.9 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of the Ernest Erickson Foundation, Inc., 86.244.109.

“huamani” (falcon), as paramount rulers did in later Andean times.36 Sadly, these tunics often survive only as fragments.37 In addition to these discrete groups of tunics are several examples with imagery that is so far less usual (see fig. 81). Sleeved Tunics In Wari art the staff deity consistently appears in a garment that represents a tapestry-woven tunic, to judge from the vertical banding that stripes the chest. But this is no ordinary tunic. Rather, it appears to correspond to a special rare type that unlike all others has sleeves (fig. 164);38 in artistic representations the sleeves, patterned with interlocked L-shaped motifs, fit snugly around the god’s upper arms. There

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can be no doubt that sleeved tunics were the raiment of only the most exalted individuals— in all likelihood, paramount rulers themselves—since they are among the most sublime achievements of ancient Andean tapestry weaving, standing at the apex of that long and bannered tradition in its entirety.39 Several tunics with the bird-headed partner of the camelid (or deer) once were sleeved (fig. 152). Most other sleeved tunics also feature winged attendants or sacrificers, but a few feature other imagery. Three technical features provide the gauge of these tunics’ quality. In comparison to unsleeved examples, they routinely incorporate between four and eight more miles of yarn and flaunt many more than twice the

number of figure repeats, which generally do not skimp on iconographic details even though they are smaller because the weavers fit them into a standard tunic size. Also, halffigures appear along the side seams of some sleeved tunics; when the seam was created, it united a front half with a back half to form a nearly perfectly matched whole (fig. 165). These figures demand very precise control of spacing and proportions among many other things and cause modern weavers to sigh in admiration. The industrialization of textile production has dulled our sensitivity to such refinements, but the original audience, deeply familiar with the hand-weaver’s art, would have been alive to both them and the virtuosity and status that they represent. It is not surprising, then, that the sleeved tunic had a special ceremonial charge signaled not only by its association with the deity but also by the fact that the only known miniatures of Wari tapestry-woven tunics have sleeves (figs. 166, 167). These exquisite tunics, too small for even a human infant, likely had devotional purposes. Ceremony may also have motivated the ancients to slice the sleeves from some tunics, as though decommissioning them, an act that may have occurred before the tunics were pulled over mummy bundles and deposited in tombs. One of the very few tunics to have been scientifically recovered, from a grave at Ancón on Peru’s central coast, has been so desleeved (figs. 168, 169).40 Why did the ancients endow the sleeved tunic with such high status? One possible reason is that sleeves were adopted as prestigious exotica from the Moche, among whom the sleeved tunic seems to have been a tradition.41 The Moche dominated the north coast of Peru in the years just before the Wari came to power. If true, the emulation is one of several hints that at least some sleeved tunics were created very early, at the threshold of the Middle Horizon as elites scrambled to take advantage of shifting conditions provoked by the decline and transformation of earlier cultures and the ascendance of a new order. In these circumstances the sublime quality of sleeved tunics would have helped establish the prestige both of the humans who wore them and of the religion that the staff deity represents. That

Figure 165 [102]. This fragment is from a tunic’s side seam, a remnant of which runs up the fragment’s center. The original tunic does not appear to have had sleeves, but the fragment is one of the best extant examples of the matching of half-figures across seams. The tunic shown in Figure 168 also had matched half-figures at the side seams. Tunic fragment with staff-bearing creatures in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 54 x 15 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 66028. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

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Figure 168 [108]. This large fragment, excavated at Ancón, comes from a tunic that had sleeves. The shoulder line, toward the top of the fragment, is marked by a reversal in the orientation of the figures. Tunic fragment with figures; camelid fiber and cotton; 118.5 x 103.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 7468 (16). Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Dietrich Graf. Figures 169a–c [110–112]. Mummy bundle from the necropolis at Ancón, a site on Peru’s central coast, along with a rendering of the tomb in which the bundle was found. The bundle is dressed in the tunic shown in Figure 168; the work basket shown in Figure 170 was found at the side of the bundle. After Reiss and Stübel 1880–87, pls. 17, 16, and 10.

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Figure 170 [109]. Weaver’s work basket and contents, from Ancón; bone, camelid fiber, cotton, reeds, and wood; 20 x 26 x 18 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 5816a–t. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

Figure 171 [132]. Glove; camelid fiber and cotton; 28.6 x 22.1 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Charles Stewart Smith Memorial Fund and Museum Collection Fund, 58.204.

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Figure 172 [119]. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 108.6 x 109.7 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1941, 91.343.

is, rather than simply reflecting a grandeur already achieved, sleeved tunics may have played an active role in conveying the appeal of the new cult and promoting its spread.42 A unique glove-like tapestry testifies to continuing cross-fertilization between Moche and Wari weaving traditions later in the Middle Horizon (fig. 171). On it a weapons-bearing Moche warrior appears with small felines and profile zoomorphic heads of Wari derivation. Distortion The most fascinating and peculiar of the tunics’ features is a deliberate, systematic, and rule-bound method of distorting form that is uniquely Wari; it occurs at no other time

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in the Andes or even in any other Wari medium.43 The concept is simple but the aesthetic ramifications are complex: the portions of each motif closest to the tunic’s center expand from side to side and the parts closest to the sides narrow and compress.44 The system’s operation may be easiest to grasp in face-fret tunics: Figure 144 illustrates a tunic with relatively undistorted imagery; Figure 172 shows severe distortion of the same imagery. But distortion also appears in most other tunic groups; since Alan Sawyer first defined it in 1963, it has been most celebrated for its effects on winged attendant and sacrificer imagery, which according to some anticipate twentiethcentury abstract art (see pp. 5–27, “The Histo-

Figure 173. Distortion in two tunics with birdheaded staff-bearing creatures in profile. Drawings: Milton Sonday, with minor modifications; courtesy the Textile Museum, Washington, DC.

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Figure 174 [105]. Tunic with camelid- or deerheaded staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 100 x 92 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, RT-1650. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

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Figure 175. Distortion in the tunic shown in Figure 174. Drawing: Milton Sonday, with minor modifications; courtesy the Textile Museum, Washington, DC. staff

ry of Inquiry into the Wari and Their Arts”).45 Figure 173 compares undistorted and moderately distorted versions of the bird-headed winged attendant discussed earlier. On the left, the proportions of the attendant, which is rendered in a somewhat geometricized style, are normal except for an enlarged back foot. On the right, one repeat of the same figure appears on either side of the tunic’s unusually striped center line. The staff of the rightmost figure has widened considerably while the headdress and three-feathered wing have narrowed. The reverse occurs in the leftmost figure in accord with its changed relationship to the tunic’s center and side: the wing and headdress expand but the staff contracts. All other parts of the figure, now very geometricized, follow suit. In the most extreme application whole sections of the figure disappear and the remainder is reduced to a collection of geometric forms whose legibility is further compromised by color (figs. 174, 175). An added twist head

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affects the width of the vertical bands, which often narrow progressively toward the tunic’s sides; in a few cases this narrowing creates the illusion of cylindrical volume as the central bands appear to advance and the sidemost bands to recede.46 Why did they do it? There is no final answer, but many believe that distortion is not iconographic—that is, it holds no symbolic or other meaning that can be interpreted. Rather, it is sheerly an aesthetic contrivance perhaps undertaken to relieve the tunics’ repetitive simplicity,47 to disguise and mystify their sacred imagery,48 or as a delightful intellectual exercise with form that endows the tunics with a pleasing rhythmic syncopation and, by providing a glimpse into the workings of a lively, playful intelligence, gives them a human approachability.49 The so-far unproven implication of some of these views is that distortion registers chronology, that its effects became more profound through time as weavers pushed the system to its extreme and logical conclusion.50 Although nothing is known of the relationship that Wari artists had with their state patrons, aesthetic motivations must be given serious consideration since not doing so risks denying these ancient artists the creative genius accorded their counterparts in other parts of the world, especially the West.51 If the wellspring was purely artistic invention, however, it is much harder to say whether its goal was abstraction, particularly in the sense that it is understood today in the West. But in view of the tunics’ presumed state sponsorship it is possible that artists developed this aesthetic innovation in concert with iconographic concerns—in other words, distortion has meaning, and this meaning does nothing to diminish the ingenuity with which artists chose to express it. It was explained above that the great majority of winged attendant and sacrificer tunics depict two figural variants: bird and camelid (or deer) as well as many others differentiated by the staffs they carry and a range of other traits both subtle and obvious. Distortion also results in figural variants that are both the same and different; as though in vacillating states of being, one expands at the front but contracts at the rear, while the other reverses its companion by nar-

rowing at the front and widening at the back (fig. 173).52 When these effects are combined with figures’ directional orientations, the number of visually discrete figural variants doubles from two to four, the last comprising two right-facing versions (one with front expanded and the other with front collapsed) and two left-facing versions of the same kind. Reasons to believe that left-right directionality may have had significance come from the tunics themselves53 as well as from many late pre-Hispanic and contemporary societies in the Andes, which, in line with habits of dualistic thought and social organization, routinely accord meaning to left and right by associating them with the members of complementary but opposed dialectical pairs, including male and female and the parts of dually partitioned communities.54 If this logic concerning distortion and motif orientation is applied to other kinds of tunics—such as those with the face-fret, the profile creature, or the geometric motif with bird heads—the number of variants doubles again to eight since the motifs in these groups appear not only in left-right orientations but also rightside-up and upside-down. The same is true of the skull and vertebra-like imagery that appears on tunics with the meander motif; all are rendered in at least two, often four, and sometimes eight distinct variants if the effects of distortion and orientation are taken into account. Thus, distortion may be involved in the exploration of a series of numbers that today is important to many realms of mathematical inquiry: a geometric progression (or geometric sequence) generated by multiplying successive terms by a fixed number, known as the common ratio. In the tunics’ case the common ratio is two and the sequence is two, four, eight, and on. The tunics’ format often shows a similar preoccupation. Format Two number systems seem to guide the tunics’ compositional format, which in the great majority of cases is based on the alternation of plain and patterned vertical bands and, across the latter, the horizontal alignment of motifs in rows. Most commonly, the numbers of vertical bands, horizontal rows, and motifs are

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founded on the geometric progression rooted in the number two. The tunic in Figure 155 offers an easy illustration: the two main patterned bands together contain a total of sixteen repeats of a winged attendant, eight on each side of the tunic, or two sets of four, one to either side of the center seam. Face-fret tunics extend the progression; for instance, the tunic in Figure 144 has four main patterned bands and eight rows that generate sets of sixteen, thirty-two, and sixty-four motifs on each of the tunic’s sides. The same is true of profile creature, profile bird head, and even the oddly formatted meander tunics, which lack vertical bands but invariably repeat their additional imagery—the skulls, vertebra-like motifs, and others—in numbers that correspond to the progression. Pairs and quartets also seem to be emphasized in several other ways, such as the four-part mirroring of imagery over crosslike vertical and horizontal axes (figs. 159, 160, 163). The second most common progression embedded in the tunics’ format seems to be based on the number five and doublings to ten, twenty, and forty. The incidence of the two types of progression varies among tunic groups; the first is by far the most common except in face-fret tunics, which split about evenly between the two. Other format-based progressions are rarer and often occur in tunics that are idiosyncratic in other ways. Color The tunics’ complex color also often plays with the predominant set of numbers that seems to guide format and motif variation.55 In most tunic groups the repeated imagery is woven in several standard color blocks or combinations that repeat in very regular sequences down the length of the vertical bands; the overwhelming majority of tunics feature a total of four blocks, although other numbers also occasionally occur. For instance, in face-fret tunics, the frets typically are either red with a gold surround or two shades of gold, and the faces are either gold on a brown “ground” or pink on tan (fig. 144); the bodies of winged attendants and sacrificers usually appear in red and three shades of gold to which the colors of details add further distinctive character (fig. 153). Blue and, less commonly, green sometimes substitute for

other colors, especially tan and related pale shades; this enhancement is one of the indications that, as during the Italian Renaissance, blue was a rare and prized exotic.56 When traced across the body of the tunic, the color blocks generate large-scale geometric patterns, most based on diagonals that continue from one vertical band of motifs to the next, skipping over the intervening solid band as though it does not exist.57 In four-block tunics the most frequent pattern has two sets of diagonals, each a pair, that oppose or reverse one another in direction. One pair rises from right to left (fig. 176a) and interleaves with another pair that rises from left to right (fig. 176b). In some tunics, the colors of the diagoFigures 176a, 176b. The opposed diagonal color pattern in a tunic with face-fret motif. The diagonals formed by the faces are shown on the left; the fret diagonals are on the right. To improve clarity, not all diagonals are colored. Graphic: Susan E. Bergh and Amanda Mikolic, based on a tunic at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, M77.70.3.

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Three additional patterns are frequent enough among four-block tunics to warrant mention. One consists of opposed chevrons in which two sets of chevrons, each a pair, lay out in interleaved directional reversals, one pointing up and the other down (figs. 179a, 179b); almost invariably each chevron is monochrome. Two others are based either on single-direction diagonals (figs. 149, 164, 172) or single-direction chevrons.60 In the former, the colors of two of the diagonals usually exchange at the center seam, while the other two pass over the center seam without color change; in the latter, both legs of each chevron are usually the same color. All three of these patterns are best represented in tunics with the face-fret and related motifs although the last two sometimes occur in other tunics as well.61 3 4

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erboard the diagonally aligned color blocks can be imagined to form two opposed chevrons that interlock with each other (one /\ and the other \/ ). Here, too, the colors sometimes change at the center seam as they do in the illustrated example, but in other cases they do not. This pattern also occurs in winged attendant and meander garments. The idea of opposed diagonals plays out in a different way in another distinctive pattern seen almost exclusively in face-fret tunics. Here the color diagonals divide the tunic into quarters by reversing direction at both the shoulder line and center seam; in doing so they create two sets of upward-oriented chevrons, one on either side of the tunic, that merge to form an X-shaped cross when the shoulder is unfolded (fig. 178). The colors usually shift at both axes, again working in pairs; in a few tunics, however, the same color continues across the center seam to form monochrome chevrons.

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color with particular vigor though different emphasis.62 Thus, as with distortion, to overlook aesthetic motivations as the source of this aspect of intricacy is to risk diminishing the creators’ artistry and the sophistication with which they enlivened the tunics by investing them with visual puzzles. Still, the tunics are the largest, most complex portable objects that the Wari made and those on which Wari elites may have most depended to convey their message. Also, although the tunics’ color may strike our eye as riotous, we are a twenty-first century audience to whom pattern analysis, developed through lifelong immersion in textiles and the mathematically based process of weaving, is foreign. If my experience with the tunics

and the visual skills of contemporary Andean people are any guide,63 the ancients had little trouble sorting out the tunics’ color and seeing great order in it. To some, this order suggests that the color patterns have content,64 although interpreting that content is perforce risky because of the figural austerity of the patterns and the relative nascency of Wari studies, among other things. Nevertheless, the textile specialist Mary Frame has offered a provocative opening salvo in interpretation by suggesting that the color patterns represent a systematized code that reflects a form of cultural knowledge and that the patterns may embody schema or formulas that had potential application to a wide range of experience.65 More specifically, she suggests that emphasis on four-color blocks may reflect an ideal of four-part division and that, collectively, the patterns might constitute a kind of catalogue of social geometries that structured human interaction in different settings or regions: as alternating, opposed dyads (opposed diagonals), twinned, alternating pairs (checkerboards), linear sequences (single-direction diagonals), and so forth. It is true that similar kinds of geometries structure many kinds of activities in the Andes today and also in antiquity. The Inca habit of dual social organization comes to mind, made relevant by the fact that they divided their bipartite society into four, after which they named their empire (Tawantinsuyu, “The Four Parts Together”), and that they mapped both bipartite and quadripartite divisions onto the plan of Cuzco, their capital. Quadripartite division also characterized other conquest-period Andean societies, some of which subdivided their populations or lands into eight and sixteen parts in further expression of dual organization.66 Of course, any suggestion of equivalent social organization among the Wari remains speculative and, if the color patterns do hold meaning, it could well be anchored in other realms. In this regard an interesting albeit contemporary example comes from the folk astronomy of natives who today live in the environs of Cuzco. These Quechua-speakers recognize several X-shaped crosses in the Southern Hemisphere sky. These include the Southern Cross, the annual motions of which

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bracket the agricultural season, as well as two others traced by the solstitial risings and settings of the sun and by the movements of the Milky Way, conceived as a river of stars that streams through the night firmament. They also identify other types of starry celestial formations, some of them chevron-shaped.67 Past and the Present It has been proposed elsewhere in this volume that Wari’s success—gauged by its impressive building projects, its transformative impact in many areas of the Andes, and the cachet that it and its artworks seem to have acquired—came in part from the belief that Wari lords possessed the ability to mediate human and cosmic affairs, to act both as intercessors in crucial matters that shaped the lives of men and women and as masters of the intersections that those matters had with the realm of unseen forces that sway them profoundly. If so, many of the tapestry-woven tunics that these men wore surely helped them to instantiate these powers, particularly those thronged by hosts of winged attendants and sacrificers, the staff deity’s numinous companions. These tunics imply that to a very great degree Wari elites’ authority derived from trust in their privileged access to the sacred realm and its denizens. Indeed, by donning such tunics Wari lords may have identified themselves with or even transformed into these figures. Or, since the deity itself seems to wear a tapestry-woven tunic, perhaps these elites, so-clothed and standing before audiences with a potent staff of sovereignty in each hand, fulfilled the role not of the faithful vassal but of the deity itself, its acolytes swarming in ordered registers on either side of the body. The divine group may even have provided a model for a hierarchically ordered human society,68 its apex defined by the deity’s human associates.69 Beyond this broad affiliation with the supernatural may have lain more specific assertions embedded in the pairs of figures routinely depicted in the tunics, which likely testify to a creed of dualism. If this creed has echoes in the thought of contemporary Andean people, it was based on the conviction that the world achieves existence through the ongoing dialectical balance and fusion of two compet-

Figure 180 [156]. Khipu; cotton; L. 190 cm (primary cord), 36 cm (longest secondary cord). Private collection.

ing but complementary principles. In highland Andean communities today, harmony between the two is achieved through the give-and-take of reciprocity and the bonds of mutual obligation that it generates. The concept structures social relations, with both assistance and injury calling forth measured repayment, as well as interactions with the natural world and with the deities of the mountains and the earth, which through offerings are induced to behave according to rules of reciprocity.70 In the words of the anthropologist Catherine Allen,71 reciprocity is the essence of modern indigenous Andean life, and the same seems to have been true among the Inca.72 The insistent dualism of some tunics, then, may testify to a belief in Wari lords’ power to bring conflicting forces, both cosmic and human, into synthesis and harmony and thus to guarantee health, prosperity, and a foothold in the future, matters that would have been lent special urgency and force by droughts that plagued the Andes just before Wari rose to power.73 The tunics’ color patterns, which so strongly emphasize the even, balanced distribution of paired directional oppositions or paired alternations, may have amplified this message whether or not they carried other meanings.74 We do not know the rituals of reciprocity with which Wari lords sought to influence the forces of nature, but in the world of human affairs they focused on feasting, the exchange of food and drink, a crucial Andean tradition that reminded participants of the mutual obligations that in later times allowed family, community,

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province, and polity to survive and thrive (see pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”). The number systems that the tunics may persistently explore—most prominently the geometric progression moored on two and doublings to four, eight, and beyond—also bespeak an interest in mathematical concepts as do the various symmetries of the plane that guide motif distribution across the body of the tunic, a fascinating aspect of composition that has not been explored in these pages.75 Although the state of research does not now allow the argument to be developed in detail, this concern with numbers and their interrelations suggests that, as others have observed,76 there is an evolutionary continuum between textiles and the khipu, a fiber recording device comprised of cords that is the Andes’ closest approach to writing. The khipu (fig. 180) is best documented among the Inca, who used it to record many kinds of numerically based information—statistics including censuses and tribute accounts as well as such narratives as histories and genealogies—via knots and distinctions of cord color, construction, and attachment.77 The code of the Inca khipu has been cracked insofar as its numbers and their hierarchies can be read, but the memory of what the numbers refer to died with the ancient khipucamayoqs (khipu makers). Examples of a distinctive kind of khipu, its cords’ upper reaches wrapped with colored yarns, have been radiocarbon dated to the Middle Horizon (fig. 180; see also [155], p. 276).78 Although cultural attribution cannot

be confirmed for those without archaeological context, a few have been found with Wari ceramics and may be Wari.79 In comparison to Inca examples, much less is known about the ways in which these earlier khipu encipher information but it is likely that they are also concerned with recording numbers. If in the tunics distortion redundantly joins other systems of composition in expressing a concern with numbers and their sequences, it holds important implications for the understanding

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1. Wari and its contemporary Tiwanaku made remarkably similar tapestry-woven tunics. Amy Oakland Rodman identifies a number of technical features that distinguish the two (Oakland 1986a; Oakland 1986b, 31–41, 230–31; Rodman and Cassman 1995; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001). This dichotomy, today widely accepted, has guided the selection of tunics for this project, although I will not be surprised if future research forces some refinement of current understanding. See Bergh forthcoming; Bergh 1999, 6–7, 72–100. 2. Conklin 1978. 3. See Phipps (2004b, 21–25) and J. Rowe (1979, 239–41) for cumbi, a category that may have consisted entirely of tapestry-woven cloth but may also have encompassed other kinds of fine fabric, such as feathered cloth. 4. Murra 1962, 711. 5. A. Rowe 1996, 330. 6. Kidwell 1976, 28. 7. Murra 1962, 722. 8. See A. Rowe (1978) and J. Rowe (1979) for Inca tunics. Tiwanaku tapestry-woven tunics also form part of the background of the Inca successors; see Cummins (2002, 59–68) for the general importance of Tiwanaku to the Inca.

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of the indigenous roots of abstraction, which has sometimes been explained in a way that takes inspiration from one strand of twentiethcentury modernism: as an artist’s experiment with form undertaken for its own sake. It may be that the tunics’ great aesthetic complexity instead has its source in the realm of mathematics—an interest in numbers and geometry ingeniously translated into form and color by fiber artists who are among the world’s most inventive.

9. See Emery 1966, 76–90, for more about the tapestry weave. 10. The averaged thread counts on which this rough, conservative calculation is based are, for a routine Wari tapestry-woven tunic, 50 wefts and 12 warps per centimeter and, for the finest example, today in a private collection, 124 wefts and 24 warps per centimeter. 11. Phipps 2004b, 24. 12. Zuidema 1992, 179. 13. Frame 1990. 14. Sawyer 1963, 3. 15. Menzel (1968; 1964) refers to the face-fret motif as the split face. 16. Ochatoma Paravicino and Cabrera Romero 2001, 202. 17. For these tunics, see Bergh (1999, cat. 309, 310); the latter has been radiocarbon dated to cal. AD 685–770 (Haeberli forthcoming). 18. But see Frame forthcoming; Frame 2005, 9–11; Frame 2001, 120, 128–30; Posnansky, cited in Goldstein 1989, 154; Stone-Miller 1995, 125, 132. 19. Conklin 1996, 383–89; Menzel 1968, 79. 20. See Cook 1996 for a contrasting opinion. 21. Bergh 1999, 510–60.

22. Ibid., 117–44, 446–509. The tunics also feature several hybrids of these two types as well as a few apparently human figures. See Bergh 1999. 23. Bergh 2009. 24. Bergh 1999, 117–44. 25. See A. Rowe 1979 for musician iconography in Wari tapestry-woven tunics. 26. The literature on dualism in ancient and contemporary Andean societies is very extensive. See Bergh 1999, chap. 3, for a partial review and bibliography. 27. For instance, Lévy-Strauss, cited in Moore 1995, 176; Urton 1993. 28. Lyon 1978, 108–13; Menzel 1977, 54; Menzel 1964, 19, 26; see also A. Rowe 1991, 116–18; A. Rowe 1979, 11. 29. Murra 1968. 30. Duviols 1979; Pärssinen 1992, 200–27; J. Rowe 1946, 202; Zuidema 1964. 31. But see Anders (1986, chap. 11) for a speculative reconstruction of Wari as a dual and quadripartite empire and J. Topic and T. Topic (1992; 2001) for their opinion that dual organization was endemic to Wari. 32. Bergh 1999, 561–84.

33. See Conklin (1996, 398; 2004c) and Sawyer (1963, 2) for their speculations concerning the identity of the motif and its components. 34. If the panel is a mantle, the orientation of the imagery in its borders indicates that it was not worn with the upper edge folded down; this contrasts to custom in later Andean times. It is difficult to establish Wari practice because bordered, tapestrywoven constructions that could have served as mantles are not very common. In those that exist, the imagery’s orientation would have accommodated folding. The small panel may well have served another purpose. 35. Knobloch 2010, fig. 21; see also Bergh 1999, fig. 86. 36. Gose 1993. 37. Bergh 1999, 606–12. 38. Rather than being stitched onto the body of the tunic, the sleeves were woven as extensions that are continuous with it. 39. Bergh 1999, 585–605; Bergh forthcoming. 40. See Young-Sánchez (2000) for an analysis of the Ancón tomb. As she points out, the tunic had been recycled into this context. 41. Other routes of transmission are possible, especially via the coastal Nasca culture. See Bergh forthcoming. 42. See Richard Burger (1988, 130–31) for his suggestion that the same was true of the awe-inspiring arts of the earlier Chavín culture. 43. However, distortion occurs in a few Tiwanaku tapestries, perhaps as a consequence of contact with Wari (Rodman and Fernandéz Lopez 2001, 125). 44. Technically stated, the rules of the system call for expansion of those parts of the motif closest to the long edge of the panel at which weaving began; this edge normally falls along the tunic’s center seam. It follows that contraction affects the elements closest to the panel’s finishing edge, generally at the side seams. A handful of tunics reverse the positions of these edges and, therefore, the direction of distortion. See Bergh 1999, 47–48.

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45. Paternosto 1996, 227. 46. Sawyer 1963, 37. 47. Ibid. 48. Stone-Miller 1995, 148. 49. Pasztory 2010, 133–34. 50. A. Rowe 1996, 402; A. Rowe 1979, 18n28; Sawyer 1963, 8, 11. Those who agree with a formalist interpretation include Bird and Skinner (1974, 11), Rodman and Fernandéz Lopez (2001, 121), and Tulchin (1997). For other interpretations, see Frame (2001, 130), Gayton (1961, 127), and Conklin (2004c, 179), whose analysis W. Isbell (2002, 456) critiques. 51. See Pasztory 1990–91. 52. Stone-Miller (1995, 147) makes a similar observation. 53. Bergh 1999, 144–48. 54. The literature in this regard is very large. See Bergh 1999, chap. 3, for a partial review. 55. Bergh 1999, 54–66. 56. Baxandall 1989, 11–15; Bergh 2009; Stone 1987; Stone-Miller 1995, 148; Stone-Miller 1992b. 57. Bergh 1999, 54–66; Frame forthcoming. The following patterns can be classified in more than one way. 58. Frame forthcoming. 59. See Bergh 1999, fig. 9.3. 60. Ibid., figs. 11, 12. 61. There are other rare color patterns, including several found in tunics with two-color blocks; see Frame forthcoming for several of them. 62. Stone 1987; Stone 1986; StoneMiller 1995; Stone-Miller 1992b. 63. For instance, Franquemont et al. 1992; Franquemont and Franquemont 1987. 64. Bergh 1999; Frame forthcoming. 65. Frame 2005, 9–12; Frame forthcoming. 66. The literature on Inca and other late pre-Hispanic socio-political organization is extensive. See Bergh (1999, 203–15) for a partial review and bibliography, to which D’Altroy (2002), Morris and von Hagen (2011), and Pärssinen (1992) can be added. 67. Silverman-Proust 1988, 226; Urton 1981. See Zuidema (1977) and Martinez (1987) for calendrical interpretations of a Wari tapestrywoven mantle. 68. Cook 1984–85; W. Isbell 1984–85. 69. See Knobloch (2010) and Makowski Hanula (2009) for dissenting opinions.

70. Allen 1988, 93–94, 187; Earls and Silverblatt 1978, 310; Mannheim 1991, 90–93. 71. Allen 1988, 91, 93, 208. 72. Cummins 2002. 73. Williams 2002, 365. 74. Bergh 1999. 75. See Frame (forthcoming) for charts of some of these symmetries and her ideas about how they relate to fiber technologies. 76. See Bergh 1999, 3–4, 34; Conklin 1986, 126; Conklin 1982, fig. 3; Frame 2005, 8–9; Frame 2001, 123; Frame 1991, 145–47; Stone-Miller 1992a, 337. 77. See, for instance, Ascher and Ascher 1981; Mackey et al. 1990; Quilter and Urton 2002; Urton 2003a; Urton 2003b. 78. For instance, one khipu returned the date AD 719–981 (fig. 180) and another, cal. AD 690–900 ([155], p. 276). My thanks to Gary Urton for sharing the dates of the khipu in [155] and several other wrappedcord khipus at the American Museum of Natural History, all of which belong to the Middle Horizon. 79. William Conklin describes the khipu that appears in Figure 180 in detail, mentioning that Yoshitaro Amano found similar wrapped-cord khipu fragments in a tomb at Pampa Blanca in the Nasca drainage, with Wari ceramics of the Middle Horizon’s second epoch (Conklin 1982). Another example was found in architectural fill at the Huaca San Marcos in Lima in association with Pachacamac, Lima 9, and Nievería style ceramics; the context suggests that the khipu was manufactured before or during the second epoch of the Middle Horizon (Shady Solís et al. 2000). Ruales (2001, 371–72) reports the find of a khipu-like object, apparently without wrapped cords, in a Middle Horizon context at Cerro de Oro in the Cañete Valley. See Conklin 2011 for reflections on wrapping.

Ann Pollard Rowe

Tie-dyed Tunics

Figure 181 [134]. This tiedyed tunic is one of the few examples in original condition. Tunic with stepped blocks; camelid fiber; 86.5 x 122 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1941, 91.341.

Wari tunics with vivid tie-dyed colors have an immediate visual appeal.1 While these spectacular fabrics are common in collections, most are fragmentary and since compiling pieces from one or more originals into a new composition is easy (whether in ancient or modern times) their original format and composition have often been lost. The focus here is therefore primarily on the more intact examples, emphasizing those I have studied firsthand (chiefly in the Textile Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art) in order to clarify the original format and design principles to a greater extent than has previously been possible. An examination of the colors also provides new clues about the origin and diffusion of these striking textiles, and detailed consideration of archaeological associations highlights the textiles’ affiliation not just with Wari but, more precisely, with an important faction of men within the Wari hierarchy. Weaving and Construction The examples associated archaeologically with Wari’s presence are consistent in structure and pattern. They are fascinating because of their complex method of manufacture, which involved weaving, disassembly into individual parts, tie-dyeing the parts, and then re-assembly to produce color patterns with sharp edges not normally possible with tie-dyeing. The fabric was apparently woven in strips or small sections using undyed camelid-fiber (hair) yarns; each strip or section consisted of several pattern units attached to one another by temporary yarns that passed alternately through the loops of warp along the upper and lower edges of each pattern unit, creating a dovetailed join.2 The temporary yarns were withdrawn after weaving,

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which separated the many individual pattern units. The units were then tie-dyed3 with the fabric bunched and bound tightly with yarn in order to prevent the dye from penetrating the fibers under the bindings. Removing the bindings revealed a pattern (typically of hollow diamonds) in the original, lighter color of the fabric. The pattern units were then arranged in the final color alternation, and new yarns made of undyed camelid fiber were inserted along the horizontal edges (again dovetailed) to hold the pieces in their new arrangement. The vertical slits between color areas were sewn closed with overcast stitches in dyed camelid fiber yarn, and the strips of pattern units were sewn together in the same manner. The individual units are not always exactly the same size, so a larger unit was gathered slightly to be sewn to a smaller one. The technique lends itself to the manufacture of multiple garments at once, with each step conceivably done by a different person. In such a case, pattern units linked during weaving might not end up in the same tunic. The weaving method results in cloth in which both the warp and the weft are discontinuous, which simply means that no yarn runs continuously from top to bottom or from side to side. Although a warp that runs the full length of the loom is a major labor-saving device, some of the most prestigious Peruvian textiles have warp yarns that wind back and forth only within a single color area. The last 2.5 centimeters (1 inch) of each pattern unit in discontinuous-warp fabrics cannot be woven in the usual way but must be darned with a needle. Discontinuous weft yarns, turning at the edges of each color area, are also used in tapestry weaving, but tapestry is a denser, less flexible fabric.

Figure 182. The side seams of this tie-dyed tunic have been opened. Tunic with stepped blocks; camelid fiber; 187 x 114 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Textile Fund and Helen and Alice Colburn Fund, 1983.252. Photo: © 2012 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

The structure is plain weave that is usually warp-predominant. The yarns (Z-spun and 2-plied S) and weaving are not especially fine: warp counts range from 9 to 20 per cm (23 to 51 per in.) and weft counts from 7 to 12 per cm (18 to 31 per in.).4 The end selvedges have a fringe consisting of groups of warp loops (twisted Z), usually about 1 cm (3/8 in.) long. Color Use The overall color scheme in these discontinuous-warp-and-weft pieces is consistent—six color combinations routinely appear—and color pairing is also consistent (fig. 181). Thus, a unit with white diamonds tie-dyed on a red ground is paired with one having yellow diamonds on a green ground. In a second combination, white diamonds on a medium blue ground appear with white and red diamonds on a purple ground. The purple units were made by first binding and dyeing the fabric

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red (yielding the white diamonds) and then by additional binding and overdyeing (yielding the red diamonds).5 The third pairing consists of white diamonds on a darker blue ground and a unit that is red and yellow with largerscale patterning. Unfortunately, the dyes have not yet been analyzed, although the red is likely to have been cochineal, an insect dye still cultivated commercially in the Ayacucho area.6 Aesthetically the red-and-yellow pattern units break up the repeating small diamonds and add an explosive effect, a brilliant artistic touch. In a few examples, the diamonds are yellow and the ground is red, the normal result of binding a yellow fabric and dyeing it red,7 comparable to the green units. More commonly, however, the opposite effect occurs, with red diamonds on a yellow ground (figs. 181, 182). In these cases, it appears that the background was bound, not the diamonds, and indeed there is telltale leakage of red dye into the background in some examples. In other cases, the red diamonds are painted on (fig. 183),8 while in still others, they are absent (fig. 184), either not there to begin with or fugitive.9 In a few examples the pattern is so large that the distinction between ground and pattern is obscured (fig. 185). The idea of binding the ground areas was evidently so unusual that the technique was not obvious to some dyers, who attempted to achieve the correct overall effect by other techniques. Because the blue pattern units are often in poor condition, they have frequently been patched or replaced (fig. 185). Presumably the dye was indigo, which requires an alkaline bath that tends to dissolve protein fibers like camelid hair.10 Although it is possible to dye protein fibers with indigo (if the alkali is not too strong and the cloth is not dipped for too long), and there are south coast textiles of various periods with blue camelid-fiber yarns, they are not common in the rest of the coast or in other Wari textiles. Other Wari tie-dyed tunics evidently employed a different, fugitive blue dye.11 In the example shown (fig. 183), the original purple has changed to dark red (with lighter red and white diamonds), the blue units have become khaki, and green units have turned yellowish (with faint lighter yel-

low diamonds). The red-on-yellow diamonds are always painted in this group. The variations in both the red-and-yellow units and the blue units indicate that some examples were made by people who did not fully understand the original dyeing technology, which probably came from the south highlands where indigo dyeing on camelid fiber was common. Thus, the variations strongly suggest that the textiles were made in several different places, each with a different solution for handling the unfamiliar techniques.

Figure 183. Fugitive blue dye was used in this strip, said to be from Corralones in the Acarí Valley. Strip from a tunic; camelid fiber; 186 x 19 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Anonymous Gift, 1966.7.164.

Garment Type and Patterns The most complete of the discontinuous-warpand-weft tie-dyed fabrics appear to be men’s tunics, a suggestion corroborated by ceramics depicting men wearing such tunics. They are slightly wider than high, a different shape than Wari tapestry-woven tunics, which are roughly square. The most intact tie-dyed tunic in the sample measures 86.5 cm high by 122 cm wide (34 by 48 in.), which appears to be typical (fig. 181).12 Its side seams are overcast, like the other vertical seams, and there is no special finish on the neck slit or armholes. Although examples have sometimes been identified as mantles (large, rectangular shawl-like garments), no distinctive mantle format or size can be identified in the available sample. It is, however, a common and unfortunate modern practice to remove the side seams of tunics in order to allow the fabrics to be displayed flat. Some of these flat pieces are

Figure 184. Tunic with squares within squared meanders; camelid fiber; 90.17 x 114.3 cm. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, M75.50.1. Digital image: © 2012 Museum Associates/LACMA. Licensed by Art Resource, NY.

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slightly narrower than those with surviving side seams. It is conceivable that some of these narrower examples are mantles, but it seems more likely that they are tunics now missing columns of pattern units, or are simply within the range of tunic sizes. The different shapes of pattern units present different artistic options. Any other meaning they may have had in antiquity is unknown. Pairs of stepped blocks are the most common pattern (figs. 181, 182). The openedout example has the remains of side seams and the same number of rows (ten, counting both sides) and columns (six) as the seamed example, although it is slightly longer and narrower.13 A similar substantially complete piece (opened and with repairs in the neck area) is also known.14 The diagonal rows of small diamonds in each unit combine with those of neighboring units to form larger diamonds, and the colors repeat along diagonal axes. The color units typically rotate from one diagonal row to another, adding kaleidoscopic variety (fig. 181). In some examples, rotation of the color units occurs in the same diagonal, and some have additional tie-dyed horizontal lines, adding to the shimmering effect (fig. 182). The diagonals reverse direction at the shoulder of an eightrow example;15 a five-column piece is likely incomplete.16 Another standard design consists of square blocks within vertical meanders made of solid-color strips (fig. 184).17 The width of

Figure 185. One row may be missing from this tiedyed tunic, which is said to have been found near Palpa in the Nasca drainage. Tunic with squares; camelid fiber; 75 x 116.5 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, 91.308.

the garment accommodates three pairs of meanders that change color along the shoulder line. The small diamonds typically form an X in each block; placed side by side, these blocks coalesce into a larger diamond. Some of these pieces are still sewn up the sides, creating tunics of dimensions similar to those with stepped blocks. Several complete or nearly complete examples have been published.18 Other tunics feature simple, square blocks arranged in diagonal color repeats. One example is aberrant in having five and a half rows and twelve columns (fig. 185), for a total of eleven rows counting both sides of the tunic.19 An uneven number of rows is uncharacteristic of pre-Hispanic tunics and the length of this piece is also slightly short, suggesting that a row might have been removed. But it is unclear how this might have been done since the diagonal repeat is consistent except in one corner (not shown). The small diamonds form an X in each block, and it is obvious that the blue and purple blocks with diagonal rows of diamonds were taken from another tunic and added to replace the missing dark blue units, probably in modern times, since they are not dovetailed. Because some of these replacement blocks occur on the side seams and armholes,

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it appears that the present side seams and armhole fringe are part of the same repair. Armhole fringe is not usual in Middle Horizon tunics, and the colors here do not match those in the tie-dye. The repair is skilled, but it is possible to ascertain that the original tunic probably had six rows of blocks on each side and diagonal color repeats. The number of blocks in a column or row varies in other examples, with the size of each block adjusted to fit the general size of a tunic. An opened-out example with fugitive blue has twelve rows and six columns of squares patterned with diagonal rows of diamonds.20 A fragment with only one column remaining has ten rows and accordingly only one shade of (fugitive) blue (fig. 183).21 Another opened-out example has fourteen rows and ten columns of X-patterned rectangles and is slightly narrow.22 Its diagonal repeat changes direction in the center. The spectacular piece in Figure 186 has clearly been altered from a tunic into a mantle.23 The red bands, now on the outer edges, probably originally ran down the center, as shown in some ceramics (see fig. 110). This center band was cut in half up the middle and moved to the outside edges; the raw cut edges

Figure 186 [135]. Tunic with squares and solid strips, converted to a mantle in modern times; camelid fiber; 182 x 112.5 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1931, 91.90.

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Figure 187. Tunic fragment with opposed hooks; camelid fiber; 83.5 x 151 cm (as mounted). Private collection. Photo: Renée Comet Photography.

were overcast with a camelid-fiber yarn of uneven color (as if unraveled from cloth dyed after weaving) except in the center where the neck slit was originally located. The neck slit was made using discontinuous-weft yarns, so it has selvedge edges. Neither the cutting nor this type of overcasting is likely to be ancient. The vertical seams are sewn with dark blue camelid-fiber yarn, except for the new center seam, which uses tan cotton yarn, an obvious mismatch. The small diamonds make Xs in the rectangles. Interestingly, natural goldentan camelid fiber has been used instead of a yellow dye. A related more fragmentary piece has stepped blocks alternating with plain vertical strips, and one strip has part of a neck slit made with discontinuous weft yarns.24 Another tunic combines square blocks and stepped blocks, both with diagonal rows of small diamonds (see fig. 17).25 The pattern changes along the shoulder as well as along the center seam. Although the rotation of the stepped blocks is not completely regular and the rows of small diamonds do not consistently join to make larger ones, there is no sign of tampering (the dovetail joins appear intact) and the color repeat is consistent on the diagonal (except in one corner).

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I have not examined any intact tunics with hook patterns. One published example, opened out, with six columns and eight rows, has the same proportions as the tunics discussed above.26 The color repeat is regular with hooks of the same color rotating in the same diagonal, and the tie-dyed diamonds align in horizontal rows. In another example, hooks of each color are in the same orientation in each diagonal but rotate in adjacent diagonals (similar to fig. 181), though with some irregularities that might not be original.27 A portion of the original diagonal repeat, without rotation, is apparent in a fragmentary piece mounted with other colors substituted for damaged blue units (fig. 187).28 A few small fragments have hooks with diagonal rows of small diamonds.29 Only a few fragmentary examples have opposed L-shaped units with diagonal rows of small diamonds. One opened-out example (fig. 188), nicely mounted so that both the losses and the original format are obvious, has six columns, eight rows, and a diagonal color repeat similar to that in Figure 181.30 A half tunic features a column of rectangular blocks to either side of four columns of L-shaped pairs; the color repeat includes rotation in the

Figure 188. The blue units of this Ica Valley fragmentary tie-dyed tunic are almost entirely deteriorated. Fragmentary tunic with opposed L shapes; camelid fiber; 155 x 116 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 29101a–m. Figure 189. Detail of fragment with squares within S shapes; camelid fiber; W. 34 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, X86.3956.

same diagonal.31 Two-thirds of a tunic with fugitive blue and an end border of square blocks has embroidery on the neck slit and surviving armhole, presumably done by the original owner rather than the producer.32 Another pattern has squared S-shaped units with inset square blocks, all tie-dyed, with the small diamonds in horizontal rows. This pattern is represented only by three re­ assembled fragments with some diagonal color repeats (fig. 189).33 Figure 190. Fragment with stepped blocks and solidcolor hooks; camelid fiber; 68 x 164 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, 91.302.

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Other pieces combine tie-dyed and solidcolor pattern units, though none is complete or in its original form. The most intact example, although narrow and missing a fringed row at each end, combines sections of tie-dyed hooks and plain stepped blocks, each with four rows and four columns, in a checkerboard arrangement.34 Another fragmentary example combines tie-dyed stepped blocks and solid-color hooks (fig. 190).35 The longer-than-usual warploop fringe is uniform, confirming that the

Figure 191 [136]. Tunic said to be from Chilca on the central coast; camelid fiber; 87 x 124.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Gift of Leo Drimmer-Lichtemberg, 1965.40.43.

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stepped blocks and hooks are from the same original, but the vertical seams may be modern since they are sewn with an interlacing stitch rather than overcasting and the color repeat is irregular. Documented Find-spots and Dating Tie-dyed tunics are a coherent group technically and stylistically, and can be confidently described as Wari in style. Fragments have been found in all parts of the coast under Wari influence, and several are from sites of known Middle Horizon date. Radiocarbon dates of the textiles themselves also verify a Wari association. One example, from Acarí, is reported as 720–90036 and another yielded a date of

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671–862 (calibrated, 95.4 percent probability; see fig. 187).37 The following summary of find-spots, more comprehensive than previous attempts, is organized geographically from north to south. The greater number of finds from the south coast may be attributed primarily to more favorable preservation conditions. north coast.

The best association is from excavations at Huaca Cao in the Chicama Valley of an unusual burned burial that also contained a Wari tapestry-woven tunic fragment, on top of which was a secondary burial with ceramics of Middle Horizon Epoch 2B.38 Max Uhle also found several fragments at

Chimú Capac in the Supe Valley, a site dating to Epochs 2B and 3.39 Heiko Prümers made surface collections that included a tie-dyed fragment and a tapestry-woven imitation of a tie-dyed pattern at the Middle Horizon site of El Castillo in the Huarmey Valley.40 central coast. Uhle found two fragmentary tie-dyed tunics of the Wari style in his Pachacamac excavations. One was on the same mummy bundle as a Wari tapestry-woven tunic from his Cemetery III, which also included ceramics of Epoch 2B.41 He recorded no associations for the other piece.42 Uhle also found some coarse tie-dyed fragments of aberrant pattern at Pachacamac, plausibly suggested to be provincial Wari imitations of the standard style.43 From these fragments, Ina VanStan was able to reconstruct a tunic with rows of square blocks in a diagonal repeat, with plain strips at the center and on each side.44 A fragment of the usual kind was also found without specified associations at Huaca Malena in the Asia Valley, a site with a large Middle Horizon component.45 Fragments have also been reported from Chancay and Ancón.46 south coast. Heinrich Ubbelohde-Doering found fragments at Usaca and Copara, both on the Trancas River in the Nasca drainage.47 Giuseppe Orefici reports fragments from Quemado, a site on the road from the highlands to Nasca.48 Uhle also found a fragment in the Yauca Valley.49 Tiffiny Tung excavated fragments from a disturbed context at the provincial Wari site of Beringa in the Majes Valley.50 Others have been reported from the Ica valley, near Palpa in the Nasca drainage (fig. 185), Santa Cruz in the Nasca drainage, and in Acarí (fig. 183).51 A mummy exhibited in the Museo Regional de Ica wears a dovetailed-warp tie-dyed tunic and a headcloth embroidered in the south coast style of Middle Horizon 2. Confusion has, however, resulted from Hans Disselhoff’s find of such a tunic at the earlier Nasca 3 site of Cabezas Achatadas, near Camaná in the Majes Valley.52 Unfortunately he did not report the exact associations, making it impossible to assess this anomaly adequately, so it seems necessary to set it aside.

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Other Tie-dyed Tunics Wari tie-dyed tunics made with continuous warp and weft have not often survived. One is said to have been found with a striped Wari tunic and a four-cornered pile hat at Chilca, between the Mala and Lurín Valleys on the central coast (fig. 191).53 Although warp-faced and lacking fringe, it is similar in size and proportions to the discontinuous-warp-andweft tunics but made by sewing two large panels together with an interlacing stitch. Uhle found fragments of two other tie-dyed red camelid-fiber tunics in Middle Horizon contexts on the central coast, one at Nievería54 and the other at Pachacamac.55 The latter has a loom width of 43 cm (17 in.), which is narrow. The tie-dyed diamonds are larger than those on the discontinuous-warp-and-weft tunics. One must be cautious about supposing a Wari connection for plain tie-dyed tunics without similar context, since tie-dyeing on camelidfiber tunics occurred at other times on the south coast and south highlands, especially in the Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600). Not all discontinuous-warp-and-weft tie-dyed textiles are Wari either. Some differ in structure and design from those described above and they also vary among themselves. None has any archaeological association information. One group is made with rectangular pattern units that are usually sewn rather than dovetailed together (fig. 192).56 The tie-dyed diamonds form either an X or horizontal rows in each rectangle; there are no partial diamonds, nor any of different scale than the others. The ground colors are usually red, purple, and green or blue-green, not yellow. Most examples have been mounted as large rectangular panels, but one seemingly complete tunic with ten columns and ten rows measures 123 x 140 cm (48½ x 55 in.), larger than the Wari pieces.57 None has any fringe. Because this group has previously been considered a variation of the Wari tie-dyed style, we requested a radiocarbon analysis of one example (fig. 192). The resulting date was AD 414–575 (calibrated, 95.4 percent probability), which clearly pre-dates the Middle Horizon. Possibly these pieces are from far southern Peru where other large, predominantly camelid-fiber textiles have been found

Figure 192. Panel with sewn tie-dyed rectangles, probably from southern Peru; camelid fiber; 232.5 x 146.5 cm. Private collection. Photo: Maury Ford.

in recent years. Some are described as Nasca style, but they differ from those of the Nasca drainage; a more accurate description might be Southern Nasca style. It is tempting to suppose that these pieces represent an antecedent to Wari tie-dyed tunics, but more archaeological information would be helpful. If they are, then perhaps Wari tunics with X-patterned blocks are more conservative (earlier) than those with diagonal patterning. Ceramic Representations of Tie-dyed Tunics Some ceremonial ceramic fragments from Conchopata that date to Epoch 1 depict a man wearing a tunic with block patterns that might represent discontinuous warp and weft; each block contains a solid circle that could represent a tie-dyed pattern (see fig. 103). This figure, who may represent either an individual or a group (such as an ethnic group), is defined by his distinctive face paint and also wears a hat with a diamond-patterned lower border. He is among several others carrying a bow, arrows, and a shield, and kneeling on what ap-

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pears to be a boat made of totora, a kind of bulrush; the boat suggests a possible connection to Lake Titicaca, in the area of Tiwanaku influence to the south, where such boats remain in common use.58 This figure, with the same face paint, hat, and a tunic more obviously representing tie-dyed discontinuous warp and weft, is prominent among the faceneck jars in the Pacheco offering deposit of Epoch 1 (see figs. 135, 136), and is also represented on an impressive leather bag, probably dating to the same period (see fig. 18). Several scholars have identified him as a key figure in the formation and spread of the Wari religion.59 The association with the sacred seems to be underlined by the supernatural being depicted on the Pacheco cups, which appears to wear a similar tunic (see fig. 133). In Epoch 2 ceramics, this figure’s costume changes to a four-cornered hat and a tunic with vertical stripes. The patterned stripes may have either a tie-dyed hook design (see fig. 110), or the face-fret motif common in tapestry-woven tunics of the period (see fig. 146).60 The Wari affiliation of the tie-dyed tunics with hooks is verified by a ceramic fragment with this design from excavations at the Wari capital.61 Since the figure appears to be riding on a totora boat, we may look for related tie-dyed tunics in the art of Tiwanaku, especially since some Tiwanaku and Wari tapestry-woven tunics are very similar. Textile preservation is less common in the Tiwanaku area, but two tie-dyed fragments are known from just south of Arica in northern Chile.62 One, from the site Azapa-1, was associated with Cabuza style pottery, which dates it to the Middle Horizon. It has a discontinuous-warp-and-weft block design in red, blue, and a faded color, with diagonal rows of small tie-dyed diamonds but no larger or partial diamonds; the twisted fringe is similar to Wari examples.63 The second fragment, said to be from the Azapa Valley, appears identical to Wari examples, although it is inadvisable to conclude that identical tunics were made in both areas from a single nonscientific find.64 There is scholarly debate about whether the tunics with quartered format and large tie-dyed diamonds found at San Pedro de Atacama to the south

Figure 193. Wari tapestrywoven tunic fragment that imitates a tie-dyed design; camelid fiber and cotton; 41.5 x 57 cm. Museo Nacional de Antropología, Arqueología e Historia, Lima, T16142.

are of Tiwanaku affiliation or not.65 San Pedro de Atacama does seem to have a different cultural relationship to Tiwanaku than Arica. Other representations of important Wari figures sometimes wear tie-dyed tunics though usually without discontinuous-warpand-weft patterning. One person who can be identified in multiple versions during Epoch 2 wears a south-coast style headdress ornament and often also a tie-dyed tunic (see fig. 123).66 The remaining representations are more difficult to classify, however.67 One tapestry-woven tunic fragment is interesting because it combines a clear imitation of discontinuous-warp-and-weft tiedyeing with a motif that typically occurs in

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tapestry during Epoch 1 (fig. 193).68 Together with the ceramic representations mentioned above, it confirms that the discontinuouswarp-and-weft tie-dyed tunics originated in Epoch 1. The other archaeological associations suggest a continuation through Epoch 2. Most preserved Wari tie-dyed tunics, like tapestrywoven ones, probably date to Epoch 2B. This period was a relatively long one, from which many objects are preserved, and designs that had been rare and sacred earlier were now produced in multiples for important men in all regional areas. The large number of surviving tie-dyed garments and fragments attests to the enduring aesthetic impact of these textiles and to the importance of the men who wore them.

notes

I am very grateful to Susan E. Bergh for inviting me to participate in this exhibition catalogue. I also received invaluable assistance from Patricia Knobloch, Julie Jones and Christine Giuntini (Metropolitan Museum of Art), Lydia Fraser (Textile Museum library), Bridget Gazzo (Dumbarton Oaks library), Lucy Fowler-Williams (University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology), Mary Frame, Jeff Splitstoser, and the private collectors who provided access to their pieces and radiocarbon dates. 1. I prefer to describe the tie-dyed textiles as “Wari style” rather than “Wari” since Wari is also the name of an archaeological site. By conforming to the convention used in this catalogue, I do not mean to imply that these textiles were all made at the Wari site or by a single ethnic group. In fact, one of the points made here is that these textiles were produced in at least three different places. 2. The entire process was replicated by Rehl 2010, pl. 19a–e. 3. Rehl 2010, 213n92; Rehl 2001, 15n9. 4. These numbers are from Rehl 2003, 602–52, since she has counted more than I have. 5. The second dye could have been blue or an alkaline bath of cochineal (Rehl 2010, 167). 6. It is also interesting to note that in Salasaca, Ecuador, the mordanting process for cochineal, which helps prepare the fabric to accept the dye, includes plants that dye the cloth a strong yellow color (A. Rowe and Miller 2007, 270–71, 274). 7. Frame 1999, 336; Orefici 1993, pl. 35, top right; another reassembled fragment is at the Textile Museum (91.469) (Rehl 2010, fig. 60; Rehl 2003, cat. 111). 8. See also Haberland 1965. 9. Lempertz 2010, 111, lot 146 (fugitive). Additional examples of apparent absence are Anton (1992, no. 29), Lommel (1977, abb. 94), Reid (1986, pl. 40, fig. 58), and Strelow (1996, 69), as well as most of those with the same design as the tunic in Figure 184. 10. I am grateful to Christine Giuntini, textile conservator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, for this suggestion. For the chemistry of indigo, see Liles 1990, 54–55.

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11. Larsen et al. 1976, 49; Moraga 2005, 48–49; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001, fig. 7; Sinclaire Aguirre 1999, 19. 12. Previously published in Crawford 1946, frontispiece; Johnston and Kaufman 1967, 23; Reeves 1949, 104; Rehl 2010, fig. 58; Rehl 2003, cat. 106; A. Rowe 1977, 32, fig. 24. 13. Previously published in Cook 1996, 120; Frame 1999, 334; Rehl 2010, fig. 57; Rehl 2003, cat. 103; Rehl 2001, fig. 1; Stone-Miller 1992c, 99–101. I have not examined this piece; the seam information is from Rehl 2003, 622. 14. Lavalle and González García 1993, 217 (detail); Lavalle and González García 1989, 223 (detail); Rehl 2003, cat. 104; Tsunoyama 1979, 23; Tsunoyama 1977, 23. 15. Medina Castro and Gheller Doig 2005, 81. 16. Lempertz 2010, 111, lot 146. 17. Previously published in Rehl 2010, fig. 55, and Rehl 2003, cat. 98. 18. Azoy 1985, 31; EstebanJohansson 2002, 226, fig. 3; Frame 1999, 336; Moraga 2005, 52–53; Nakajima [1969], 24–25. The PittRivers Museum in Oxford also has a half tunic of this pattern (1934.70.40). 19. Previously published in Rehl 2010, fig. 49; Rehl 2003, cat. 85. 20. Brugnoli and Hoces de la Guardia Chellew 1989, 34–35; Hoces de la Guardia Chellew et al. 2006, 17; Sinclaire Aguirre 1999, 19. 21. Previously published in Rehl 2003, cat. 87. 22. Stuhr 2008, 166. 23. Previously published in King 1965, pl. 30; Rehl 2010, fig. 50; Rehl 2003, cat. 88. 24. Lommel 1977, 157, cat. 722; Rehl 2010, fig. 51; Rehl 2006, 17; Rehl 2003, cat. 89. Another fragmentary example now has square blocks flanked by solid-color strips (Anton 1992, no. 30). Both pieces have irregular color repeats that probably indicate modern tampering. The Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe has a folded and sewn tunic with dark blue solid strips of different widths separating three hook-patterned strips (Rehl 2010, pl. 47, fig. 56; Rehl 2003, cat. 99). Asymmetrical arrangement of strips is not a Wari stylistic feature, and the width is on the narrow side (100.5 cm [39½ in.]). Since I have not examined the piece, I hesitate to make any further comment.

25. Previously published in Lavalle and González García 1993, 215 (detail); Lavalle and González García 1989, 221 (detail); Rehl 2003, cat. 109. 26. Reid 1986, pl. 40. The published dimensions are too large (124 x 76 in.) and may be erroneous. 27. Benavides Calle 1999, 389; Lavalle and González García 1993, 219; Lavalle and González García 1989, 225. The odd number of rows (nine) and columns (seven) may also not be original. 28. Previously published in Frame 1999, 337, pl. 23. I have examined the piece and noted that some joins were not original, but did not have the opportunity to map them in detail. 29. Rehl 2003, cats. 101, 102. 30. Previously published in Eisleb and Strelow 1966, 295; Rehl 2003, cat. 96; Strelow 1996, 69, 156. An example not in its original form is in the Peabody Museum, Harvard (Rehl 2003, cat. 94). 31. Anton 1992, no. 29 (color). See also Doering 1936, pl. 58.; Lommel 1977, abb. 94; Rehl 2010, fig. 54; Rehl 2003, cat. 92. 32. Larsen et al. 1976, 49 (color). See also Rehl 2010, fig. 54; Rehl 2003, cat. 99; Stone-Miller 1992a, 337; Tidball 1969, 30. 33. Previously published in Rehl 2010, fig. 62; Rehl 2003, cat. 125. Another fragment is now part of a modern composition (Kajitani 1982, 66–67). Rehl considers that the two fragments may be from the same original, which also appears possible to me. The Liverpool Museum also has a small fragment (Feltham 1989, 12). 34. Schildkraut 1996, 6–7; Shiga 2004, no. 79. The piece now has eight columns and fourteen rows, and is 167.5 x 104 cm (66 x 41 in.). Susan Bergh, who has seen the piece, also reports that the seaming yarn does not quite match the woven blocks in color and that there is a four-block-long gap in the center seam where a neck slit might be (personal communication, August 2011). 35. Previously published in Kelemen 1943, pl. 175; Rehl 2010, fig. 53; Rehl 2003, cat. 92. A reassembled fragment with an area of solid-color blocks and of tie-dyed blocks is in the National Museum of the American Indian, Washington, DC (23/9071).

36. Esteban-Johansson 2002, 223. 37. Courtesy of the Historic Textile Research Foundation. 38. Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2005, 123, fig. 10; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001, fig. 30. 39. Rehl 2003, cats. 120–22, 126; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001, fig. 7; Rowe 1977, 33n14. 40. Prümers 2001, figs. 21–22. 41. Uhle [1903] 1991, 32, fig. 31, for the textiles and 27, figs. 17, 20, for ceramics. I am grateful to Patricia Knobloch for her help in identifying some of these ceramics. One small bottle was possibly Middle Horizon Epoch 3–4. Uhle unfortunately did not record any specific grave associations from Cemetery III except for the two textiles mentioned. 42. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology (29779). Fragments of another example said to be from Pachacamac are in Berlin (Eisleb and Strelow 1966, 300–06; Rehl 2003, cat. 114; Strelow 1996, 71–72). 43. Rehl 2010, pl. 49; Rehl 2003, 650–51, cat. 134; Strelow 1996, 70; VanStan 1963; VanStan 1961, 36. 44. VanStan 1963, 167, fig. 1; VanStan 1961, 36. 45. VanStan 1966, fig. 52. 46. Haberland 1965. 47. For Usaca, see Doering 1936, pl. 58, and other references in note 31; for Copara, see Rehl 2010, fig. 63; Rehl 2003, cats. 129–30. 48. Orefici 1993, 125, fig. 35. 49. Phoebe A. Hearst Museum of Anthropology, Berkeley (4-8093c). 50. Tung 2007, 283; Tung and Owen 2006, 445. 51. For Ica, see Strelow 1996, 69; for Santa Cruz, see Tsunoyama 1979, 202; for Acarí, see also EstebanJohansson 2002, 226. 52. Biermann 2006, 229; Sawyer 1997, 152–54. Disselhoff did not publish an illustration of the piece but shared a slide with Alan Sawyer and probably others. 53. Previously published in A. Rowe 1986b, 161, 182. 54. O’Neale and Kroeber 1930, pl. 27a. 55. VanStan 1967, 28, figs. 20a, 21; VanStan 1961, 35, upper left. 56. Rehl (2010, fig. 48; 2003, cat. 82) says that the example in the Art Institute of Chicago is dovetailed. She reports the Museum of

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International Folk Art example as sewn (2010, fig. 47; 2003, cat. 79). An example at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is sewn (Rehl 2003, cat. 83). I have seen the latter as well as the example illustrated here. Jiménez Díaz (2009, 134–36) reports the examples in the Museo de América as sewn. 57. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York (1980.564.3) (Rehl 2003, cat. 83). 58. The spelling “Tiwanaku” is used here in place of the older spelling “Tiahuanaco” only in order to conform to the style of the volume. Since the new spelling reflects modern pronunciation, it seems reasonable in referring to the modern village, but I do not agree that it is appropriate for the ancient site. For example, “Tia” is the attested pronunciation in early Spanish historical records (Cieza de León [1553] 1984, chap. 104–5, pp. 281–85). 59. Cook 1996, 87, who calls him “Figure A”; Knobloch 2010, 202–3, who calls him “Agent 100.” 60. Other ceramics of Epoch 2 have what may be an abbreviated representation of this person, with a tie-dyed tunic: see Lapiner 1976, fig. 557; Schmidt 1929, abb. 267; Watanabe 2002, fig. 4. 61. Bennett 1953, pl. 6G. 62. I am grateful to Calogero Santoro and Liliana Ulloa for providing me with further information and photographs of these pieces. 63. Santoro and Ulloa 1985, 77; Ulloa 2001. The size of this fragment is 43 x 80 cm (17 x 31½ in.). 64. Sinclaire Aguirre 1999, 39; Ulloa 1985, 83, no. 250. 65. Cases and Agüero 2004, 123–25; Rodman and Fernández Lopez 2001, fig. 10. 66. See also Knobloch 2010, fig. 14; Menzel 1968, fig. 47; Schindler 2000, 147. Identified by Knobloch as “Agent 104”; Knobloch 2011 describes her identifications in more detail. 67. From Pacheco in Epoch 1, without face paint or other regalia, see Menzel 1977, fig. 128. From Epoch 2, with face paint and headgear, see for example Disselhoff 1967, pl. 35; Knobloch 2010, 203–4; Menzel 1968, fig. 48; Seville 2001, 405. 68. Ubbelohde-Doering (1966, 172– 75) found a mummy with a tunic of this tapestry design in a grave with Epoch 1 ceramics.

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Heidi King

Featherwork

Figure 194 [137]. Fourcornered hat; feathers, cotton, and reed; 17 x 14 x 14 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, A. Augustus Healy Fund, 41.228.

Textiles covered with brilliant feathers of rain forest birds count among the most striking works created by textile artists in Pre-Columbian Peru. In the 1530s, the luxurious texture and lustrous iridescence of native feathered cloth filled the Spanish conquistadores with such awe and admiration that one Spanish missionary wrote: “The gloss, splendor, and sheen of this feather cloth was of such exceptional beauty that it must be seen to be appreciated.”1 From as early as the late third millennium BC, Peruvian cultures used feathers in ritual contexts as well as for elite clothing and finery. Grand headdresses, elegant garments, exquisite pectorals, and ear ornaments densely decorated with a mosaic of delicate feathers bespeak the extraordinary skill and manual dexterity of ancient Peruvian featherworkers. They used different techniques to create the colorful mosaic. Smaller objects such as headgear (fig. 194) and various types of ornaments (fig. 195) were decorated by gluing tiny trimmed feathers to the foundation.2 Larger objects such as tabards (tunic-like garments without side seams) (fig. 196) and panels (fig. 197) were made by sewing strings of feathers— the feathers having been knotted individually onto the strings in a separate process—to plain weave cotton cloth in overlapping horizontal rows starting from the bottom. Regrettably few of the featherworks that survive were scientifically excavated, yet many without provenance are called “Wari” or “Nasca/Wari”; most of these attributions are, however, unconfirmed or have proved incorrect. Based on their characteristic iconography or scientific dating, only a small group can be safely attributed to the Wari; among them are an impressive large tabard with borders boldly

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patterned with hook motifs in alternating red and blue feathers surrounding a field of bright yellow (the hook motif is also known from woven textiles of the period); hats with a flat square top; and diamond-shaped ornaments. The distinctive square Wari hats with upright peaks projecting from the corners are usually made in a knotting technique with brightly dyed yarns (see fig. 147). The unusual hat illustrated here (fig. 194), its corner peaks now missing, is constructed of a cane framework covered with cotton cloth and feather mosaic.3 The top and four sides are divided into quarters filled with geometric patterns—stepped triangles and diamonds—and profile heads, perhaps inspired by felines, with lozengeshaped eyes and tear bands, bared teeth, and ornaments on their heads. The diamondshaped ornaments (fig. 195), originally joined with threads, feature monkey-like faces with split eyes and huge “smiling” mouths; their original function is unknown, but the fine mosaic of layered cut feathers in five colors suggests use on a high-status or important votive object.4 Large, spectacular panels decorated with the feathers of blue-and-yellow macaws (fig. 197) are also among the featherworks of secure Wari affiliation. These panels were found inside several monumental faceneck ceramic jars that had been buried together in the Churunga Valley on Peru’s far south coast. Although local people rather than professional archaeologists found this offering, the circumstances of recovery were reported in several Peruvian publications.5 In the past, three of those publications do not seem to have been considered in their entirety, but they provide important insights into the potential function of the site and the purpose of the offering.6

Figure 195 [138]. Ornaments; feathers and cotton; 8 x 6.5 cm (each). The Princeton University Art Museum, Anonymous gift 1996, 1996-228.1, 1996-228.2, 1996-228.4, 1996-228.5.

In contrast to the English-language literature, which describes the offering simply as a ceremonial deposit or cache,7 the Peruvian authors consistently say that mummy bundles were also found at the site. Thus the offering may have commemorated either an elite Wari burial, not many of which have been documented, or an important human sacrifice. In the Peruvian reports, the panels are described incorrectly as mantles (shawl-like shoulder garments); instead, the format, size, and ties at the upper corners indicate that the panels likely served as hangings, perhaps to decorate the walls of large compounds. The first account of the find, published in February 1943 in La Crónica, a Lima newspaper, was based on interviews with Dr. Luis Valcárcel, then director of Peru’s national museum of archaeology, and Ernesto Tejada, deputy prefect of the Condesuyos Province, where the panels were unearthed.8 The report states, “Last month a pre-Columbian burial mound was accidentally discovered containing various artifacts, ceramics and garments and among other interesting objects forty mantles covered with Amazonian bird feathers (probably of macaws and humming birds); the mantles are of the most accomplished manufacture and have decorative motifs in a perfect and austere style.” The article goes on to say that the discovery was made by workers making adobe bricks in the hamlet of La Victoria about 120 kilometers (75 miles) from the town of Chuquibamba on Peru’s southern Pacific coast. They came upon a large, ancient ceramic jar, which led to the discovery of a total of “seven vessels, each one meter [about 3 feet] tall and two meters [6.5 ft.] in

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circumference which contained forty rolled up feathered mantles which represent an accomplished sample of feather arts made by the Tiwanaku cultures.” (One of the vessels is illustrated here in Figure 198; the cultural attribution was based on the artistic style of the jars, then incorrectly thought to be Tiwanaku rather than Wari.) The burial mound consisted of rough fieldstones and was surrounded by two concentric circles, the larger measuring 52 m (170 ft.) in diameter. Very importantly, “mummies in typical fetal position were also found; they were immediately burnt by the locals who—filled with cosmic terror—sought to protect themselves from the wrath of their ancestors.” Tejada “seized the excavated objects in the name of the state,” but the local excavators had already sold many of them. All confiscated objects were taken to Lima except three panels, which were given to local institutions in the Arequipa area. The second report of the discovery, written by Leonidas Bernedo Málaga, was published in 1950 in the newspaper El Deber in Are­qui­ pa.9 This more detailed account reports that on 12 January 1943 on the Hacienda Hispana in the Churunga Valley, the native Plácido Coa discovered a “pre-Columbian tomb which had three walls built of stone and clay in concentric circles; the first wall measured one meter above ground, the other two were subterranean.” In this version, the excavations are said to have uncovered eight faceneck jars, each containing twelve feathered mantles, between the two outer walls; the mantles “are made of the finest cotton cloth with a border of vicuña wool and covered with blue and yellow, and sometimes red feathers.”10 In the second circle,

Figure 196 [142]. Tabard; feathers and cotton; 143.5 x 132 cm. Private collection. Photo: Maury Ford.

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Figure 197 [139]. Panel, probably a hanging, from Corral Redondo; feathers, cotton, and camelid fiber; 63.5 x 208.9 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979, 1979.206.471. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY

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211 F eatherwork

Figure 198 [45]. Faceneck vessel with mythical creatures, from Corral Redondo; ceramic and slip; 83.5 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia, Lima, C-64874. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

a number of objects in unmistakable Inca style were found: “three small silver jars, one small gold llama, two silver figurines, three decorated wooden cups, three silver tupus [clothes pins], a small mantle of alpaca wool with 42 silver plaques, a small poncho in different colors, one aryballoid bottle and ceramic plates.” The third, innermost circle was not excavated. The article continues that the “feather mantles taken from the ceramic vessels num-

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bered 97 [sic] and were immediately divided among the more than 60 persons who had participated in the excavations during the night.” These “textiles of rare beauty” were taken to nearby mining centers and villages “to be sold for ridiculous [very low] prices.” Several days later, Jesús Rojas, son of the hacienda’s owner, took one of the panels to Chuquibamba, and on 26 January this “rare and most beautiful archaeological garment” was exhibited in the

office of the province’s notary. The deputy prefect of the province ordered all items excavated from the hacienda (now in the hands of numerous people) be returned. The authorities succeeded in ferreting out “almost all the Inca-style objects, but of the 96 Tiwanaku [Wari] mantles they only found 44, which they brought to Chuquibamba.” By order of the government ministry, “the entire treasure found on the Hacienda Hispana” was taken to Lima’s national museum. In 1990 the renowned archaeologist Eloy Linares Málaga published the first of two volumes dedicated to significant archaeological discoveries in the department of Arequipa since 1851. While much of his information about the find is based on Bernedo Málaga’s previous accounts,11 Linares Málaga added important facts collected during visits to the site in 1964 and 1981—including a plan of the site of Corral Redondo (fig. 199)—in interviews with people present when the find was Figure 199. Plan of Corral Redondo, the archaeological monument in the Churunga Valley, Department of Arequipa, January 1981. After Linares Málaga 1990, 120.

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made. He writes that, according to Plácido Coa’s niece, the find was “not so accidental” and that her uncle talked about it as early as 1941. She explained that wheat and barley were grown at “Corral Redondo” (redondo means “round,” a reference to the circular walls at the site); when pounders were hitting the ground to separate the grain, a dull, hollow sound could be heard and people suspected they had found a “treasure.” One day in December 1942, a pounder penetrated a hollow and “when Plácido pulled it out, a piece of cloth with feathers came with it; this was the signal to prepare for the excavation of the treasure; it was on January 12, 1943 that the culmination of the excavation occurred.” The whole village participated and the find was distributed among the people. Linares Málaga describes the context as follows: “As they excavated, they found three concentric circles consisting of walls built of rough stones set in mud mortar and covered

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Churunga Valley

Figure 200. Five ceramic vessels in the Robles Mojo style shown in situ at the Churunga cemetery, Department of Arequipa. The photo probably captures a staged reconstruction of the find, February 1943.

with stucco; in the center was the funerary bundle on a base of carved stone and encircled by the eight jars, finely decorated, and in each were 12 mantles, 96 in total.” One ceramic jar and one panel were exhibited in Arequipa in 1943, causing a sensation, especially among intellectuals, students, and artists “who were very much aware of the archaeological value of these objects.” An official petition for the return of objects from Lima to Arequipa was unsuccessful; only four of the feathered panels remained in the Department of Arequipa. Aside from the three mentioned above, one was rescued from the attic of a school and placed in a local institution. Linares Málaga attributes the panels to Wari, based on the Robles Moqo style of the vessels in which they were found. In 1988, Linares Málaga visited Lima’s national anthropology museum, where he saw photographs taken of the “pre-Columbian cemetery of Churunga,” which show five of the faceneck jars placed in holes in the ground (fig. 200; the photo has the appearance of a staged reconstruction).12 Before his visit Linares Málaga had been told only nineteen feathered mantles were housed in the museum, but thirty-two were located during his visit. He photographed three of the jars and two storeroom trays with panels.13 Although conservation issues prevented him from examining the mantles, he published a basic

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catalogue of all of them, based on museum records.14 In the last paragraph of his account he states that “thirteen mantles were lost during transit from Arequipa to Lima; since four are in Arequipa, nine still are missing.” These three Peruvian accounts of the panels’ discovery shed new light on what the original purpose of the panels might have been. The fact that one states they were found in “a pre-Columbian tomb” and two mention that mummies were found at the site strongly supports the suggestion that the Wari vessels and panels were offerings that accompanied either a very important deceased individual or a human sacrifice made to appease cosmic forces. The former may be supported by the fact that the jars containing the panels had not been deliberately broken, a pattern documented in other important Wari votive offerings (see pp. 145–57, “Shattered Ceramics and Offerings”). The Inca-style objects, however, recall the sumptuous offerings found in burials made in conjunction with the capacocha ceremony,15 which involved human sacrifice. Although destruction of the mummies at the time of the find make it impossible to confirm whether they were sacrifices or elite burials, it seems clear that Corral Redondo was a huaca (sacred site) that both Wari and Inca peoples commemorated by performing ceremonies and burying precious offerings.

notes

1. Cobo [1653] 1990, 226. 2. For a detailed discussion of ancient Peruvian featherworking techniques, see Greene 1991; Giuntini 2006, 1–13. For general information on featherwork in ancient Peruvian cultures, see King et al. 2012. 3. Only two other examples are known at this time; see Baessler 1902–3, pl. 147; Brinkerhoff 2000, cat. no. 37. 4. A group of similar objects is in the collection of the Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde in Munich. 5. I would like to thank Matthew Robb of the Saint Louis Art Museum for sharing copies of the La Crónica and El Deber articles with me and Ryan Williams of the Field Museum for bringing the Linares Málaga article to my attention. I also thank my colleague Patricia Llosa at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Lucy Salazar of Yale University for their generous help with the often obscure wording of the Spanish texts. 6. I hope to publish a more detailed discussion of the Peruvian accounts of the find in Ñawpa Pacha in the near future. 7. Bird 1958, no. 3; Menzel 1964, n196. 8. La Crónica 1943; translated by the author, with help from Llosa and Salazar. 9. Bernedo Málaga 1950; translated by the author, with help from Llosa and Salazar. 10. Only two panels with blue and orange/red feathers are currently known; one is in the collection of the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú in Lima and one in the Textile Museum

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in Washington, DC. Two panels, one in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, and one in the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, are covered only with yellow feathers. 11. Bernedo Málaga also published articles on the find in 1952 (“El Arte Plumario entre los antiguos Peruanos,” Revista Universitaria [Arequipa] 36, Año XXIV, Segundo Semestre) and 1962 (“El Arte Plumario entre los Antiguos Peruanos: reliquias de este arte descubiertas en el Dpto. De Arequipa,” Kontisuyo [Arequipa], no. 1). 12. Some of the ceramic jars from Corral Redondo were exhibited in the Museo de la Nación in Lima, probably between 1996 and 2002; on the text label in one of the cases were two black-and-white photographs of the site including the one Linares reproduces (Linares Málaga 1990, 137). The other image is shown here. Both photographs look staged. Unfortunately, it was not possible to find out when and by whom the photographs were taken. 13. See Linares Málaga 1990 for color illustrations of two jars (p. 143) and one of the trays (back cover and fig. 3) and Linares Málaga 1993 for the third jar and second tray (p. 333). 14. Linares Málaga (1990, 152) suggests that the last one on his list is not part of the Churunga find because it is significantly smaller, sewn together from several fragments with modern yarn, and has a different design executed in several colors. 15. For information on this important Inca ritual see Reinhard and Ceruti 2010.

Susan E. Bergh

Inlaid and Metal Ornaments

Figure 201 [71]. Pair of ear ornament frontals with skulls; shell and stone; 5.9 x 5.9 cm each. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 41595a,b. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

Among the theatrical arts of regalia, the Wari seem to have placed greatest emphasis on fine textiles, especially tapestry-woven tunics, which survive in comparatively large numbers. Less common are personal trappings made of precious materials—necklaces and ear ornaments, among them—that touted the status of royals and lesser elites both in life and as burial goods. This picture may be skewed somewhat because the media from which many Wari ornaments are made did not survive well in the rainy highlands; indeed, where find-spots of such materials are known or reported, they are almost always coastal. Nevertheless, the numbers of extant ornaments are few enough to suggest restricted use and de-emphasis, particularly in comparison to the Moche and Chimú, north coast cultures that temporally bracketed Wari. The most artistically ornate of Wari personal ornaments are fashioned of noble metals, both gold and silver, and also intricate brightly colored mosaics inlaid with a resinous, sometimes red-tinged adhesive on a variety of materials, including wood.1 Among the inlay materials are shell, such as purple and red-orange Spondylus, purple mussel, and iridescent mother-of-pearl; a range of blue and green stones including lapis lazuli, serpentine, and turquoise or its mineral look-alike, chrysacolla; and metals such as gold, silver, and pyrite (“fool’s gold”). Aesthetically, these exquisite inlaid ornaments share much with tapestry-woven, tied-dyed, or feathered cloth, which are also based on colorful mosaics. Like the tapestries, the ornaments’ iconography is often devoted to the all-important staff deity and its companions, from which elites seem to have derived aspects of their authority.

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Inlaid Ear Ornaments From at least the first millennium BC, ear ornaments made of precious materials were a mark of distinction in the Andes; among the Inca their sizes and materials correlated with social rank.2 Although the Wari seem not to have placed emphasis on ear ornaments—and in this may have followed the earlier Nasca, among whom such ornaments had limited importance as status indicators3—elaborate Wari examples exist and apparently both men and women were privileged to wear them. Although most lack archaeological context, a few pairs with finely inlaid circular frontals have been found in tombs of both sexes at Ancón, a site on the central coast.4 Interestingly, one of these tombs is said to have belonged to a young girl, her mummy bundle decorated with other valued materials in addition to the ear spools (of the same general type as those in figs. 201, 202).5 The Wari seem to have confined the use of ear ornaments to the realm of human pageantry; in artistic depictions, supernatural beings wear them only rarely. Wari artists created two main types of inlaid ear ornaments. In the first group, each was made from a single piece of lightweight wood, and the carved frontals assume the shape of small, appealing human heads of unknown identity (fig. 203). While the facial features are generic, the headdresses fall into at least two categories distinguished by the ornamentation of the band-like base and the crest that rises from it. Shell tesserae impart a life-like appearance to the eyes and are also sometimes inset in the cheeks. The U-shaped flange surrounding the face, its original shell surface occasionally still present, may represent a collar or the headdress’s chin strap. In

Figure 202. Pair of ear ornament frontals with animal heads; shell, stone, silver, and copper; Diam. 6.5 cm. The Art Institute of Chicago, 1955.2543a,b.

a few the shafts bear tiny nail holes, implying that they once were sheathed; if the remains of a silver nail in one are any indication,6 the sheathing material was thin metal sheet, either silver or gold, which also may have been attached with resinous adhesive to the frontals in some cases.7 The second and most sumptuous type of Wari ear ornament features complex inlays covering the surface of rimmed, disk-shaped frontals made of shell, some with an irides-

Figure 203 [69]. Ear ornament, from Pachacamac; wood and shell; 3.8 x 6 x 2.4 cm. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, Max Uhle, William Pepper Peruvian Expedition, Funded by Phoebe A. Hearst, 26720. Image: courtesy the Penn Museum.

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cent, nacreous surface (figs. 201, 202, 204). The shafts often do not survive but, where they do, they are fashioned of bone or wood and fastened to the frontals with either ancient adhesive, thin cords threaded through holes in both frontal and shaft, or both; small nail holes again sometimes pierce the wood examples, implying sheathing. A favored inlaid design comprises four repeats of a charmingly rendered profile animal head with a button nose and, usually, a vertically divided eye that marks the creature as supranormal in some way. Although this head is sometimes identified as feline, it may well represent another native beast, such as one of the Andean camelids (fig. 202). If a camelid, then the alternation of the head with that of a bird in some examples recalls the bird and camelid (or deer) tunics that may have functioned as a pair and were worn by Wari’s most distinguished elites, perhaps its paramount rulers (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”).8 Additional representatives of this type feature other symbols of authority: elaborate profile heads that likely represent either sacrificers or the staff deity’s winged attendants, skulls (fig. 201), the flowers of Anadenanthera colubrina (a hallucinogenic plant that Wari

elites seem to have used for religious purposes), and a motif that may represent a truncated staff of authority.9 Finally, still special in spite of some loss of its fragile inlay, is an ornament that survives without its mate and depicts a single, full-figured version of one of the staff deity’s winged attendants (fig. 204). Bent on one knee with head looking skyward and a four-feathered wing at its back, it clutches the ghost of a staff; the shaft curves to conform to the frontal’s edge and the lower terminus is formed by a human head.10 Mirrors In Mesoamerica, mirrors were used as costume ornaments, as cosmetic accessories, and for divination; they also had complex symbolic references.11 The uses and meanings of ancient Andean mirrors—their reflective surfaces made of either a single piece or a mosaic of obsidian (volcanic glass), anthracite (a lustrous coal), pyrite, or metal—are less well known although many are pierced and could have been worn in a manner akin to Mesoamerican practice.12 That they at least sometimes functioned in Wari times as insignia of high status is suggested by one, made of pyrite inlays set into a rectangular stone frame, Figure 204 [70]. Ear ornament frontal with staffbearing creature in profile; shell and stone; 5.9 x 5.8 x 1 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 41596. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

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excavated from an elite mausoleum containing Wari ceramics at Cerro Amaru in the northern highlands.13 The luxuriousness and imagery of a few other Wari examples also establish elite usage: the reflective materials are set within a shallow recess on one side of a slightly trapezoidal, handled wood frame, its reverse decorated with the inlaid head of the staff deity or a sacrificer carved in relief (figs. 205, 206). Although their form resembles modern hand-held mirrors,14 these Wari examples were likely not used as looking glasses. Rather, as archaeologist Anita Cook observes,15 their shape is reminiscent of snuff trays, also often trapezoidal and ornamented with carved, inlaid images of the staff deity or sacrificer. Such trays are better known in Tiwanaku’s sphere to the south, where they were used in conjunction with religious practices that involved inhaling the powder of psychotropic plants of the Anadenanthera genus.16 As mentioned, the Wari seem to have used the same plant, although to date few snuff trays have been discovered in Wari territory. One important, large exception, which has a handled shape like that of the mirrors, was found at El Castillo, a funerary structure on the north coast that contained objects in both

Figures 205a, 205b [73]. Mirror with staff deity head (detail of handle below); wood, stone, and shell; 23.9 x 12 x 2 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.432. Image: © Dumbarton Oaks, Pre-Columbian Collection, Washington, DC.

Wari and hybrid Moche-Wari styles (fig. 207).17 The report that one Wari mosaic mirror (fig. 205) was associated with a small copper spoon perhaps like those used during snuff rites may strengthen the connection to such practices.18 Tiwanaku snuff spoons have handles that, like those of the mirrors, terminate in an elegantly rendered animal head,19 as do a few larger Wari spoons of unknown function found in a woman’s tomb at San José de Moro on the north coast (fig. 208).20 Wari mirrors, then, perhaps take inspiration from snuff equipment used by the Tiwanaku, with whom the Wari shared religious customs involving the staff deity and visionary revelation facilitated by Anadenanthera. In

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other words, these rare mirrors may be prestigious reinterpretations of exotic paraphernalia related to elite Wari ritual.21 In contrast to the smaller Tiwanaku trays, the recessed well of the mirrors is not reserved for mixing snuff with spoons prior to inhaling it through tubes. Rather, it is inlaid with shiny, reflective material that—by analogy to the snuff it replaces, by the enhanced powers of vision to which it refers, and by association with numinous imagery—likely relates to an ancient quest for spiritual illumination and insight. The mosaic mirror illustrated above, its surface entirely encrusted with shell and stone tesserae, features an abbreviated version of the staff deity’s head with four geometri-

Figures 206a, 206b [166]. Mirror with sacrificer (front and back); wood and pigment; 28.6 x 15.9 x 1.9 cm. Private collection. Photo: Bruce Schwarz. Figure 207. Drawing of fragment of a wood snuff tray with a handle, from El Castillo in the Huarmey Valley. After Prümers 2001, fig. 25 (1).

5 cm

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Figure 208 [20]. Spoon, from San José de Moro (tomb M-U1512); ceramic; 9.8 x 3.5 x 1.8 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1512-C16. Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar.

cized appendages that are tipped with frontal faces and disposed symmetrically around the central visage. During burial, the mirror was in contact with a textile that left its impression on the surface; areas where the impression is discontinuous likely correspond to replacements of the original mosaic. Another mirror with traces of red pigment on its surface (fig. 206) features a snarling figure that appears to be a sacrificer: although it lacks a weapon, its posture (two arms extended from a frontal torso) is typical of sacrificers, and its zigzagging staffs are tipped by subjugated humans, one with a skeletonized chest. Four human heads peer over the upper rim and a register of animal and bird heads in profile Figure 209. Spondylus princeps (thorny oyster) shell. Photo: Gary Kirchenbauer.

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surround the now-empty recess for the mirror. A feline (or perhaps feline-serpent) head occurs on the handle of each mirror.22 Inlaid Tunic-wearing Figures Wari inlaid objects also include exquisite human figurines that are either freestanding or attached to one-half of a bivalve shell, usually Spondylus princeps (fig. 209), a red-orange oyster encrusted with thorny spines that here have been removed, but also others (figs. 210, 211; see also fig. 143).23 The figures on these objects—some pierced, perhaps for suspension as necklace pendants—wear knee-length garments that probably represent tapestry-woven tunics, given the vertical bands that alternate

Figure 210. Pendant with figure; Spondylus shell, shell, silver, and copper; 14.2 x 9.5 cm. The Art Institute of Chicago, Buckingham Fund, 1955.2542.

between plain and patterned (see fig. 144); tiny dots sometimes occur in the plain bands. The tunics, headdresses, lunate collars often made of metal, and huge ear ornaments signal that these are elite males. (The ear ornaments are surely simplified representations of the circular, inlaid variety.) The tunics’ decoration features a schematic profile head reminiscent of the button-nosed creature on many ear ornaments although details—the nose, mouth, and often the eye—are omitted, perhaps for reasons of scale (fig. 202). The extreme schematization makes correlating the imagery of the inlaid garments to that of actual tunics guesswork; among the candidates are tunics with the face-fret motif, winged attendants, or sacrificers, all reduced to heads alone (see figs. 144, 153, 157). It may be coincidence that

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in some instances the inlaid head visually recomposes as a standing animal in profile whose long neck and bulging chest recall an unshorn camelid (fig. 211). Although these small figurines cannot yet be identified, the Spondylus upon which some of them perch provides clues about their broad associations, based in part on Spanish records concerning the shell’s use among the Inca. These records agree that Spondylus—imported from Ecuador, where it flourishes in coastal waters that are warmer than Peru’s—held a value greater than gold or precious stones and, therefore, that the shell was a form of wealth, a badge of prestige, and a basis of power, especially for those who controlled its trade and distribution networks.24 The figures-on-a-shell support the suggestion that Wari elites, too, legitimized their earthly authority with this prized, exotic commodity, whose circulation they may have sought to regulate and manipulate to their benefit.25 Spondylus also had very important ritual functions among the Inca, who attributed to it the power of fecundity and put it to use as an essential ingredient of rain-making rites because it comes from the sea, conceived as the ultimate source of water that cycles through the cosmos.26 Thus, say the Spaniards, the Inca offered prodigious amounts of the shell, sometimes pulverized into dust, to sacred springs and other water sources in fervent efforts to avert drought and promote bountiful crops. That the Wari and other contemporary people attributed similar capacities to Spondylus is suggested by the widespread surge in the votive use of the shell, previously scarce among Peruvian cultures, following a disastrous, latesixth-century drought (the longest and most intense of the last 1,500 years) that coincided with Wari’s rise.27 One place that registered this heightened use was the Huamachuco region in the northern highlands, including Cerro Amaru. This shrine captured Wari’s attention in the years following the drought, perhaps in part because of its sacred water wells and its location on the highland route over which Spondylus traveled from Ecuador.28 The figures-on-a-shell, then, may refer to a belief that Wari tunic-wearing elites had the power to intercede in the cosmic hydrological

Figures 211a, 211b [75]. Figure pendant (front and back); wood, shell, stone, and silver; 10.2 x 6.4 x 2.6 cm. Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, AP 2002.04.

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Figure 212 [77]. Trumpet with figure; Strombus shell, shell, and stone; H. 19.1 cm. The Dayton Art Institute, Museum purchase, 1970.32.

cycle in order to blunt its destructive caprices and assure the renewing, seasonal arrival of rain upon which the future hinged—a claim given reality by the water and agricultural infrastructures that the Wari introduced in several regions (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).29 Related meanings may lie behind a few trumpets made of Strombus (conch shell also native to Ecuadorian coastal waters) that are inlaid with staff-bearing humans similarly attired in tunics, ear ornaments, collars, and headdresses (fig. 212). Such trumpets, fashioned by removing the shell’s spire to form

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a mouthpiece, are still used today during ceremonies in areas of the highlands.30 Among the Inca, trumpets were men’s instruments and the same may have been true among the Wari, for the figures inlaid on the trumpets are males and elsewhere another male is depicted playing a trumpet of a different type.31 In addition to the categories of objects discussed above, Wari inlaid ornaments and objects include necklaces or necklace pendants made of small trapezoidal plaques (fig. 213), the thumb rests of spear throwers (fig. 214), spoons or spatulas, and containers.

Figure 213 [74]. Ornament with figure; shell, stone, and metal (silver?); 6.6 x 3.6 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, In memory of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Humphreys, gift of their daughter Helen 1944.291.

Metalwork Most known Wari works in precious metals— gold and silver objects made from hammered sheet and sometimes also with inlaid details—fall into a few major categories. Important among them are flashy plumes, their surfaces often ornamented with sacred imagery, especially the head of the staff deity but also lesser beings such as the deity’s profile attendants.32 The tapering, pin-like shafts of these ornaments suggest they were worn, shimmering and quivering, in clothing or perhaps more likely as projecting additions to headdresses or crowns. A large number of silvered copper plumes are said to come from several burials at Pomacanchi, southeast of Cuzco, which contained a total of at least 141 metal ornaments, including many bells and wide undecorated cuffs for the wrists or ankles (see fig. 12).33 An example with an especially elegant shape was excavated from a burial at Huaca Pucllana on the central coast (fig. 215); several others are said to derive from different sites in the same region, including Pachacamac and Ancón (figs. 216, 217).

Figures 214a, 214b [78]. Spear-thrower thumb rest with bird (two views); bone and stone; 8 x 4 cm. Roemer- und PelizaeusMuseum, Hildesheim, V. 5522.

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Figure 217 [89]. Plume; gold; 27.5 x 6.9 x 0.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 31797. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY. Photo: Claudia Obrocki.

The Wari also made silver or gold ear ornaments in sparing numbers. One especially handsome and elaborate silver pair features flaring, concave frontals attached to thick hollow shafts that contain pellets and rattle when they move (fig. 218). The posts, held in place when worn by cotton stoppers that remain intact, are cleverly punned as the scaly bodies of serpents with threatening toothy heads that seem to mingle serpent and feline features.34 Only a few metal neck ornaments can be attributed securely to the Wari. One of the largest and most spectacular is a U-shaped pectoral, its arms tipped by the heads of fanged mythical creatures (fig. 219b). The steps along the outer edge give way at the

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Figure 215 [90]. Plume, from Huaca Pucllana; silver; 28.9 x 15.3 cm. Museo de Sitio Huaca Pucllana, Lima, MSHP-97-156 (ME). Photo: Daniel Antonio Giannoni Succar. Figure 216 [88]. Plume; gold; 21.8 x 4.6 x 0.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 31795. Image: bpk, Berlin/Ethnologisches Museum/Art Resource, NY.

bottom of the U to a fan of metal that may mimic the shape of a blade. Now in Stuttgart and accompanied by two smaller versions of unknown function (fig. 219a), this pectoral is remarkably similar to another example recently excavated under scientific conditions from a burial at Espíritu Pampa in the Vilcabamba region (Department of Cuzco).35 The burial, perhaps that of a local leader who doubled as a Wari governor, also contained a pair of gold wrist cuffs and a silver mask. Such collections as the one from Pomacanchi may come from comparable tombs (see also pp. 207–15, “Featherwork,” and pp. 251–67, “Wari’s Andean Legacy”). The same is likely true of the Stuttgart pectoral.

Figure 218 [81]. Pair of ear ornaments; silver and cotton; 9.5 cm (with shafts) x 8.6 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of Jane Costello Goldberg, from the Collection of Arnold I. Goldberg, 1986, 1987.394.580–81. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

Figures 219a, 219b [84]. Three ornaments; silver; 17 x 17 cm, 17 x 16 cm, 55 x 44 cm. Linden-Museum, Stuttgart, M31039. Image: © Linden-Museum Stuttgart. Photo: A. Dreyer.

Finally among Wari ornaments are a few impressive gold or silver plaques. Probably once mounted on a backing, such as a textile, they often feature hook-beaked birds—perhaps raptors such as the condor—with outspread wings and tail (fig. 220). In one famous example said to come from Pachacamac or its vicinity, however, the bird’s head is replaced by that of a snouted, fanged animal that may be feline (fig. 221). These precious-metal ob-

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jects are another indication that the Wari associated bird imagery with the highest status members of their society (see also pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”). Another beautifully realized plaque takes the shape of a sumolike warrior, his menacing power established as much by the axe and shield he carries at his sides as by his looming bulk and high-relief head, the eyes likely once inlaid. He wears a four-cornered hat and a tunic covered with

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I nlaid and M etal Ornaments

Figure 220 [85]. Bird plaque; gold; 13.7 x 14.6 cm. Private collection. Photo: Bruce Schwarz. Figure 221 [87]. Winged creature plaque; gold; 13 x 15.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 28787. Image: bpk, Berlin/ Ethnologisches Museum/ Art Resource, NY. Photo: Waltraut SchneiderSchuetz.

interlocked hooks found in both tie-dyed and tapestry-woven examples; the band across the waist may represent a belt (see fig. 19). The last example here is a large, arresting supernatural head made of silver (fig. 222). Although mask-like in appearance, it is more likely an ornament that was attached to something else via the pairs of holes that pierce the chin and

Figure 222 [83]. Mask-like ornament; silver; 20.5 x 18 x 5 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, B/9450. Image: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, Anthro­ pol­ogy. Photo: Craig Chesek.

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forehead. The face shares features with both the staff deity, mainly its frontality, and sacrificers, a kinship established by the upturned, fanged mouth lined with teeth.36 “Tear bands” fall from the eyes, a feather-like motif rests on the forehead, and whisker-like elements extend from the cheeks.

Notes

1. Cook (1996, 185) also notes this colored resin. 2. D’Altroy 2002, 94; Morris and von Hagen 2011, 63. 3. Proulx 2006, 194. 4. Ravines 1981, 90–95; Ravines 1977, 362–65. 5. Ravines (1981) dates this burial to the third epoch of the Middle Horizon. 6. The nail is preserved on an ornament at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (2010.328.1, 2010.328.2). 7. In 1896, the archaeologist Max Uhle ([1903] 1991, 30, pl. 4, fig. 5) excavated one of these ornaments at Pachacamac from a cemetery at the base of the Temple of Pachacamac, now known as the Painted or Polychrome Temple (Shimada 1991, xxxi), on the central coast (fig. 203). Pachacamac is also the reported origin of another pair with the second headdress type (Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA40267a, b) while another example is said to come from Ocucaje on the south coast (Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, NM 329) (Schindler 2000, 144). 8. An example with bird heads is in the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston (2011.1165.1, 2011.1165.2). In other variations, geometric motifs rather than bird heads alternate with the animal heads (Lapiner 1976, 255, fig. 593, now at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, 1978.412.215, 1978.412.216). 9. For the winged attendants, see American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8597. For the skulls, see also Misugi 1985, fig. 104b, a pair of frontals whose centers are formed by a high-relief head with skull-like features. For the A. colubrina flowers, see Sotheby’s New York, 16 May 1995, lot 11; Knobloch 2000. For the truncated staff motif, see Misugi 1985, fig. 104a. 10. This ornament and one other (Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA41595) are said to have been found at Pachacamac on the central coast. Lapiner (1976, 255 and note) reports the find-spot of another pair of this type as Cahuachi on the south coast, but suggests this provenience may be incorrect and that the pair may instead come from Pativilca on the central coast (Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1978.412.215 and 1978.412.216).

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Finally is an ornament recovered on the north coast at La Libertad, Hacienda Casa Grande, Chicama Valley (Peabody Museum, Harvard University, 47-63-30.5683). 11. Miller and Taube 1993, 114. 12. Bruhns and Kelker 2010, 150; Cook 1996, 184. 13. T. Topic and J. Topic 1984, 38–40. 14. Bruhns and Kelker 2010, 151. 15. Cook 1996, 184. 16. Llagostera et al. 1988, pl. 7, 8, 12; Torres et al. 1991. For more on the use of hallucinogens in ancient Andean ritual practice, see, for instance, Knobloch 2002 and Stone 2011. 17. Prümers 2001. 18. Cook 1996, 184. Mary Glowacki (2002, 282) reports having found snuff spoons and perhaps a snuff tube in the tombs of women at Qoripata, a Wari site near Pikillacta in the Cuzco region; Gordon McEwan (2005a, 34; personal communication, 2011) also found two small spoons in Units 16B-D and 40 at Pikillacta. 19. For example, Young-Sánchez 2004a, 65. 20. Rengifo Chunga et al. 2008, 129–31. 21. Knobloch (2000, fig. 10) reproduces a drawing of a Wari individual who holds a small circular object that may be a mirror. 22. This head is similar to those that adorn the handles of some Wari urns (see fig. 103b) (Anita Cook, personal communication, 2011). Other handled mirrors with rows of human heads include a ChimúWari example at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in which many silver nails remain embedded (1995.428; see also Sotheby’s New York, 16 May 1995, lot 18), and one at the National Museum of the American Indian, Washington, DC (Keleman 1943, 298b). A history of Andean mirrors has not been written, but versions with handles may be a northern tradition; several Moche and Chimú handled examples are known. 23. See Schmidt 1929, pl. VII, lower left for a non-Spondylus example at Berlin’s Ethnologisches Museum (VA41598). 24. D’Altroy and Earle 1985; Murra 1975. In colonial times, a piece of the shell smaller than a fingernail fetched four reales, or one-half of a Spanish dollar (piece of eight) (Blower 2000, 210).

25. Jennings 2006, 277; Jennings and Craig 2001, 481. 26. Gose 1993, 501–2; Murra 1975. 27. Cordy-Collins 1990, 396, 408; Shimada 1991, LI. 28. J. Topic and T. Topic 1992, 172– 74; J. Topic and T. Topic 1983–85, 47; T. Topic and J. Topic 2010b. 29. Two of the figures-on-a-shell are said to come from Pachacamac on the central coast (Schmidt 1929, pl. VII). The larger of the two was lost during World War II; the smaller still survives at the Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin (VA 41598). On Wari’s interest in water, see also Glowacki and Malpass 2003. Glowacki (2005) suggests that the ancients also used Spondylus to induce visions. 30. For instance, Allen 1988, 116; Urton 1981, 28. 31. A. Rowe 1979, 6, 11. A few other Wari shell trumpets feature registers of inlaid, profile heads like those that decorate inlaid tunics. One is at the Ohara Gallery of Art in Kobe, Japan, which also owns an example with a tunic-wearing figure (Misugi 1985, 60), and another is at the Museum zu Allerheiligen in Switzerland (Schaffhausen 1999, 251). The trumpet illustrated may have been found in the HuachoPativilca region on the central coast (Lapiner 1976, 255). 32. Chávez 1984–85, fig. 20; Flores Espinoza 1959, pl. 2c. 33. Chávez 1984–85. 34. King 2000, 32. 35. Cuzco 2011. 36. See Bergh 1999, fig. 86, for the head of a similar sacrificer rendered in tapestry weave.

Susan E. Bergh

Figure 223 [97]. One of two offerings found at Pikillacta in the 1920s. Figurine offering; greenstone, Spondylus shells, copper or copper alloy; H. 2 to 5.2 cm (figurines). Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.825–64 (figurines), 7.038 (rod).

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Figurines

Many Wari figurines are sculptural masterworks in miniature, and the Wari used them most impressively to create complex offerings that they buried deep in the earth in acts of devotion or dedication. All documented examples of such offerings—three, in total—come from Pikillacta, the massive Wari outpost near Cuzco in the southern highlands. Two of them, each featuring forty small human figures carved in turquoise-colored stone,1 seem to relate closely to each other and may even have been deposited as part of a single ritual event. In 1927, locals discovered the two offerings, now in Cuzco’s Museo Inka and Madrid’s Museo de América,2 and we have only broad, hearsay reports about their original contexts: two deep, circular, stone-covered pits that may have been located within several meters of each other. Aside from the figurines, each offering contained a tapering rod made of copper or an alloy of copper as well as Spondylus (thorny oyster) and Strombus (conch) shells.3 It is said that the Madrid figurines—one of which disappeared in Peru shortly after the offering came to light—formed a circle around their metal rod, which had been driven into the earth (fig. 223); the Cuzco set apparently lay prone on a bed of sand around the rod and shells.4 Thus, the contexts and contents of the offerings seem to have been very similar and the figurines themselves, all depicted in distinctive garments and headgear of various kinds, further imply a relationship. Overlooking differences in size, sixteen of the Cuzco figurines have an identical or similar counterpart in the Madrid set, two from each set form a quartet, and three others, a triplet.5 Except for another pair within the Cuzco group,6 the rest are individual in their traits or combinations of traits.

Aside from a kneeling, bound prisoner unique to the Madrid set, all the figurines stand erect with their arms at their sides although, curiously, one in each set seems to lack hands.7 Facial features are generic—all have wide-open, almond-shaped eyes and minimally modeled lips parted by an incision—but variations in the features’ relationships and in the overall shapes of the large faces impart an impression of individuality that differences in costume enhance. Among the hats and headdresses, often settled over a head cloth that covers the figure’s neck, an undecorated turban is common (fig. 224a). Decorated turbans and several other types also occur (figs. 224b, 224c, 224e, 224g), some perhaps made of an animal skin or feathers, others of a long narrow headband (llautu) coiled many times around the head (fig. 224d), and one of a sling, a fiber weapon used to hurl stones.8 Most of the figurines are clad in a single tunic-like garment that falls to the lower legs or feet (figs. 224a, 224b, 224d, 224g). Nevertheless, a few tunics, including the prisoner’s, are shorter, some figurines seem to wear layers of garments (figs. 224c, 224e), and one wears only a belt (or loincloth) and broad collar (fig. 224f).9 Many of the garments are individualized by their incised geometric decoration—circles, grids, zigzags, and the like. While none of the tunics correlate securely with known Wari tunic types, several have vertical stripes reminiscent of tapestry-woven examples, and the circles on a few others may refer to tie-dyed cloth (figs. 224b, 224g; compare with fig. 144). Two of the matched figurines seem to carry a bag over one shoulder,10 and a small minority, including the prisoner, wear ornaments in their ears, nose, or around their necks (figs. 224f, 224g).11 In all the two sets contain fifty-

Figurines from the two offerings found at Pikillacta in the 1920s. Photographs represent figurines in the Madrid set. Drawings represent figurines in the Cuzco set.

Figure 224a. Two of three similar figurines wearing tunics with diamond patterning and simple turbanlike headgear that rests on a headcloth. Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.839; H. 3.2 cm. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. I D; H. 3 cm.

Figure 224c. Pair of figurines wearing layered garments and a distinctive hat or helmet. Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.858; H. 4.2 cm. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. III R; H. 4.3 cm.

Figure 224d. Figurine unique to the Cuzco set wearing a tunic and perhaps a coiled headband (llautu). Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. V h; H. 3 cm.

Figure 224f. Pair of figurines wearing broad collars, belts or loincloths, and large nose ornaments. Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.840; H. 2.8 cm. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. II L; H. 3.4 cm.

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Figure 224b. Pair of figurines wearing decorated, turban-like headgear and tunics that may refer to tapestry-woven examples. Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.826; H. 4.7 cm. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. II M; H. 4.1 cm.

Figure 224e. Figurine unique to the Cuzco set wearing layered garments. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. IV W; H. 2.5 cm.

Figure 224g. Pair of figurines wearing tunics with circles that may be tie-dyed, complex headdresses, ear ornaments, and necklaces. Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.833; H. 3.3 cm. Drawing: after Valcárcel 1933, pl. II O; H. 2.8 cm.

seven types,12 some of which may represent women, although features that would permit positive sex identification—such as tupu pins, which women used to fasten their clothing— are lacking. What do these apparently paired, related offerings mean? Some espouse the view that the figurines represent not individuals but ethnic types or groups, based on the diversity especially of headdresses, which at least some colonial-period native groups used to distinguish themselves from others.13 Building on this idea, which has yet to be strengthened by affiliating the figurines’ various “dress codes” with those in use in specific regions during the period, a few interpret the figurines as symbols of vanquished groups and the offerings, by implication, as microcosmic depictions of Wari’s realm.14 In stark contrast is a reading that takes the figurines to represent the founding ancestors of Wari royal lineages. According to this approach, the offerings helped the Wari lay claim to legitimacy and inheritance as they established themselves in the Cuzco region.15 The best support for this idea comes not from analysis of apparel but in part from one colonial-period source, which reports that people of the central coast regarded as their first progenitor a tiny green idol of otherwise undescribed appearance that was kept in a shell, together with three small green stones that were the origins (perhaps the ancestors) of beans, “wheat,” and chili peppers.16 Also, at least some Inca figurines, although made of gold rather than greenstone, represented royal lineages that descended from Manko Qhapaq, the legendary founder of the Inca Empire.17 Finally, although the hearsay reports about the offerings’ context do not specify the room or even the kind of structure in which the figurines were found, one strong possibility is a niched hall, an important type of ceremonial building where the Wari may have performed rituals related to ancestor worship (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).18 The reading of the figurines as honored ancestors, however, explains neither the presence of a prisoner in the Madrid set nor the diversity of garments and headdresses that the figurines wear.19

235 F igurines

The structure of the offerings suggests that certain numbers are also meaningful, particularly two, expressed by both the paired offerings and the paired figurines, and forty. The readiest explanation for emphasis on pairs is dualism, the Andean tendency to construct many aspects of existence—social and political, cosmic and religious—in terms of dialectical pairs whose reciprocal interaction makes life possible (see pp. 103–21, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”). Thus, among other possibilities, the figurine pairs could refer in some way to the two halves into which social groups and communities may have been divided (perhaps including the ancestors of the two parts),20 and the offerings, if limited to two and deposited together, to a ritual balancing of forces that sanctified ground and space. Interestingly, most of the Spondylus shells in at least one of the offerings had been broken in two.21 While Wari interest in dualism turns up in other ways (for example, see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”), the number forty is less common.22 In the figurine offerings, some scholars relate it to practices of the later Inca, for whom it had significance as a principle of socio-political and ritual organization. For example, the existence of tiers of forty Inca officials who represented social units of varying sizes has prompted the suggestion that the offerings reflect similar organization among the Wari.23 The presence of shells may imply that at least part of the offerings’ purpose was to assure the flow of water and with it the prosperity of the land; at the time of the Spanish conquest, native Andeans invested Spondylus with a prodigious power to attract water (see also pp. 145–57, “Shattered Ceramics and Offerings,” and pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”). This level of meaning is compatible with interpretation of the figurines as ancestors, whom Andean people, like many others across the world, revered as sources of fertility.24 The blue-green color of the stone could also allude to fertility concerns.25 The meaning of the metal rod, apparently critical because of its central placement in the offerings, is an open question; it has often been compared to the staff of authority that the staff deity and its companions carry,26 even though its distinc-

Five figurines from the lower layer of the eastern gate offering found at Pikillacta in 2004.

Figure 225a. A nude, kneeling prisoner with hands bound behind his back (front and back); gold-silver alloy?; H. 3.6 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 24, fig. 29.

Figure 225b. A warrior holding a circular shield and lances (front and back); gold-silver-copper alloy?; H. 3.6 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 26, fig. 31.

Figure 225d. A standing individual with braids or tresses of hair tied together at the back (front and back); gold-silver alloy?; H. 3 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 22, fig. 26.

tive, tapering form and lack of ornamentation are unlike that of staffs depicted artistically (for example, see fig. 75c).27 It could well refer to another implement, such as a digging stick used to work the fields or a war club.28 The third Pikillacta figurine offering was also structurally complex.29 Archaeologists found it near the threshold of the site’s main portal (the eastern gate), buried beneath the floor of the primary, corridor-like “street” that penetrates the residential portion of the site. The offering comprised several layers, the bottommost of which, more than nine feet beneath the corridor’s surface, contained another tapering rod of copper or copper alloy. It too may have been driven into the earth.

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Figure 225c. A profile warrior holding an axe to his rear and a square shield to the front of his body (front and back); greenstone; H. 2.7 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 25, fig. 30.

Figure 225e. A standing individual (front and back); Spondylus shell; H. 2.7 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 23, fig. 28.

Just above the rod was a pile of forty-nine or fifty small human figurines that originally may have been tied into a cloth bundle, although the cloth had long since disintegrated.30 These figurines are marked by the diversity of their materials; many are made of cast or hammered metal (perhaps including gold-silver alloys),31 some of Spondylus shell, and three of colored stone. They fall into several broad groups: a few bound prisoners (fig. 225a), a larger number of warriors, identified by the shields and other weapons that they carry (figs. 225b, c), and an even larger contingent of unarmed individuals, who often stand with their empty hands at their sides (figs. 225d, e).32 Most wear simply rendered

headgear and garments that, along with other accouterments, can be used to sort the figurines into subgroups of varying sizes, including some pairs; a few, made of thin plaques of shell or stone, are depicted in profile (fig. 225c). This level of the offering also contained a few pieces of Spondylus and two Strombus columella spirals, one carved from stone. Immediately above were the offering’s largest, most complex, and most spectacular figurines, all made of cast copper or copper Three figurines from the upper layer of the eastern gate offering found at Pikillacta in 2004. Figure 226a. Warrior holding a large rectangular shield, a spear-thrower, and several extra spears (front and side). The front portion of the spear mounted in the spearthrower is bent backward; copper alloy; H. 8.7 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 13, fig. 16.

Figure 226b. Crouching feline with tail curled to the right (front and side); copper alloy; H. 6.4 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 14, fig. 17.

Figure 226c. Composite creature brandishing a club over the body of a human (front and side); copper alloy, H. 7.2 cm. After Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 17, fig. 20.

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alloy: two shield-bearing human warriors, one wielding a spear-thrower (fig. 226a) and the other, a club; two very similar felines, their teeth bared, crouched to pounce, with tails curled in opposite directions (fig. 226b); and two sacrificer-like supernatural or mythical beings. One of the last, which clutches a severed head and a long, slender rod, has the head of a feline but the two-digit hands and feet of a camelid or deer. The other is a snouted, composite creature of unclear genealogy brandish-

Figure 227 [93]. Figurine; greenstone; 4.7 x 2.5 x 2.2 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Funds Provided by Jan and Frederick R. Mayer, 1992.502.3. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012. Figure 228 [94]. Figurine; greenstone; 3.5 x 1.9 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Collection of Frederick and Jan Mayer, 1994.45. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012.

Figure 229 [95]. Figurine; greenstone; 4 x 1.9 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, New World Department Acquisition Fund, 1997.15. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012. Figure 230 [96]. Figurine; greenstone; 3.2 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Funds from the Alianza de las Artes Americanas, 1995.39.1. Photo: © Denver Art Museum 2012.

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Figure 231 [82]. Two pendant figurines; silver; H. 4.1 cm (each). Milwaukee Public Museum, 34596/ 9672, 34597/9672.

ing a club over the supine body of a human, its chest slashed open to reveal the organs within (fig. 226c). Several of the implements these figurines carry, including the clubs, have a tapering form similar to that of the rod in the offering’s foundational layer. After covering these artifacts with earth, the Wari burned an offering in the pit. Among the charred remains, laid out in a patterned arrangement, were valves of Spondylus with apexes removed, one broken in two, another into four, and a third into eight pieces. Finally, just beneath the corridor’s surface, a layer of broken Wari vessels capped the offering, which may have been covered with a stone slab. The time that lapsed between the deposit of the layers is hard to know; the offering may represent a single episode or a few that included a later burning event aimed at reconsecration.33 The figurines’ identities are also elusive although emphasis on war, conquest, and cosmically sanctioned sacrifice is clear, leading the excavators to suggest that the offering commemorates specific conquests (and individuals) and with them Wari’s right to settle and control the land around Pikillacta.34 Dualism may also structure this offering

239 F igurines

although it seems more equivocally expressed than in the others. Whatever the case, something about the offering suited it for placement in one of the most trafficked areas of the site— near the threshold of the principal gateway where all who visited would have passed either around or over the offering. Only further scientific excavation will reveal whether other offerings occur beneath the corridor and whether it is coincidence that all known buried figurine offerings come from Pikillacta. In other locales stone figurines have been recovered from tombs and the surfaces of sites.35 The figurines that now reside in collections presumably come from one of these contexts (figs. 227–30). Most are human and made of stone, especially blue-green stone that, aside from any connection with fertility, may have carried the connotation of wealth and high status—in tapestry-woven tunics at least, blue is the most prestigious color that ancient weavers used (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”).36 A few, however, are made of metal, such as two very similar silver figurines each wearing a turban headdress and garments with belts or decorated waists; both are pierced with a hole for suspension, perhaps from a necklace (fig. 231). Since they may

Figure 232 [72]. Pendant figurine (front and back); wood, shell, turquoise, and gold; 3.3 x 1.5 x 1.1 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.437.

have belonged to an assemblage with other, similar bead-like figurines, it might be an error to interpret them as a pair. Figurines with surface mosaics of metal and brightly colored stone and shell are rare, perhaps because of their fragility. One delicate example (fig. 232), also pierced for suspension, has a wood core over which a sticky, resin-like material was applied, sometimes so thickly that it creates three-dimensional volume. This is the case with the hat and the unidentified objects on the chest, which were built up with the resin and then overlaid with gold foil.37 Another, much larger mosaic figurine was

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similarly constructed: over a wood core, the artist fashioned a handsome Wari dignitary with carved pieces of stone, including lapis lazuli (the nose) and perhaps steatite (the arms and legs), such shells as Spondylus (the upper face and elsewhere), and now-mineralized silver sheet (the hat). This figure, which seems to wear a tapestry-woven tunic, also is pierced through its shoulders and may have found use as a pendant (see fig. 211; see pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments,” for more on this figure). The Wari also made figurines of more humble materials, especially fired clay.

notes

1. Inconclusive tests were conducted in the 1930s to identify the stone from which one set is made; it may be sodalite rather than turquoise (Valcárcel 1933, 23–27). 2. For the Cuzco figurines, including brief descriptions and a complete suite of drawings, see Valcárcel 1933. For the Madrid figurines, see Ramos and Blasco 1977, 67–75, 97–108 (with descriptions of each figurine and a complete set of photographs), and Trimborn and Vega 1935, 85–89. 3. Thanks to Heather Lechtman for her help in phrasing the composition of the so-far unanalyzed metals, which are sometimes referred to as bronze in the literature. 4. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 68; Trimborn and Vega 1935, 87–88; Valcárcel 1933, 22, 33; see also McEwan 1987, 27–28, for a few important details, including about the loss of one Madrid figurine. 5. Ramos and Blasco (1977, 68, 97–108) provide the only detailed correlation of the sets, which accounts for nineteen Cuzco figurines and twenty Madrid figurines. They seem to rank the matches by describing them with such terms as “igual” (the same) or, more commonly, “muy semejante” (very similar), “semejante” (similar), and the like. The size discrepancies range from none or negligible to 12 mm. 6. Valcárcel 1933, 31, figs. A and E. 7. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 74, pl. XIh; Valcárcel 1933, 30, fig. O1. The two are otherwise distinct but both seem to wear layered garments, unlike many of their compatriots. It could be that the hands are pulled to the inside of the garments. 8. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 71–72, 97–108; Valcárcel 1933, 29–32. Cook (1992, 350–51, figs. 5, 7) briefly discusses and presents drawings of the headdresses in both groups. For the sling, see Ramos and Blasco 1977, 72, 102, pl. Xc. 9. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 73, 97–108; Valcárcel 1933, 29–32. Cook (1992, 349–50, figs. 6, 8) again presents a discussion and drawings of garments. 10. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 73, 102 (no. 18). 11. Ramos and Blasco 1977, 73, 97–108; Valcárcel 1933, 29–32. 12. This count includes the prisoner. The matching figurines account for eighteen types; the Cuzco set contains an additional twenty and the Madrid set, an extra nineteen.

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13. Anders 1986, 895–900; Cook 1992, 353–55; Ramos and Blasco 1977, 70–72, 75; Trimborn and Vega 1935, 87; Valcárcel 1933, 28, 33. 14. Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 30; Ramos and Blasco 1977, 75; Valcárcel 1933, 33. See Valcárcel 1933 and Cook 1992 for some efforts to link the figurines’ costumes and ornaments to regions. 15. Cook 1992. McEwan (1998, 79–80; 2005b, 152–53; this volume) adopts Cook’s reading. See J. Topic and T. Topic 2001, 210, for a dissenting view. 16. The Relación del Licenciado Felipe de Medina, cited in Valcárcel 1933, 23. Medina incorrectly used the term “wheat,” which is not an indigenous Andean crop. 17. Betanzos, cited in Julien 2000, 257, and McEwan 2005b, 153. 18. McEwan 2005b, 153; McEwan 1998, 79–80; see McEwan 1991, 95, fig. 6, for the initial suggestion that the offerings come from a residential patio group structure. 19. Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 29. These authors believe that, in addition to the kneeling prisoner, the Cuzco and Madrid figurines include two standing, bound prisoners. 20. See also Anders 1986, 895–900; Cook 1992, 346, 352. 21. This is the offering now in Madrid (Trimborn and Vega 1935, 88, and personal observation). Valcárcel (1933) does not mention broken Spondylus shells in his discussion of the Cuzco set. 22. Anders (1991, 1986), however, documented a group of forty small rooms at Azángaro, an intermediatesize Wari site, and forty occurs in one of the format-based number sequences in Wari tapestry-woven tunics (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestrywoven Tunics”). 23. Anders 1986, 895–900; Cook 1992, 358–60; see also Zuidema 2009, 95. Cook believes that the figurines depict “the legendary 40 founding ancestors,” that twenty figurines from one set have twins in twenty from the other, and that the latter number also has an Inca parallel in the twenty groups (ayllus) into which Cuzco’s population was organized. It is unclear how this interpretation squares with the presence of many more than forty figure types in the two figurine collections, or the fact that, due to the presence of a triplet and a quartet, the matching figurines total 39 and represent eighteen types, not twenty (see also notes 5 and 12 above).

24. For example, Gose 1993; Salomon 1995. 25. Anders 1986, 255–57; Glowacki and Malpass 2003, 442–43; Glowacki, this volume. 26. For example, Anders 1986, 257; Larrea, cited in Cook 1992, 358. 27. See Bergh 1999, fig. 95, top for a rare, possible exception. 28. For earlier Nasca representations of tapered digging sticks, which lack the foot-rests that other cultures sometimes added, see, for example, Proulx 2006, 178, and figs. 5.70, 5.79. 29. The following description is based on Arriola Tuni (2008) and particularly Arriola Tuni and Tesar (2011), which contains the most complete photographic record of the artifacts recovered in the offering together with an appendix that describes each in some detail. 30. It is not clear whether a crushed metal object fused to the back of one of the figurines represents another figurine or something else (Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, fig. 21, item 22). 31. The results of scientific analysis of the metals have not yet been published (Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 7). 32. See Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 21–27, for their classification of the figures. 33. Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011, 32–33. 34. Ibid., 30–34. 35. Cook 1992, 342. Gordon McEwan’s team discovered a fine Wari figurine in trash in Unit 36 at the site of Choquepukio but he is of the opinion that the figurine was accidentally lost or discarded rather than placed in the trash deliberately (personal communication 2012). See National Geographic 2004, xxxii, for an illustration. 36. Figurines of supernatural beings are rarer; one greenstone example depicts a sacrificer-like creature (Orlando Museum of Art, 2002.025). Thanks to Anita Cook for calling this figurine to my attention. 37. Cook and Lechtman 1996.

Susan E. Bergh

Wood Containers and Cups

Figure 233 [164]. Sacrificer container (front, back, and side views); wood and cinnabar; 10.8 x 7 x 7.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund 2007.193.a–b.

Natural fragility, climate, and time have made ancient wood objects relatively scarce, but surviving examples suggest that wood was an important Wari artistic medium. Large-scale wood objects—three-dimensional sculpture, architectural decoration carved in relief, and the like—have not been reported. Rather, wood was used mostly to create small, ornate objects of various kinds, among them elite personal ornaments (see pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”) and staffs of authority,1 containers, cups and spoons, and weaving implements. Some have shell and colored stone inlays or now-empty depressions that likely once held such inlays. Find-spots are usually unknown but preservation and available records indicate that most wood objects were buried in the dry sands of Peru’s coastal regions, away from the more rainy highlands where the Wari heartland is located. Small sculpturally elaborate containers, a few recovered scientifically on the coast, are

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among the most common surviving Wari wood objects.2 Aside from their presumed final use as offerings in tombs or other contexts, little is known about the previous function of these handsome objects, which have receptacles that are usually cylindrical and plugged at the bottom and top with separately carved stoppers.3 They have been identified as containers for lime powder (made from a calcium carbonate source such as shell or limestone).4 The lime would have been added with a small spoon or spatula to a lump of coca leaves that were chewed, probably for their mildly stimulating physical effects as well as for social and ritual reasons.5 But the interiors of the containers usually have not been examined for lime residue. One exception bears no evidence of lime on its roughly carved inner surface—only now-invisible traces of cinnabar (mercuric sulfide), the red-orange pigment that is more evident on the exterior, particularly in recesses (fig. 233).6 Thus, at least this container prob-

Figure 234. Winged supernatural creature container (front and back); wood, pigment, and shell; H. 8.5 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, NM186.

Figure 235. Prisoner container (front and back); wood, bone inlay, pigment; 7.6 x 3.8 x 3.3 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Rogers Fund and Carol R. Meyer and Arthur M. Bullowa Gifts, 1977, 1977.376. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

ably did not hold lime. It may be that contents varied with circumstances and container type. It also could be that the contents had a relationship with the container’s artistic subject matter, very often supernatural creatures with fanged mouths that sometimes are winged and commonly throttle or hold small humans, represented either in toto or by the head alone. One unusually complex container makes it clear that this imagery alludes to sacrifice: a feline-headed being, its magnificently carved face surrounded by appendages that suggest a connection to the staff deity, draws a knife across the throat of the human it holds across its lap by the hair (fig. 233). The aftermath of this drama may be referenced by the two identically coiffed human heads that hang

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from the feline’s belt, overlapping bird-headed bands that spring from ankle ornaments. (Such bands emerge more clearly from the feline’s wristlets.) A third head dangles, apparently by its trachea, from the beak of a bird head at the back of the headdress from which descend the feline’s long tresses, each tipped by a zoomorphic head depicted in profile. At the sides of the headdress, trimmed with upright elements that may represent a crown of feathers, are additional figures with arms raised above their heads. They seem to be human, although their faces are now eroded.7 The supernatural beings that this group of containers portrays, then, are predators and other details of imagery reinforce the connection: the small felines occasionally found on the shoulders or in the headdress of the main figure; the hooked raptor-like beaks of the bird heads used as ornaments; and, in one instance, the axe- and shield-bearing warrior who appears on the container’s back.8 A curious relative of the group is an example that assumes the shape of a winged animal-headed creature with upright ears, toothy mouth, and open, empty hands. Identified variously as a bat, a fox, or a feline, it carries on its back a trachea and a heart that nests between lungs, all rendered three-dimensionally (fig. 234). Although the organs have not been identified as to species, they could be human.9 The precise identities and meanings of these figures are unknown but the sacrifice with which they are associated may have had

Figure 236 [163]. Animal container; wood, shell, and stone; H. 4.4 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8599. Image: courtesy American Museum of Natural History, Anthropology. Photo: Craig Chesek.

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correlates in religious practices; archaeologists found human heads buried in the floor of one Wari D-shaped temple at Conchopata, and the heads had been severed rather than removed from the already-dead bodies of ancestors.10 If these heads represent sacrifices and not war trophies, it is likely that, as in other places of the world, the sacrifice was solemnly undertaken as a renewal rite that enticed the benevolence of cosmic forces through offering of the most precious material available (see pp. 103–21, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”). As the anthropologist Victor Turner observed, sacrificial immolation opens a channel between the visible and invisible, and ritual killing, which like the birth process involves the flow of blood, can be thought to give life and animate, even as it slays. According to Turner, in complex societies like Wari, sacrifice may also factor in other state-sponsored rituals and with them serve as a way to regulate boundaries and maintain structure at the level of the state.11 Although many of the supernatural beings depicted in the wood containers have associations with sacrifice, a few do not and instead carry staffs or other objects in their hands. Another important category of containers depicts humans of various kinds, the most identifiable of whom are warriors, recognized by the weapons that they carry, and prisoners. The fine example shown in Figure 235 kneels, hands tied behind his back; the cotton yarn that remains attached to the container at his wrists may refer to a restraining rope. The upper body is incised with a grid that could represent a checkerboard tunic, and long braids of hair fall onto his back from beneath a feline-head cap or helmet. The meaning of the designs painted on the face and the disk of bone that inlays the chest is unknown. The identities of other human-shaped containers are less clear. Some of these figures carry objects including cups or other vessels in their hands; a few wear elite ornaments but are otherwise not elaborately attired. Containers in the form of either felines or foxes also exist. In one favored type, the animal sits on its haunches with body upright and hands grasping a rod-like object that rests on a small, square platform between the

Wood C ontainers and C ups

creature’s feet (fig. 236). Whether this activity refers to grinding, fire making, digging, or something else is unclear.12 Occasionally the rod and platform are replaced by a human head.13 In the container illustrated, shell inlays create a pelt-like pattern over the body and eye ornaments include a feather-like motif above the eye and a “tear band” that falls from the lower lid onto the cheek. Other containers also survive and suggest that in antiquity a wider range of forms and types was common. One notable example takes the shape of a human male seated atop a small, kayak-like boat made of lashed totora, a buoyant shoreline reed.14 Such boats occasionally also occur elsewhere in Wari iconography (fig. 103) and are still in use today in coastal regions of Peru and Bolivia’s Lake Titicaca. A small number of wood cups, or keros, carved with intricate iconography in the Wari style are known, and they invariably feature supernatural imagery. For instance, encircling

the circumference of one is a relief register with four winged staff-bearing figures that in other contexts appear as the staff deity’s profile companions (fig. 13).15 The cup’s figures are of two types that alternate: one casts its animal head upward so that it gazes at the cup’s rim; the other, which has the hooked beak of a raptor, faces forward. In both, the wing’s feathers and the appendage that flows backward from the neck are tipped with small zoomorphic heads that align vertically behind the body. Such figure pairs are also known in

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tapestry-woven tunics and imply that dualistic thought inflected Wari religion (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”). Other cups feature a fanged frontal head, executed in high relief, that sometimes has hair-like appendages like the staff deity’s. It is not clear, however, whether these heads represent versions of the staff deity or its occasional associate, a sacrificer. Wood cups may have been used during feasting ceremonies to drink chicha (native corn beer) or other beverages.

notes

1. Staffs are crucial in Wari iconography and are assumed to have been important symbols of rulership but very few are known archaeologically, perhaps because most were made of perishable wood. One apparent exception, a fragment today in a private collection, has a finial carved as a standing, staff-bearing supernatural creature flanked by felines. 2. Ravines (1981, 161–62) reports that finely made wood containers have been recovered from Middle Horizon tombs at Ancón on the central coast. See Lapiner (1976, 240) for several reported find-spots on the south and central coasts (respectively, perhaps Coyungo in the Nasca Valley and the Huacho-Pativilca region). Two containers in Berlin are said to come from Pachacamac (VA 40419 and VA 40420). 3. The stoppers, particularly the top one, are today often missing. 4. Trout 2006. 5. For aspects of coca’s meaning among contemporary Quechuaspeakers of the Peruvian highlands, see, for example, Allen 1981. 6. The analysis was performed in 2007 by Ellen Howe of the Sherman Fairchild Center for Objects Conservation at the Metropolitan Museum of Art with visual microscopy and X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy (XRF). 7. A sample from this container yielded a radiocarbon age of cal. 769–887 AD (95 percent confidence interval). My thanks to Joerg Haeberli for his advice about radiocarbon issues. 8. This container is at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (1978.412.142). 9. Schindler (2000, 142) identifies the creature as a bat and suggests that the organs are animal and related to divination. See also Cook (this volume, p. 112). Jim Kennedy of Bat Conservation International, Inc., kindly provided an opinion about the creature’s heritage based on photographs of this container. According to Kennedy, the face and ears are bat-like but the creature lacks other features limited to bats, such as a noseleaf, and the wings are distinctly bird-like. Thus, he could make no positive bat identification.

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Wood C ontainers and C ups

10. For example, Tung 2008, 294; Tung and Knudson 2008; Tung et al. 2007. 11. Turner 1977, 201–2. 12. Conklin (1970, 21–22) suggests that fire drilling may be depicted in one Middle Horizon tapestry. 13. The head is reminiscent of one featured in ear ornaments (see fig. 203). 14. This container is also at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (1978.412.250). See Vranich et al. 2005 for totora boats. 15. This cup is said to come from Cahuachi on the south coast or, perhaps, from the Huacho-Pativilca region of the central coast (Lapiner 1976, cat. 568).

The Aftermath

William H. Isbell and Margaret YoungSánchez

Wari’s Andean Legacy

Figure 237 [43]. Faceneck vessel with figure; ceramic and slip; 17.8 x 11.4 x 11.4 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Henry L. Batterman Fund, 41.418.

At the dawn of the South American Bronze Age, central Andean peoples were overwhelmed by Wari, a new culture that spread from its mountainous Ayacucho Valley homeland, bringing great changes to most of highland and coastal Peru (see maps, pp. xiv, xv). This revolutionary new social formation lies deep in the ancient past, with scant hints of its memory preserved in sixteenth-century Inca myths and oral accounts. Consequently, knowledge is largely limited to the archaeology of material remains. Wari is distinguished by certain mortuary practices, new settlement patterns and architectural forms, and the characteristic art forms discussed in this volume.1 They define the central Andean Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000), when Wari established a centralized hierarchy of political capitals,2 popularized arsenical bronze,3 organized the distribution of luxury goods throughout its sphere of influence,4 and played a crucial role in the northward dissemination of a religious imagery and an associated set of beliefs that originated in the south—southern Peru, western Bolivia, and northern Chile.5 During Wari’s ascendency genetic variation increased in local populations,6 implying demographic movements and ethnic mixing. Today, although ancient Andean archaeologists and art historians still debate the nature of Wari political organization, most conclude that Wari was a complex archaic state and that it probably developed into an empire—Peru’s first—that was ruled by a centralized and hierarchical government, conquered and colonized distant territories, and reorganized the colonized people into administered provinces.7 However, its profound influences on later Andean cultures, arts, and events have gone almost unrecognized. A selective re-evalua-

[148]. Overleaf, Fourcornered hat with winged creature; camelid fiber; 14.3 x 15 x 15.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund 1945.378.

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tion of Wari’s Andean legacy, which is so great that many significant issues must be mentioned only briefly or omitted entirely here, will help correct this situation. Enough can be said, however, to provide an appreciation of the immensity of Wari’s importance in the central Andean past; it is hoped that this will promote a new dialogue about Wari, beginning with this groundbreaking exhibition. The most significant transformations Wari brought to the central Andes have gone largely unrecognized. Together with Tiwanaku, a contemporary state centered on the south shore of Lake Titicaca in Bolivia, Wari shifted the axis of Andean political power and cultural complexity through development in two fundamental domains, agropastoral production and demographics on one hand, and socio-political organization on the other. These transformations, accompanied by persuasive new religious and political ideologies, laid the foundation for Wari’s better recognized achievements in city planning, architecture, and art. Failure to fully appreciate Wari’s contributions can be attributed to the very recent discovery that it was a culture separate and independent from Tiwanaku (see pp. 31–45, “The Rise of an Andean Empire”). The scale and complexity of Wari’s accomplishment undoubtedly demanded new political and economic systems that likely influenced the later Inca as they built their even more extensive empire. Evolutionary ideal types such as “empire,” however, are intellectual double-edged swords. They stimulate us to ask more cogent questions of the archaeological remains. But they also provoke answers based on expectations about the ideal type. Today we must continue to wrestle with questions that are not easily resolved by material remains alone. For

example, do settlements with Wari architectural forms, ceramic styles, and luxury goods found in territories far from the Wari capital identify Wari provincial administrative centers, as most Andean archaeologists believe? Or are alternative interpretations more convincing? Theresa Lange Topic and John Topic argue that Wari remains represent ritual practices shared by independent kingdoms participating in a great religious confederacy.8 Their inspiration comes not from the ideal types of comparative cultural evolution, but from early colonial accounts of Andean principalities under the Spanish. It is the task of archaeologists and art historians to articulate the most convincing interpretation, verified by as much data as can be brought to bear. But material remains are inscrutable and subject to understandings that are easily influenced by the ideas, convictions, and assumptions held by the analysts. Knowledge of the ancient past is more often a plausible account than a proven hypothesis. Shift of the Andean Axis of Power The Wari heartland lies in the southern highland Ayacucho Valley. Cultural development remained relatively simple until the final century or two of the preceding Early Intermediate Period (AD 1–600), when the rustic local culture known as Huarpa adopted new ceramic styles and techniques from south coastal Nasca culture.9 This at least is what pottery documents. The Middle Horizon is marked by extensive Wari influence outside of Ayacucho, primarily registered in ceramics but also in architecture and other remains.10 Wari influences outside the homeland began in the Nasca region but spread rapidly in all directions. About fifty or seventy-five years into the Middle Horizon, Tiwanakoid religious iconography11 appeared in Ayacucho, surely promoting the adoption of new beliefs.12 Wari artists incorporated the religious imagery on prestige goods such as fine ceramics, textiles, and mosaics. Such commodities were used and displayed at Wari itself and distributed throughout Wari’s sphere of influence, signaling political and economic power as well as cultural prestige. Wari material culture and its influences spread from the homeland to as far

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north as the Piura and Chotano Rivers and, in the south, to Cuzco and the coastal Moquegua Valley. Following the beginnings of central Andean sedentism (the process of settling down) several millennia before the Common Era, the focus of political complexity, demographic density, and technological prowess was northern Peru, especially the north and central coast. The southern highlands and even the south coast remained relatively backward. But with Wari, Tiwanaku, and the Middle Horizon the center shifted to the southern highlands, altering the Andean axis of power forever. After Wari declined, the north coast briefly reasserted dominance with the Lambayeque and Chimú cultures.13 But the Inca Empire, with its capital in Cuzco, showed that cultural ascendancy had shifted south, and into the highlands, for the longue durée. The southern highlands are higher, drier, and colder than the sierra of northern Peru, making them a more difficult environment for human settlement. But the southern mountains offer an abundance of land and resources to agropastoralists skilled enough to cultivate extremely dry canyons and very steep mountainsides, and to exploit the expansive puna grasslands, so high that they are unfit for anything but grazing. The Wari and Tiwanaku succeeded in making these territories productive. With the onset of the Middle Horizon, settlement patterns shifted in Ayacucho.14 From the earlier preferred locations on hilltops and surrounded by walls, large Middle Horizon settlements were re-sited to flat spurs and valley sides adjacent to deep canyons and gorges. Apparently they were not walled, implying a low level of concern for defensibility. This shift correlates with significant population increase, suggesting that more was involved than new appreciation of landscape. Most likely, the shift documents diminished levels of conflict associated with Wari’s rise to political dominance, and the success of new irrigation technology that channeled water into intermediateelevation fields and communities through long canals tracking hillside contours. Engineering prowess had to be equaled by administrative skills, and both surely required bureaucratic specialization. More or less contemporary with

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Figure 238. Rumicolca, the Wari aqueduct. The channel flows along the top of a tiered wall that the Wari built. The Inca later broke through the wall to create a gate and sheathed the sides of the gate with fine masonry in the characteristic Inca style. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

Wari’s ascendancy, Tiwanaku was gaining pre-eminence in the Titicaca Basin, outstripping other settlements in size, population, and architectural grandeur.15 Agropastoral intensification and administrative prowess were also responsible, although emphasizing different strategies. Middle Horizon irrigation features are little-studied in Wari’s heartland, although surface reconnaissance of the territory surrounding the ancient city reveals a remarkable complex of long canals, reservoirs, lakes, and springs constituting a vast hydraulic system surely constructed by Wari’s urban residents.16 Furthermore, lengthy and complex canals are documented well at Wari provincial settlements, including Pikillacta and Cerro Baúl, so there can be no question of Wari expertise in irrigation (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).17 In fact, Rumicolca, a great wall across the southern end of Cuzco’s Lucre Valley, is now recognized as a Wari aqueduct that carried water from one side of the valley to the other, delivering the vital liquid into Pikillacta.18 Centuries later the Inca turned the massive aqueduct into a gateway, sheathing the rupture in its center with megalith masonry—and surely promoting Inca appropriation of Wari’s ancient landscape (fig. 238; see also fig. 48). Agricultural terracing is even less documented than hydraulic facilities around Wari,

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but many hillsides that are now barren appear to have been terraced in the past. Banks of better-preserved terraces found farther from the ancient city are more securely dated to Wari times, although terraces are notoriously difficult to date conclusively. However, terracing of the colonized Sondondo Valley, which Katharina Schreiber studied, can be attributed to Wari with considerable security; the same is true in the Chicha-Soras Valley.19 Wari’s contribution to production appears to have gone beyond irrigation and terracing, for scarce but important evidence suggests that Wari farmers were skillful plant breeders. They modified their relative dependence on specific crops and improved plants and animals through artificial selection. Maize became the primary food of both the men and women living at Conchopata, a large Wari town in Ayacucho. This may be one of the first central Andean populations to have subsisted primarily on corn, at least in the southern highlands. Aside from its productivity, food value, and excellence for brewing into beer, corn weathers long-term storage very well.20 Meat consumed at Conchopata was almost exclusively from domesticated animals, hunting having declined as the regional landscape was intensively cultivated. Guinea pigs were consumed in abundance. Butchering grassfed camelids (llamas and alpacas) at a young age maximized meat quality and body weight, implying specialized selection of animals for food and long-distance transport of goods. While direct evidence for alpaca breeding is yet to be registered, a similar selection process for fiber production likely complemented the programs for other dedicated herds.21 Although precisely which agricultural and pastoral advances originated with Wari is not known, it is apparent that under Wari administration highland agropastoralism became more complex and productive. The resultant abundance promoted population growth and fostered the development of complex social and political systems. Social complexity, including occupational specialization and political ranking, permitted construction of public works and the development of sophisticated art and architecture.

Figure 239. The multilevel mausoleum in the Mon­ jachayoq sector of the Wari capital. Photo: Susan E. Bergh.

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Wealth and Hierarchy Prior to the Middle Horizon little evidence exists for significant differences in social status, wealth, or political power in the southern sierra. Indeed, Peru’s earliest excavated evidence for profound social inequality appears on the north coast, with spectacular burials at Kuntur Wasi.22 There, women and men were interred with numerous symbols of supreme wealth and power, including gold crowns. These burials are among several indications that hierarchical rulership appeared in northern Peru during the Initial Period (1800–1000 BC) and Early Horizon (1000 BC–AD 1). The subsequent north coast Moche intensified social hierarchy, demonstrated by the burial of astonishingly wealthy kings. Perhaps even more interesting are burials of intermediate elites who represent diverse new societal ranks as government and social life became increasingly complex.23 Elite tombs are not documented in the southern highlands of Peru before Wari and the Middle Horizon, although ceremonial architecture and luxury goods are known from Pucara, north of Lake Titicaca.24 Social stratification, as evidenced by disparities in the quantity and quality of burial goods, was present in both Paracas and Nasca societies.25 But these tombs are modest by comparison with the graves of great rulers on the north coast. However, Wari mortuary practices document profound new differentiation in social status, power, and wealth in the Ayacucho region.26 Evolution of socio-political complexity must have been rapid and transformational. Wari’s innovative mortuary rituals included many temporal and regional variations, but heartland graves from Conchopata and the Wari capital are sufficiently consistent to distinguish a series of types based on grave construction. Unfortunately, the number of unlooted graves is too small to develop a comprehensive classification based on grave furnishings, although these materials are useful for interpreting the formal tomb types. The types, all of which frequently contain several individuals, range from modest (excavated pits whose furnishings have not survived) to intermediate (pits lined and lidded with stone, a cavity within a rock wall, or a stone

chamber attached to a wall and sometimes accompanied by offerings) to elaborate (special rooms or spaces with well-prepared chambers that contained gold artifacts and other luxury goods). Three variants of elaborate tombs have been identified at Conchopata, and some have been interpreted as containing regional elites, probably local chiefs and provincial governors.27 Until very recently, none had been discovered intact by archaeologists. The most impressive type of Wari tomb is labeled “monumental” and examples occur only at the Wari capital. The smaller subtype consists of multilevel chamber tombs constructed partially of large, beautifully cut stones. None has been discovered intact, but they apparently contained numerous individuals and significant wealth. These dead were probably nobles of the Wari royal court. The larger monumental type, represented by one severely looted example,28 is an immense multistoried complex of megalithic chambers and galleries penetrating many meters below the ancient surface (fig. 239). A second, probably similar tomb complex can be recognized at Wari as well.29 Building these elaborate, finely crafted tombs required engineering, construction, and stone-cutting expertise, and the mobilization of a large workforce—a huge social investment. These great burial complexes surely contained the bodies of Wari’s highest rulers, accompanied by lavish offerings. Thus, Wari graves document an expansive hierarchy and imply the kind of social differences described as class structure. It seems inescapable that Wari’s political and social hierarchy provided at least something of a model for organizing inequality and power among the later Inca, an inference strengthened by the discovery of several elite Wari graves in the Cuzco region. Burial practices are not the only indication of social and political complexity at Wari and within its sphere of influence. Wari luxury arts are renowned for beauty and technical excellence. Personal items and adornments include carved wooden cups and containers, pyrite inlaid mirrors, and ornaments with mosaic decoration (see pp. 217–31, “Inlaid and Metal Ornaments”). Wari fancy ceramics are characterized by vividly colored, well­-

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Figure 240. Tapestrywoven tunic with “Inca key” motif; ca. 1400–1540; Inca; camelid fiber and cotton; 76.2 x 85.1 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of William R. Carlisle 1957.136.

executed polychrome painting, applied to both simply shaped and sculpturally complex vessels and objects.30 To judge from large deposits of ritually smashed ceramics found at Conchopata and other Wari centers, ornate highquality ceramics were manufactured in large quantities, probably in state-sponsored and state-supervised workshops (see pp. 122–43, “Archivists in Clay,” and pp. 145–57, “Shattered Ceramics and Offerings”). Such workshops imply the existence of designers trained in both iconographic content and stylistic conventions, specialized potters and painters, and quality control mechanisms. Display and use of fancy ceramics manufactured in these workshops advertised the wealth and authority of the individuals or officials who possessed them. The ostentatious destruction of such valuable ceramics as offerings at sites like Conchopata and Pacheco must have impressed all who witnessed it.

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Easily recognizable, Wari textiles are also technically refined and brilliantly colored. Many depict religious icons and geometric or simplified representational motifs.31 Even more than fine ceramics, their manufacture required tremendous quantities of highly skilled labor, provided by spinners, dyers, weavers, and designers, as well as a procurement system to supply the necessary camelid and cotton fiber. These visually distinctive garments must have been owned and worn by individuals of high social, political, or religious rank. Wari tapestry-woven tunics exhibit sufficient standardization in design and manufacture to have been interpreted as the products of state workshops perhaps made to clothe imperial officials (see pp. 159–91, “Tapestry-woven Tunics”). Paradoxically, while Wari tunics are immediately recognizable, they are not easy to appreciate fully, aesthetically or intellectually. Representational motifs are often abstracted and distorted to the point of illegibility, an effect exacerbated by complex color schemes and compositions. Both weavers and viewers may have required formal instruction to grasp the intricacies of textile aesthetics, a level of education likely available only to the elite. Rebecca Stone interprets small shape and color anomalies in Wari tapestry tunics as evidence of artistic agency on the part of weaving specialists, who must have exercised some individual autonomy while working within a carefully monitored production system.32 (See, for example, the single face in a tunic otherwise covered with stepped frets [fig. 148]). Stone believes the visual dynamism imparted by the anomalies was appreciated by viewers and added to the prestige of wearers. The state is likely to have regulated the production, ownership, and display of luxury ceramics and textiles, although the specific mechanisms are unclear. Similarly, the Inca used distinctive, finely made ceramics and textiles as visible indicators of prestige and rank within their society and their extensive empire. Ownership of tapestry-woven tunics comparable in quality to earlier Wari tunics (and also produced in state-controlled workshops) was tightly regulated (fig. 240). Although the tapestry technique connoted prestige in Andean societies

Figure 241. Tunic found in a cave burial with six individuals near Pulacayo in the Uyuni salt flats of the Bolivian altiplano; ca. 500–1000; Tiwanaku; camelid fiber. Museo de Arte Indígena, Sucre, Bolivia. Photo: Fernando Maldonado, Creaimagen, Santiago 2010.

for centuries, it seems likely that the Inca had direct knowledge of both Wari and Tiwanaku tapestry-woven tunics, based on technical similarities such as horizontal warp orientation, the use of very wide looms, and the choice of extremely fine, interlocked tapestry wefts (fig. 241).33 Indeed, some Wari garments could well have survived the centuries as heirlooms, and the Inca may have encountered burials that included tapestry-woven tunics in construction work in coastal settlements, or when burying their dead in ancient cemeteries. Interestingly, in their garments the Inca chose to employ the single fabric construction method more associated with Tiwanaku tunics, but they commonly used cotton warps, a trait associated with Wari weavings. It is difficult to know whether the Inca recognized the two earlier weaving traditions as distinct from one another, and whether they associated them with specific earlier peoples. But even if the Inca consciously imitated Wari use of

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emblematic ceramics, textiles, and other goods as symbols of social rank and political authority, they chose not to adopt the colorful Wari aesthetic. Inca textiles and ceramics are generally visually sober, with simple compositions and restrained color schemes. They incorporate little overtly religious subject matter, in contrast to Wari preferences, but frequently repeat a limited repertoire of geometric motifs. If these motifs encoded specific meanings, they were probably unknown to most people, as the information did not survive into the Spanish colonial period. The Inca also invented a distinctive assortment of new ceramic forms (including the aríbalo), rather than imitate Wari vessel shapes—aside from their distinctive drinking chalice, the kero, which was certainly influenced by similarly shaped Wari and Tiwanaku flagons used in official feasting and drinking ceremonies that promoted state interests (figs. 242, 243). During Inca times, the kero was a crucial symbol of

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Inca sovereignty partly because of its mythic associations with the past: it figured in Inca dynastic origin myths, in strategic gifts, and in many imperial ceremonies, including royal investiture.34

Figure 242. Kero; ca. 1400–1532; Inca; wood; 20.3 x 15.7 cm. Phoebe Hearst Museum, University of California, Berkeley, 4-5096.

Political Economy The Middle Horizon is marked by the construction of intrusive, architecturally distinctive structures and settlements in Ayacucho and throughout much of Peru (see pp. 65–81, “The Wari Built Environment”).35 These settlements appear to have been constructed by large, well-organized labor forces according to detailed, predetermined plans. Some are very large and complex, and seem to have been imposed on (rather than adapted to) local topography. Features such as high orthogonal walls, a limited number of entry points, and complex plans composed of repeated modular compounds suggest specialized functions. Such sites are often interpreted as administrative centers built and occupied by Wari state officials and allied local elites. Their construction required millions of person days of labor so the local residents must have been organized as a workforce. Investigation of facilities of this and other kinds confirms the

Figure 243 [27]. Cup with staff deity head and warrior (front and back); ceramic and slip; 11.7 x 9 cm. Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen, Eb15182.

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Wari administrative structure, but the nature and full scope of political activities is still the subject of interpretation and debate.36 The Inca likely recognized the intrusive character of Wari provincial architecture and could have interpreted it as an earlier state’s assertion of dominance, which may have inspired their own practice of building distinctive, easily recognizable structures within the foreign territories they controlled. In some regions the Inca built entirely new settlements, while in others they constructed new buildings within existing local cities. In either case Inca architecture is easily identified by traits such as cut-stone masonry and trapezoidal doors and niches. Such conspicuous constructions fulfilled practical economic, military, and administrative functions but also advertised Inca political and spiritual dominion over the local landscape and peoples.37 Inca constructions near the ruins of Wari and Tiwanaku may have been especially important in this regard, laying claim not only to land and contemporary inhabitants, but also to ancient prestige. How Wari’s political economy functioned is poorly understood, but considerable evidence has been presented for feasting at Con-

Figure 244. Aríbalo; ca. 1400–1532; Inca; ceramic and slip; 76.2 x 54.6 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Funds from the Burgess Trust, Walt Disney Imagineering, Alianza de las Artes Americanas, and Frederick and Jan Mayer, 1993.25. Photo: © Denver Art Museum.

to be learned about the range of ways in which the Wari employed feasting, there are suggestions that the Wari used a state installation in the San Miguel Valley to manage agricultural labor,41 and that Inca ceremonies, intended to “reciprocate” agricultural and other kinds of work by commoners, owed a great deal to this Wari legacy. The agricultural center at San Miguel was not unique within Wari’s hinterlands, which have not been intensively investigated. Wari may even have developed special state farms, another Inca institution, as suggested by the intensive occupation of the Sondondo Valley that included massive terracing, roads, administrative facilities, ritual complexes, and perhaps even monumental tombs.42 It was noted earlier that Wari’s agricultural innovations greatly increased the maize supply essential to brewing chicha (native corn beer). Copious supplies of chicha were central to Inca-sponsored feasting, another indication that Inca practice may have depended on Wari innovation. Tamara Bray and Anita Cook compare the forms and decorations of Wari and Inca jars and cups believed to have been used for serving chicha in such state-sponsored feasting.43 They note that Wari jars take the form of a human being (probably a state official) who sometimes wears a tunic (fig. 237; see also figs. 54, 198). Inca jars, or aríbalos, have a different and distinctively Inca form but are also fundamentally anthropomorphic in concept (fig. 244). Their painted decoration is not overtly religious but makes reference to Inca tunic designs. Bray and Cook’s analysis suggests that the Inca manipulated ceramic forms and meanings in ways conceptually similar to Wari practice in order to convey the power, wealth, and generosity of the state. However, they either rejected or were unaware of the Wari state’s more literal presentation of the same concepts. Cuzco, the Inca capital, had many palaces, and William Isbell44 has argued that one of the complexes excavated at Wari was, at least initially, a palace and not a temple as its excavators suggested.45 Furthermore, sites identified as Wari’s provincial administrative centers possess many features associating them with Andean palaces.46 Wari administrators were

Figure 245. Khipu; ca. 1400–1532; Inca; camelid fiber and cotton; 85 x 108 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of John Wise 1940.469.

chopata and other Wari settlements (see pp. 82–101, “The Art of Feasting”).38 Feasting was an important mechanism for affirming rank, establishing alliances, imposing debt, confirming inequality, and mobilizing labor in the ancient Andean world.39 Maurice Godelier argued that the Inca used feasting to convert an ancient Andean institution of reciprocity into an institution that provided labor to government by elites.40 Although much more needs

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Figure 246. Painted textile, from Chimú Capac; ca. 800–1000; cotton and pigment; 170 x 89.5 cm. Phoebe Hearst Museum, University of California, Berkeley, 4-7221.

apparently housed in splendor at strategic locations throughout the empire. Wari political organization may have included another feature profoundly associated with the Inca. Although writing was unknown in central Andean cultures, the Inca employed khipu, devices made of multicolored strings on which complex knots were tied to record information (fig. 245).47 Middle Horizon khipu are also known although they differ from Inca khipu in important respects (see fig. 180; also see [155], p. 276).48 A few have been found on the coast in association with Wari style ceramics and may be Wari. If so, they imply an accounting system that may have required trained specialists, as it did among the Inca. The small number of surviving Wari khipu suggests that they were not used in exactly the same way, or that the Wari state’s accounting needs were much more limited. Religion Some experts believe that Wari contributed significantly to later religions, especially the Inca pantheon of deities. What we know of Wari’s religion is primarily derived from the imagery represented on Wari ceramics, textiles, and other objects (see, for example, figs. 75a–f). This imagery is largely shared with Tiwanaku, where it was also carved on stone statues and architectural elements (see fig. 6a). Scholars believe this religious iconography originated in the Lake Titicaca region and farther south, and was adopted first by Tiwanaku

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and soon after by Wari. As discussed elsewhere in this volume, Wari art consistently represented four primary supernatural images: a staff deity, a rayed head (probably an avatar of the staff deity, or vice versa), staff-bearing attendants in profile, and sacrificers (see pp. 103–21, “The Coming of the Staff Deity”). One of the prominent features of the staff deity and rayed head are the head emanations, which intuitively suggest the sun. Indeed, Dorothy Menzel identified male and female variants of the staff deity and argued that they represent the Wari sun and moon deities, antecedents for the similar Inca pair.49 Dual male and female variants of the staff deity are not known for earlier Pucara or contemporary Tiwanaku religious art, so this pair appears to be a specifically Wari innovation. Some fine Wari tapestry-woven tunics depict musicians and elites engaged in ceremonies50 that in the Inca religion were carefully regulated by a complex calendar. Indeed, Tom Zuidema argues that the Inca calendar integrated a solar and lunar almanac, the former managed by men and the latter by women.51 Regular astronomical observations were made and information was stored on the knotted strings of khipu. The patterns of repetition on some Wari textiles imply the same solar/ lunar calendar of twelve months, centered on the December solstice.52 Architecture and sculpture at Tiwanaku imply similar solar and lunar organization as well.53 Menzel suggested that, in the era immediately after Wari’s decline, Wari’s religion influenced central coast peoples, who blended together Moche and Wari elements.54 Art from Chimú Capac depicts a so-called Sky God, a male shown in a frontal Wari posture with a Moche-style arc over his head, perhaps representing the sky (fig. 246). The arc terminates in a serpent head at each end. Rather than staffs in both hands, the Sky God typically holds implements such as a club, a knife, or even a shield. These tools provoked Menzel to suggest identification with the Inca Thunder God, depicted as a spectacularly dressed warrior with shield, twirling a sling. The crack of his sling created claps of thunder, and the flash of his gold garments produced lightning. Numerous filler elements complete the Sky God scene,

Figure 247. Panel with frontal figures and birds, from the north coast; ca. 1100–1400; camelid fiber and cotton; 76 x 23.7 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Denman Waldo Ross Collection, 10.267. Photo: © 2012 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

including stars, animals, and an occasional Wari-inspired profile attendant. Frontal figures, sometimes holding staffs, are common in the ceramics and textiles of later central and north coast cultures, including Chancay, Lambayeque, and Chimú (fig. 247), harking back (in at least a general way) to the earlier Wari staff deity or to Moche-Wari hybrid images. It seems clear that Wari religious beliefs were not adopted wholesale by these later cultures and did not displace the indigenous coastal religions. Instead, Wari beliefs and religious imagery were incorporated and adapted to local religious and artistic traditions. Some scholars believe that Pachacamac, an Andean creator god in Inca times, was a Wari deity brought to the coast by Ayacucho emigrants. The deity’s principal temple and oracle were located at the site of Pachacamac, near Lima. In the temple was a Janus-faced wooden sculpture carved in a Wari-influenced style.55 However, the association of Inca-period creator deities—who may represent a single creator god known by different names—with Wari origins may be more compelling. “Viracocha” was part of another name Andeans used to refer to a supreme creator, and Incaperiod temples dedicated to him are often found next to Wari archaeological sites, most famously the immense Viracocha temple at Raqchi, south of Cuzco. Significantly, recent excavations at Raqchi in a set of round buildings long thought to be Inca storehouses produced Middle Horizon radiocarbon dates

along with evidence that the circular structures were built by Wari settlers,56 corroborating an association of Viracocha (and probably creator gods under other names) with Wari and suggesting significant continuities between Wari and Inca use of ritual landscape in creator worship. Artistic Legacy Wari’s impact on later coastal art styles appears to have been limited. Late Middle Horizon coastal textiles, probably created after Wari declined, incorporate Wari motifs, including attendant figures and frontal, staff-bearing figures; these textiles have been found at sites such as Huaca Malena, Pacha­ camac, Chimú Capac (fig. 248), El Castillo, and Moche.57 While a few are executed in interlocked tapestry (the technique used in many Wari textiles), most employ local techniques such as slit tapestry or brocade. These textiles are generally less finely woven than their Wari prototypes and the imagery is less accurate and standardized. Nor did later coastal weavers make any real attempt to imitate Wari tunics. Local garments have different proportions and construction methods, and no local coastal textiles remotely approach the complexity and sophistication of Wari tapestry-woven tunics with regard to composition and color scheme. Simpler Wari products (four-cornered hats and corner-ornamented cloths) often incorporate multiple repetitions of small-scale motifs, with diagonally aligned

Figure 248. Tunic with Wari-derived figures, from Chimú Capac; ca. 800–1000; camelid fiber and cotton; 160 x 106.7 cm. Phoebe Hearst Museum, University of California, Berkeley, 4-7827.

26 0

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Figures 249a, 249b [159]. Mantle (view and details); cotton and camelid fiber; 177.8 x 177.8 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979, 1979.206.462. Image: © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY

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Annex

Burial platform N

100 meters

Figure 250. Plan of the Rivero ciudadela at Chan Chan, the Chimú capital. After McEwan 1990, 106; courtesy Michael Moseley.

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Audiencia Storerooms Walk-in-well

color repeats (figs. 249a, 249b; see also [158], p. 277). Such easily understood and imitated design principles may have inspired Chimú and Chancay textiles, especially tapestries. Many of them were probably woven in households, or perhaps in an assortment of loosely regulated workshops. The most sumptuous Chimú textiles were likely woven in palace workshops for high-ranking wearers. Detailed study of some garments has revealed complex encoded symbolism that likely derives from earlier north coast systems of representation.58 Sculptural coastal objects (ceramics, carved wood, metalwork) include rigid frontal human or deity figures, but their resemblance to Wari sculptures is very general. Multifigural compositions like those seen in Lambayeque and Chimú ceramics and metalwork, as well as Chancay woven “doll” scenes, surely derive from earlier coastal traditions. Wari sculptures usually portray a single figure, with information conveyed by pose and costume rather than through narrative. Gordon McEwan notes several formal similarities between Wari provincial centers such as Pikillacta and the ciudadelas of Chan Chan, the capital of the Chimú Empire (fig. 250).59 Shared characteristics include a rectangular shape (oriented roughly north-south) enclosed by extremely high walls. Both Wari and Chimú walls are characterized by construction sections that seem to correspond to the labor contributions of distinct social groups. There are few entrances, and passageways to interior spaces are long, narrow, and easily controlled. Compound interiors are divided into three large sectors, and expansion needs were accommodated by building external annexes rather than by enlarging the original perimeter walls. Chan Chan’s ciudadelas are usually interpreted as the palaces of Chimú kings, built successively to house the royal family and retainers, store and administer goods, and protect each king’s tomb with its associated wealth of burial offerings. McEwan believes that as the Chimú kingdom developed in size, wealth, and complexity, its leaders sought an architectural form associated with expansive, secular state power. Wari provincial centers became their model. McEwan notes that the

W illiam H . I sbell and M argaret Young - Sánchez

buildings within the ciudadelas are generally distinct in form from those within Wari provincial compounds. The exceptions are small conjoined rectangular rooms, present in all the ciudadelas and some of the Wari centers, and interpreted as storage rooms for the Chimú; the Wari function is still unclear. As mentioned above, Wari provincial centers could have inspired certain aspects of their Inca counterparts. But Wari architecture promotes a very different experience than Inca built environments. Wari architects virtually ignored the lay of the land, imposing orthogonal cellular grids as though the ground were flat.60 Inca engineers, however, tailored natural features into architectural grids as well as individual buildings. Inca centers, especially those located in dramatic landscapes, promote an experience of harmony between nature and culture.61 Conversely, Wari planned settlements promote a sense of cultural domination over nature through enclosure and imposed order. The Wari built fieldstone walls and covered them with shiny white plaster that must have overwhelmed the eye with its brilliance on sunny Andean days. The Inca manipulated the natural color and grain of stone, contrasting form and shadow with megalithic facades that sometimes employed deeply sunken joints.62 Yet, a few architectural forms may link Wari and Inca architecture. The Inca kallanka, a large roofed hall with multiple entrances and niches set into the interior walls, was used in religious or civic activities involving large gatherings of people. John Topic believes that the kallanka form may have been derived from earlier Wari niched halls at Pikillacta and Viracochapampa.63 Another Wari architectural form is the D-shaped structure or temple. Such structures were built both at the Wari capital and at provincial centers; excavation indicated that they were associated with ritual activities including both burial and sacrifice.64 Curved masonry walls in Inca architecture, such as Cuzco’s sun temple and the shrine at Kenko, are seemingly also associated with sacredness, but more evidence is necessary to establish a clear connection between the Wari D-shaped structures and Inca temples and shrines. Finally, the

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patio group, a basic unit of Wari residential space,65 may continue as the kancha in Inca town planning.66 Both are walled enclosures and square, rectangular, or trapezoidal in shape with a central patio fronted symmetrically on all, or at least several, sides by a large room, creating an apartment complex with an open common space at its center. Patio groups or kanchas could be placed side by side in a grid, filling an entire sector of a community. The two differed primarily in that Wari rooms are attached to the outer enclosure wall and run the entire length of the enclosure, while Inca rooms are short and freestanding, so corners of the kancha are vacant. Although Inca religious beliefs and calendrical knowledge may derive from those of Wari and Tiwanaku, there is a remarkable disparity in the prominence of religious imagery in their art styles. Religious imagery is ubiquitous in Wari and Tiwanaku ceramics, textiles, and sculpture, while explicit representation of deities is absent in Inca art. In Wari art the supernatural figures rarely interact or enact mythical episodes. Instead, the staff-bearing deities and attendant figures (or just their heads) are usually employed as icons or emblems that recalled religious concepts while identifying the objects on which they appeared with the Wari state. Symbols such as eight-pointed stars, “Inca keys” (fig. 240), and stepped diamonds similarly served as visual identifiers of Inca manufacture; some of them may have conveyed religious content as well, although they can no longer be “read.” Some Inca symbols and geometric elements may derive from Wari art. For example, the Wari and Tiwanaku used zigzag and concentric square motifs consistently to ornament several of the staff deity’s and profile attendants’ accessories—most prominently the staff itself, which the two Middle Horizon cultures, like the Inca, seem to have regarded as a primary symbol of authority (see figs. 1, 5, 6).67 In Inca art zigzags and concentric squares commonly decorate keros (fig. 242) and tapestrywoven tunics (fig. 240), both central imperial symbols. In a colonial drawing made in about 1615, the native author Joan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui used a concentric square to depict the cave from which the founders of

the Inca state were believed to have emerged; thus, the motif has been interpreted to mean “place of origin.” Susan Bergh and Anita Cook suggest that the Inca concentric square refers to both a place in the landscape and to the Wari and Tiwanaku, mythic ancestors whose symbols of ancestry the Inca perhaps appropriated and put to similar use. Cook also identifies a diamond-in-a-square motif in Wari tunics, both tapestry-woven and tie-dyed, that she believes continues as an important element in Inca art.68 Examples of the ubiquitous Inca motifs known as toqapu, such designs suggest that other, under-researched Middle Horizon geometric images may have supplied inspiration for the Inca visual vocabulary. Even if these elements hark back to the earlier Tiwa­ naku and Wari symbol systems, they have been thoroughly integrated into the distinctive Inca stylistic and symbolic language. The Inca may well have imitated Wari in the ways in which they manipulated art, architecture, and other aspects of material culture to legitimize state power, both in Wari’s Ayacucho homeland and among foreign peoples and territories. Wari in Cuzco Because Tiwanaku’s importance to the Inca is recorded in Spanish colonial documents, it was to Tiwanaku, not Wari, that researchers of the past looked to understand the origin of the Inca Empire, which had its capital in Cuzco, very near Pikillacta, a major Wari provincial installation. Now that Wari and Tiwanaku are recognized as separate cultures and independent polities it is time to consider the contribution of Wari. Several issues must be considered to identify Wari convincingly as a major, direct inspiration of the Inca. First, how much influence did Wari have in Cuzco, and what was its nature? Did Wari behave like an ideal empire, conquering, incorporating, and reorganizing the Cuzco region as a provincial territory composed of tribute payers and thus imposing a technology of empire that might be retained? Or was Wari’s influence minor, limited largely to display of symbols and participation in rituals? Second are the questions of time and the nature of memory. When did Wari collapse and how many centuries separate it from the

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foundation of the Inca Empire? Could actual institutions of Wari administration survive these centuries, or were continuities limited to myths, images, and ritualized visits to ruins and historic landscapes? Dorothy Menzel’s Wari chronology, written in 1964 and 1968, asserted the abandonment of the capital and the collapse of imperial power around 850. Excavations in Ayacucho now suggest that Wari ceramic styles in the heartland survived after 900, possibly as late as 1000 or 1050.69 This possibility takes a century or two off the hiatus between Wari and Inca, although the gap is still significant if we accept current inferences that the Inca were little more than a local chiefdom, engaged in farming and raiding, until at least 1350.70 A strong Wari imperial administrative presence is now implied in Cuzco, for Wari elites are newly documented in widely separated locations. The key discovery on which this inference is based is a Wari elite tomb at Espíritu Pampa, in the high jungles of the Vilcabamba, excavated by Cuzco archaeologist Javier Fonseca.71 The site is replete with Wari pottery, and the tomb itself conforms well to one of the elaborate Wari tomb types mentioned above,72 representing the highest status Wari elites buried outside the capital. This, the first elaborate Wari burial to be found intact by archaeologists, contained many luxury goods, especially silver artifacts along with several gold items. (One ornament recovered is very similar to that shown in Figure 219b.) However, it is not the only elaborate Wari burial in Cuzco. Julinho Zapata describes another, which was looted at the site Batan Urqo.73 Less well known examples at Marcaconga and Pomacanchi, farther south, were also looted.74 (Silver plumes from the Pomacanchi tomb appear in Figure 12.) To the west a Wari elite tomb was plundered at Curawasi in the Pampas River drainage. While information about looted tombs is incomplete and not entirely reliable, most likely the graves represent local chiefs who served as provincial Wari governors. They were buried in Wari style tombs with Wari style symbols of authority as well as some local-style ornaments. Another amazing new discovery, found beneath the surface of a corridor at Pikillacta, consists of miniature

W illiam H . I sbell and M argaret Young - Sánchez

Wari warrior figurines along with representations of supernatural beings, captives, and sacrificial victims (see figs. 225, 226).75 Taken together, these finds may indicate that the Wari depicted their occupation of Cuzco as a military invasion, which they followed up by establishing a formal administrative structure. These new data help clarify the relationship between Wari and the Cuzco region during the Middle Horizon. Furthermore, some ethnohistorians believe that memory of Wari in Cuzco was prominent enough to survive through the intervening centuries, influencing even oral accounts that Spanish invaders recorded in the sixteenth century. Inca oral history declared that a catalyst for the founding of the Inca Empire was a battle against the Chankas, a confederation of enemies from the neighboring region of Andahuaylas. This victory initiated the career of a young nobleman named Cusi Yupanqui (later known as Pachacuti), who led the defense of Cuzco, usurped the crown, and inaugurated the Inca’s irresistible military expansion. Celebrated Peruvian ethnohistorian Maria Rostworowski believes that the Chanka account is semi-historical, referencing the occupation of Cuzco by Wari, whose homeland also lies west of Cuzco, not far beyond Andahuaylas.76 Rostworowski goes on to suggest that the name Pachacuti came from the memory of ancient and prestigious Wari rulers. Juhua Hiltunen argues that one chronicler, Fernando de Montesinos, gives a list of royal dynasties that fills the gap between the last Wari kings and the earliest Inca, so perhaps conditions were sufficient for more or less direct continuity between the social and political institutions of the Wari and the Inca.77 Conversely, many scholars are reserved about accepting Montesinos’s claims. Be that as it may, a case can certainly be made for Wari rule of the Cuzco region, and for at least some historical memory and influence of these events among the Inca. Yet as noted above, Inca accounts of their origins and rise to power explicitly link them to Tiwa­ naku and Lake Titicaca, despite their greater geographic distance from Cuzco. The legends emphasize the Inca divine right to rule, linking them to the gods whose sacred place of

26 5

Wari ’s A ndean L egac y

origin was Lake Titicaca. Inca legends do not detail the political, religious, economic, and administrative strategies they used to consolidate and integrate their empire, and shed no light on whether the Inca invented these strategies, or inherited them from earlier polities. This silence likely reflects Inca cultural values and the lessons they chose to repeat: the Inca understood their greatness as a manifestation of divine origin and sanction, rather than a product of statecraft and administrative expertise inherited from an earlier empire, whether Wari or Tiwanaku. Wari: One of Many Important Players Wari seems best understood as a centralized state and empire that had many important influences on subsequent Andean cultures, including the Inca. Its cultural legacy is profound. Some of these influences have been discussed here, but many have been omitted for the sake of brevity. For example, it can be argued that the Wari Empire was responsible for spreading the Quechua languages spoken today in Peru78 although a great deal of research is required to fully evaluate the argument. Still other Wari influences likely remain to be discovered. Certainly Wari’s most important impact on subsequent Andean tradition (accomplished in conjunction with Tiwanaku) is the change it wrought on the axis of Andean power, resulting in the rise of the southern sierra. This transformation required major developments in agropastoral production as well as in the organization of people and politics. Andean demographics changed, as did the nature and complexity of government in southern highland Peru. The new political and economic core that emerged is a Wari legacy. Wari and Inca were, however, far from identical. How much the Inca owed to direct development from Wari is not apparent. Indeed, subsequent southern highland peoples neglected Wari’s representational imagery in ceramic decoration and fine textiles almost completely. Wari administrative and ceremonial architecture disappeared, although there seems to have been some continuity in sacred landscapes, sites of creator worship, and perhaps in building forms such as the Inca kancha and kallanka.

It is, however, clear that the Inca invented new institutions that differed from Wari’s. For example, Inca mortuary practices diverge in that they emphasized permanent preservation of the corpses of important leaders—individuals recognized as founders of descent groups. These Inca leaders, male and female, were mummified and their corpses participated in activities of the living. The dead maintained authority over their descendants, or panaca, controlling its resources, affirming critical decisions, and participating in public celebrations.79 There were no royal Inca tombs but rather revered royal ancestor mummies who traveled from their palaces to public plazas and temple celebrations in accord with their social agendas. Although elite Wari tombs contain the remains of individuals who would have founded kin groups in Inca society, they were securely sealed in graves that were not particularly good environments for preserving human bodies. Holes through grave roofs, plugged with stone stoppers, did provide for exchange between the living and the dead, so archaeologists should recognize some kind of Wari ancestor veneration. As noted above, relationships between the living and the dead formalized the incorporation of both peoples and places into the Wari realm, but ancestor mummies were not active, ongoing participants in Wari ceremonial life.80 Another unique institution that distinguished the Inca Empire is its fascinating tribute system, based on labor. When commoners paid their taxes by working for the state,

26 6

they were fed and supplied by the state; when they performed military service, the state clothed and armed them; when commoner women spun and wove for the state, they received camelid fiber from which to produce yarns and textiles. To supply and equip tribute payers, and to feast them at the end of their service, the Inca state constructed vast complexes of storehouses where quantities of goods produced for the state were deposited. Some archaeologists believe that rows of small Wari buildings were also storehouses and that the Wari political economy also depended on state-subsidized labor tribute. But excavations have not confirmed an emphasis on storehouses in Wari centers. Bill Sillar, Emily Dean, and Amelia Pérez Trujillo suggest that the rows of circular Wari buildings at Raqchi were dormitories for workers conscripted by the state; 81 if so, Wari taxation was more forced internment than Inca tribute. Future research will no doubt reveal more about Wari tribute, including the role of feasting. Wari and its institutions require and deserve intense archaeological investigation to elucidate the ways in which they reshaped central Andean cultural tradition and social evolution. But subsequent Andean peoples also made new inventions and innovative adaptations that departed from Wari antecedents. The Inca seem to have shared a great deal with Wari, but also created a great deal of their own culture. Central Andean culture was a complex process, in which Wari was an immensely important player, but one of many.

W illiam H . I sbell and M argaret Young - Sánchez

Notes

1. W. Isbell 2008; W. Isbell 2004a. 2. W. Isbell 2006. 3. Lechtman forthcoming; Lechtman and Frame 1985. 4. W. Isbell 2010. 5. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009; W. Isbell and Knobloch 2006. 6. Sutter 2011; Sutter 2009. 7. W. Isbell 2008. The authors of this essay disagree on how securely Wari can be identified as an empire. The view that the essay advances is William Isbell’s. Margaret YoungSánchez is more cautious, adding that the terms “king,” “royal,” and “empire” have strong associations with European political forms and do not necessarily apply to Andean antiquity. 8. T. Topic and J. Topic 2010a; see also J. Topic and T. Topic 2001; J. Topic 1994; J. Topic 1991; T. Topic 1991. 9. Anders et al. 1998; Knobloch 2005; Knobloch 1991; Knobloch 1989; Knobloch 1983; Knobloch 1976; Menzel 1977; Menzel 1964. 10. W. Isbell 1991; Menzel 1968; Menzel 1964; Schreiber 2001; Schreiber 1992. 11. Wari religious imagery belongs to a great tradition that was long associated with Tiwanaku but can now be identified as part of an even greater sphere of interaction and shared beliefs that encompassed the southern Andes. It has been proposed that this tradition be known as SAIS, the Southern Andean Iconographic Series (W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009). 12. W. Isbell and Knobloch 2009; W. Isbell and Knobloch 2006. 13. Lambayeque culture is also known as Sicán. 14. W. Isbell 2009. 15. Janusek 2008. 16. Pérez Calderón 2008; Pérez Calderón 2003; Pérez Calderón 2001. 17. For Pikillacta, see McEwan 2005c. For Cerro Baúl, see Williams 2003; Williams 2001. 18. Valencia Zegarra 2005. 19. For the Sondondo Valley, see Schreiber 1992; Schreiber 1991b. For the Chicha-Soras Valley, see Meddens and Branch 2010; Meddens 1991. 20. Finucane et al. 2006; Green and Whitehead 2006; Sayre and Whitehead 2003; Whitehead per-

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sonal communication. 21. Finucane et al. 2006; Rosenfeld 2006; Rosenfeld 2004. 22. Onuki 1997; Onuki and Inokuchi 2011. 23. Alva 2001; Alva and Donnan 1993; Billman 2010; Billman 2002; Castillo Butters and Uceda 2008; Castillo Butters et al. 2008a; Chapdelaine 2001; Donnan 2007; Donnan and Castillo Butters 1992; Uceda and Morales 2010. 24. Chávez 2004; Conklin 2004b; Young-Sánchez 2004b; YoungSánchez 2004c. 25. Proulx 2008; Silverman and Proulx 2002. 26. W. Isbell 2004a. 27. W. Isbell and Kopissari 2011; W. Isbell 2004a. 28. Pérez Calderón 1999. 29. W. Isbell et al. 1991. 30. Morris and von Hagen 1993, 109–23; Seville 2001. 31. Bergh 1999; Conklin 1996; A. Rowe 2005; Sawyer 1963. 32. Stone-Miller 1992b, 38–41. 33. Oakland 1986a; Oakland 1986b. 34. Cummins 2002. 35. W. Isbell 2006; W. Isbell 2004a; W. Isbell 1991; McEwan 2005c; Schreiber 1992. 36. Jennings 2010c. 37. Morris and von Hagen 1993, 177. 38. Cook and Benco 2001; Cook and Glowacki 2003; W. Isbell 1985. 39. Bray 2003a; Dietler 2001. 40. Godelier 1977a. 41. W. Isbell 1977b. 42. Schreiber 2005b; Schreiber 1992. 43. Bray and Cook 1997. 44. W. Isbell 2006; W. Isbell 2004a. 45. Bragayrac Dávila 1991; Gonzales Carré and Bragayrac Dávila 1986. 46. W. Isbell 2006; W. Isbell 2004a. 47. Urton 2008; Urton and Brezine 2011. 48. Conklin 1982; Urton and Brezine 2011, 321, fig. 13.1. 49. Menzel 1977. 50. A. Rowe 1979. 51. Zuidema 2011a; Zuidema 2010. 52. Zuidema 2011b; Zuidema 2009. 53. Benitez 2009; Zuidema 2009. 54. Menzel 1977. 55. Dulanto 1991; Franco Jordán 2004; Kaulicke 2001; Shimada 1991.

56. Sillar et al. forthcoming. 57. For Huaca Malena, see Angeles Falcón et al. forthcoming; for Pachacamac, see VanStan 1967; for Chimú Capac, see Menzel 1977, 114; for El Castillo, see Prümers 1990, vol. 2; for Moche, see Menzel 1977, 118. 58. Santiago 2005. 59. McEwan 1990. 60. W. Isbell 1992; W. Isbell and Vranich 2004. 61. Dean 2010; Gasparini and Margolies 1980; Niles 1992; Protzen 1999. 62. Like the Inca, the Tiwanaku were famous for precisely cut and fit megalithic stone architecture. However, Wari did employ cut-stone masonry, including megalithic polygonal architecture. Unfortunately, most of Wari’s spectacular stonework was quarried by the Spanish for millstones, church walls, and other colonial constructions. 63. J. Topic 1986. 64. Cook 2001a. 65. W. Isbell 1991. 66. Hyslop 1990, 10–21; Kendall 1985, 352; Kendall 1976, 92. 67. Bergh 1999, 119. 68. Cook 1996. 69. W. Isbell 2001; W. Isbell and Cook 2002. 70. J. Rowe 1946. 71. Fonseca et al. 2011. 72. Fonseca et al. 2011; W. Isbell 2004a. 73. Fonseca et al. 2011; Zapata 1997. 74. See Chávez 1985. 75. Arriola Tuni 2008; Arriola Tuni and Tesar 2011. 76. Rostworowski de Diez Canseco 1999, 35; Rostworowski de Diez Canseco 1997; see also Zuidema and Burga 1989. 77. Hiltunen 1999; see also Hiltunen and McEwan 2004; Montesinos [1644] 1882. 78. W. Isbell 2011. 79. W. Isbell 1997. 80. See McEwan 2005c, McEwan and Williams 1998, and this volume for a contrasting opinion. 81. Sillar et al. forthcoming.

Checklist of the Exhibition

NOTE TO THE READER

CERAMICS

The vast majority of works in this checklist date to the Middle Horizon (AD 600 to 1000) and belong to Wari or Wari-influenced styles, many certainly or probably from coastal regions and often described as “coastal Wari.” An asterisk (*), however, indicates works of confirmed or possible Middle Horizon date that do not necessarily belong to a Wari or Wari-influenced style. Objects have been organized in alphabetical order by medium. The object’s name is followed by its style (in parentheses, ceramics only) and any confirmed or reported provenience. Dimensions are given in centimeters, height x width x depth or height x diameter. Where known, radiocarbon dates are also given parenthetically (95 percent confidence interval). Dr. Patricia J. Knobloch provided advice about ceramic style attributions. For an updated checklist and errata, see www.ClevelandArt.org/Wari.

1. Bowl with bird-headed staff-bearing creature in profile (Conchopata style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 12.7 x 33.4 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-925. (Figure 105) 2. Fragment of a faceneck vessel (proto-Viñaque style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 43 x 39.5 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1778. (Figure 75c) 3. Fragment of a faceneck vessel (proto-Viñaque style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 44.5 x 48 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1779. (Figures 75a, 75b) 4. Fragment of a faceneck vessel (proto-Viñaque style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 53 x 48 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1784. (Figure 75d) 5. Urn fragments with warriors (Conchopata style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 40 x 85 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-1777. (Figure 103)

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26 8 checklist of the E xhibition

6. Urn with heads of mythical creatures (Conchopata style); Conchopata; ceramic and slip; 34 x 64 cm. Museo Histórico Regional “Hipólito Unanue,” Ayacucho, MHRA-834. (Figure 62)

12. Faceneck vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 45.6 x 30.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-63067. (Figure 134)

7. Camelid head vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 15.6 x 17.8 x 12.6 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-55032. (Figure 139)

13. Faceneck vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 50 x 35.3 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-64075. (Figure 135)

8. Camelid skull vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 17 x 22.8 x 11.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-55035. (Figure 140)

14. Faceneck vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 50 x 34.8 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-66969. (Figure 136)

9. Reclining camelid vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 17.5 x 24.8 x 80 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-55041. (Figure 138)

15. Urn with plants (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 56 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-54798. (Figure 130)

10. Standing camelid vessel (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 74.5 x 51.5 x 32 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-60592. (Figure 137)

16. Urn with staff deities (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; 83.5 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, S/C. (Figures 1, 5, 132)

11. Cup with supernatural head and plants (Robles Moqo style); Pacheco; ceramic and slip; about 59 x 55 cm. Museo de América, Madrid, 8.315bis. (Figure 133)

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17. Cup with axe-bearing supernatural being (Viñaque style); Tomb M-U1242, San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; 15 x 7.4 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C09. (Figure 30)

18. Head vessel (Viñaque style); Tomb M-U1242, San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; 16.1 x 9.2 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C06. (Figure 38)

27. Cup with staff deity head and warrior (Atarco or Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 11.7 x 9 cm. Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen, Eb15182. (Figure 243)

19. Lyre cup with supernatural head (Viñaque style); Tomb M-U1242, San José de Moro; ceramic and slip; 9.5 x 8.4 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1242-C08. (Figure 37)

28. Double-chambered vessel with human (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 14.9 x 9 x 20.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49699. (Figure 123)

20. Spoon; Tomb M-U1512, San José de Moro; ceramic; 9.8 x 3.5 x 1.8 cm. Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, M-U1512-C16. (Figure 208) 21. Bowl with mythical creature (Viñaque style); Wari Willka; ceramic and slip; 8 x 12.6 cm. Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima, 3001 0041. (Figure 108) 22. Vessel with ventral animal (Viñaque style); Wari Willka; ceramic and slip; about 14 x 6 cm. Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima, 3001 3453. (Figure 109) 23. Bowl with humpback animal (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 8.9 x 16.5 cm (rim). Michael C. Carlos Museum, Emory University, Atlanta, 1991.2.222. 24. Cup on serpent pedestal (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 14.6 x 7.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Gift of Olive Bigelow by exchange, 1996.37. (Figure 117) 25. Cup with staff deity (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 12.1 x 8 x 7.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19174. (Figure 122) 26. Cup with staff deity (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 12.4 x 7.9 x 8.2 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19167. (Figure 60)

29. Double-chambered vessel with human (Pachacamac style); Casa Grande, Chicama Valley; ceramic and slip; 13.7 x 15.4 cm. Museo Larco, Lima, ML031840. 30. Double-chambered vessel with human (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 12.5 x 7.7 x 21 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49703.

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31. Drum (Atarco style); ceramic, slip, cotton, and animal hide; 45 x 21 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 89-311 922. (Figure 114) 32. Bound figure vessel (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 18.5 x 12 x 15.2 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49645. 33. Cup-holding figure in tie-dyed tunic and four-cornered hat (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 19.3 x 19.5 cm. Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins,” MRI-00176-01. (Figure 59) 34. Female figure (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; H. 28.4 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8596. (Figure 92) 35. Figure in a litter (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 26.3 x 21.6 x 24.8 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund, 1997.1. (Figure 20)

269 checklist of the E xhibition

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36. Figure in tapestry-woven tunic and four-cornered hat (Viñaque style); ceramic and slip; 28.7 x 23 cm. Fundación Museo Amano, Lima, FMAC-000020. (Figure 146)

42. Faceneck vessel with felines (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 17.8 x 12.7 x 12.7 cm. I. Michael Kasser Collection, KP 246. (Figure 115)

37. Figure in tie-dyed tunic and four-cornered hat (Viñaque style); reportedly Anja, Mantaro Valley, Huancayo; ceramic and slip; 30 x 22 cm. Museum Rietberg, Zurich, RPB 320. (Figure 110)

43. Faceneck vessel with figure (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 17.8 x 11.4 x 11.4 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Henry L. Batterman Fund, 41.418. (Figure 237)

38. Two figural vessels (Viñaque style); ceramic and slip; 19.2 x 10.5 x 10.3 cm. Dallas Museum of Art, 1976.W.216, 1976.W.217. (Figure 120)

44. Faceneck vessel with mutilated nose (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 18.2 x 13.5 x 14.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49450. (Figure 61)

39. Warrior vessel (Viñaque style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 15 x 9.5 x 7 cm. LindenMuseum, Stuttgart, 119016. (Figure 118) 40. Vessel with litter group (Nievería style?); reportedly Wari Willka; ceramic and slip; 28 x 16 x 14 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund, 2011.36. (Figure 101) 41. Faceneck vessel with birds (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 18.4 x 14.5 x 14.3 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 49536. (Figure 67)

45. Faceneck vessel with mythical creatures (Atarco style); Corral Redondo, Churunga Valley; ceramic and slip; 83.5 x 86 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-64874. (Figure 198) 46. Faceneck vessel with tapestrywoven tunic (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 15.6 x 10 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-54760. (Figure 54)

47. Double-spouted fish vessels (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 11.4 x 5.9 x 17.2 cm, 11.7 x 6.2 x 17.4 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19128, VA 19129. (Figure 124) 48. Double-spouted sea creature vessel (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 17 x 7 x 17.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19127. (Figure 126)

58. Double-spouted vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”) (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 16 x 16.5 x 14.5 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas Jr., X86-3702. (Figure 107)

49. Double-spouted sea cucumber vessel (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 9.6 x 5 x 18 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19130. (Figure 125)

59. Double-spouted vessel with figure and birds (Wari Norteño style); ceramic and slip; 18.6 x 19.4 x 10.5 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Robert Kuhn, X71.417. (Figure 128)

50. Double-spouted snail vessel (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 12.9 x 15.1 x 10 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19149. (Figure 127)

60. Foot vessel (Robles Moqo style); ceramic and slip; 11.7 x 12.1 cm. Museo Larco, Lima, ML018890. (Figure 63)

51. Double-spouted feline-head vessel (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 18 x 16 x 13 cm. Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover, I/10456. (Figure 64) 52. Double-spouted head vessel (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 15.8 x 15.3 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-54789. (Figure 111) 53. Double-spouted skull vessel (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 14.5 x 17.8 x 12.6 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund, 1996.292. (Figure 113) 54. Head vessel (Robles Moqo style); ceramic and slip; 18 x 12 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, C-54786. (Figure 116) 55. Supernatural head vessel (Pachacamac or Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 17.6 x 17.1 x 14.7 cm. Milwaukee Public Museum, 54569/20517. (Overleaf, p. 63)

[63]

270 checklist of the E xhibition

57. Double-spouted bird-headed creature vessel (Wari Norteño style); ceramic and slip; 16.5 x 20.6 x 11.6 cm. Museo Larco, Lima, ML010864. (Figure 129)

56. Container with staff deity head and profile winged creatures (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 16.6 x 16.9 x 21.8 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Norman O. Stone and Ella A. Stone Memorial Fund, 1999.2. (Figure 14)

61. Vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”) (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 26.8 x 20.5 x 20.9 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 19059. (Figure 106) 62. Vessel with bird-headed creature (“Pachacamac griffin”) (Pachacamac style); Temple of Pachacamac (Painted or Polychrome Temple), Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 18.3 x 17.3 x 15 cm. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, Max Uhle, William Pepper Peruvian Expedition, Funded by Phoebe A. Hearst, 26709. (Figure 66) 63. Vessel with eight-limbed head (Pachacamac style); reportedly Pachacamac; ceramic and slip; 20 x 15 x 13 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, B/476. 64. Vessel with feline head (Atarco style); reportedly Ingenio, Nasca drainage; ceramic and slip; 20.3 x 11.4 x 6.4 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Arthur M. Bullowa Bequest and Rogers Fund, 1996, 1996.290. (Figure 91) 65. Vessel with head of mythical creature (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 24.1 x 16.5 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Gift of Olive Bigelow by exchange, 1996.36. (Figure 65)

[79]

[80]

66. Vessel with humpback animal (Viñaque style); ceramic and slip; 26.7 x 21.6 x 11.4 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Henry L. Batterman Fund, 41.420. (Figure 97)

72. Pendant figurine; wood, shell, turquoise, and gold; 3.3 x 1.5 x 1.1 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.437. (Figure 232)

67. Vessel with staff deity head (Pachacamac style); ceramic and slip; 21.4 x 16.6 x 11.2 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas Jr., X90.488. (Figure 16)

73. Mirror with staff deity head; wood, stone, and shell; 23.9 x 12 x 2 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.432. Cleveland only. (Figure 205)

68. Vessel with warrior (Atarco style); ceramic and slip; 31 x 39.4 cm. Museo Regional de Ica “Adolfo Bermúdez Jenkins,” MRI-00178-01. (Figure 119)

INLAY 69. Ear ornament; Temple of Pachacamac (Painted or Polychrome Temple), Pachacamac; wood and shell; 3.8 x 6 x 2.4 cm. University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, Max Uhle, William Pepper Peruvian Expedition, Funded by Phoebe A. Hearst, 26720. (Figure 203) 70. Ear ornament frontal with staff-bearing creature in profile; reportedly Pachacamac; shell and stone; 5.9 x 5.8 x 1 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 41596. (Figure 204) 71. Pair of ear ornament frontals with skulls; reportedly Pachacamac; shell and stone; 5.9 x 5.9 x 0.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 41595a, b. (Figure 201)

74. Ornament with figure; shell, stone, and metal (silver?); 6.6 x 3.6 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, In memory of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Humphreys, gift of their daughter Helen, 1944.291. (Figure 213) 75. Figure pendant; wood, shell, stone, and silver; 10.2 x 6.4 x 2.6 cm. Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, AP 2002.04. (Figure 211) 76. Pendant with figure; Spondylus shell, shell, stone, and metal; 13.3 x 11.4 x 5.1 cm. Fowler Museum at UCLA, Los Angeles, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert L. Lucas Jr., X88-255. (Figure 143) 77. Trumpet with figure; reportedly the Huacho-Pativilca region; Strombus shell, shell, and stone; H. 19.1 cm. The Dayton Art Institute, Museum Purchase, 1970.32. (Figure 212) 78. Spear-thrower thumb rest with bird; bone and stone; 8 x 4 cm. Roemer- und Pelizaeus-Museum, Hildesheim, V. 5522. (Figure 214)

271 checklist of the E xhibition

[92] 79. Spear-thrower thumb rest with feline; bone and stone; H. 7 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, NM 337.

87. Winged creature plaque; reportedly Pachacamac; gold; 13 x 15.8 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 28787. (Figure 221)

80. Spear-thrower thumb rest with human and camelid; bone; 7.9 x 55.4 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, MO-2853.

88. Plume; reportedly Pachacamac; gold; 21.8 x 4.6 x 0.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 31795. (Figure 216)

METAL 81. Pair of ear ornaments; silver and cotton; 9.5 (with shaft) x 8.6 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Bequest of Jane Costello Goldberg, from the Collection of Arnold I. Goldberg, 1986, 1987.394.580–81. (Figure 218) 82. Two pendant figurines; silver; 4.1 x 2.1 x 2.1 cm (each). Milwaukee Public Museum, 34596/9672 and 34597/9672. (Figure 231) 83. Mask-like ornament; reportedly Pachacamac; silver; 20.5 x 18 x 5 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, B/9450. (Figure 222) 84. Three ornaments; silver; 55 x 44 cm, 17 x 16 cm, 17 x 17 cm. Linden-Museum, Stuttgart, M31039. (Figure 219) 85. Bird plaque; gold; 13.7 x 14.6 cm. Private collection. (Figure 220) 86. Warrior plaque; silver; 25.7 x 19.7 x 2.5 cm. Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, Gift of Alfred C. Glassell Jr., 2001.117. (Figure 19)

89. Plume; reportedly Pachacamac; gold; 27.5 x 6.9 x 0.7 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 31797. (Figure 217) 90. Plume; Huaca Pucllana; silver; 28.9 x 15.3 cm. Museo de Sitio Huaca Pucllana, Lima, MSHP-97156 (ME). (Figure 215) 91. Three plumes with staff deity head; Pomacanchi; silvered copper; 34.8 x 10 cm, 40 x 13.8 cm, 36.6 x 12 cm. Princeton University Art Museum, Gift of Leonard H. Bernheim Jr., Class of 1959, 198227, 1982-29, 1982-28. (Figure 12)

STONE 92. Spear-thrower thumb rest with warrior; stone and pigment; 8.9 x 2.9 x 8.3 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of the Ernest Erickson Foundation, Inc. 86.224.30. 93. Figurine; greenstone; 4.7 x 2.5 x 2.2 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Funds Provided by Jan and Frederick R. Mayer, 1992.502.3. (Figure 227)

94. Figurine; greenstone; 3.5 x 1.9 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Collection of Frederick and Jan Mayer, 1994.45. (Figure 228) 95. Figurine; greenstone; 4 x 1.9 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, New World Department Acquisition Fund, 1997.15. (Figure 229) 96. Figurine; greenstone; 3.2 x 1.9 cm. Denver Art Museum Collection, Funds from the Alianza de las Artes Americanas, 1995.39.1. (Figure 230) 97. Figurine offering; Pikillacta; greenstone, Spondylus shells, and copper or copper alloy; H. 2 to 5.2 cm (figurines). Colección Juan Larrea, Museo de América, Madrid, 8.825-64 (figurines), 7.038 (rod). (Figures 223, 224)

TEXTILES Tapestry-woven 98. Panel; camelid fiber and cotton; 77 x 109.5 cm. Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, 931.11.1. (Figures 161, 251) 99. Panel; camelid fiber and cotton; 99.7 x 105.1 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Frank L. Babbott Fund, 53.147. Fort Worth only. 100. Miniature tunic with staffbearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 16 x 26 cm. Private collection. (Figure 167) 101. Miniature tunic with weapon?-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 22.1 x 31.8 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Alastair B. Martin, the Guennol Collection, 71.180. Cleveland and Fort Worth only. (Figure 166)

[99]

272 checklist of the E xhibition

102. Tunic fragment with staffbearing creatures in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 54 x 15 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 66028. (Figure 165) 103. Tunic fragments with birdheaded staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 90 x 53 cm, 89.4 x 53.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, 2005.53a, b. (Frontispiece, Figure 152) 104. Tunic with camelid- or deerheaded staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 103.7 x 108.5 cm. Deutsches Textilmuseum, Krefeld, 12299. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 153) 105. Tunic with camelid- or deerheaded staff-bearing creature in profile; reportedly Larcay, Yucanas Province, Department of Ayacucho; camelid fiber and cot-

ton; 100 x 92 cm. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Lima, RT-1650. (Figure 174) 106. Tunic with feline-headed staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 104.7 x 102.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1961.3.17. Fort Lauderdale and Fort Worth only. (Figure 155) 107. Tunic with staff-bearing creature in profile; camelid fiber and cotton; 97 x 144.9 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of the Ernest Erickson Foundation, Inc., 86.224.109. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 164) 108. Tunic fragment with figures; Ancón; camelid fiber and cotton; 118.5 x 103.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 7468 (16). (Figure 168)

[122] 109.* Weaver’s work basket and contents; Ancón; bone, camelid fiber, cotton, reeds, and wood; 20 x 26 x 18 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 5816a–t. (Figure 170) 110. “Sumptuous Mummy Pack,” pl. 17, The Necropolis of Ancón in Peru by Wilhelm Reiss and Alfons Stübel, 1880–87; color lithograph; 50.7 x 36.2 cm. Ingalls Library, The Cleveland Museum of Art. (Figure 169a) 111. “Sumptuous Mummy Pack,” pl. 16, The Necropolis of Ancón in Peru by Wilhelm Reiss and Alfons Stübel, 1880–87; color lithograph; 50 x 37 cm. Ingalls Library, The Cleveland Museum of Art. (Figure 169b)

112. “Sumptuous Mummy Pack,” pl. 10, The Necropolis of Ancón in Peru by Wilhelm Reiss and Alfons Stübel, 1880–87; color lithograph; 50 x 37.2 cm. Ingalls Library, The Cleveland Museum of Art. (Figure 169c, detail illustrated).

116. Tunic with sacrificer-related creature; camelid fiber and cotton; 100 x 112 cm. Museum der Kulturen, Basel, collected by Hans Theodor Cron (1921–1964), IVc23577. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 151)

119. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 108.6 x 109.7 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1941, 91.343. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 172)

113. Tunic with sacrificer; camelid fiber and cotton; 103.4 x 110.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1966.5.2. Cleveland and Fort Worth only. (Figure 157)

117. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 102.2 x 102.2 cm. Dallas Museum of Art, The Eugene and Margaret McDermott Art Fund, Inc., in honor of Carol Robbins’ 40th anniversary with the Dallas Museum of Art, 2004.55.McD. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 144)

120. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 110 x 110.5 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 64374. Fort Lauderdale and Fort Worth only. (Figure 55)

114. Tunic with sacrificer; camelid fiber and cotton; 106.7 x 112 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund, 2007.179. (Figure 150) 115. Tunic with sacrificer-related creature; camelid fiber and cotton; 105.4 x 114 cm. Pre-Columbian Collection, Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, Washington, DC, PC.B.496. Fort Worth only. (Figure 15)

273 checklist of the E xhibition

118. Tunic with face-fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 110.5 x 118.1 cm. Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, Mary B. Jackson Fund and Edgar J. Lownes Fund, 40.007. Fort Worth only. (Figure 10)

121. Tunic with paired fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 98 x 106 cm. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 57-20-245 (NM 245). Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 148) 122. Tunic with paired fret motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 102 x 98 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1941, 91.342. Fort Worth only.

[131] 123. Tunic with face-fret and interlocked U-shaped motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 106 x 94 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8604. Fort Worth only. (Figure 149) 124. Tunic with stepped-cross and interlocked U-shaped motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 96.5 x 110.45 cm. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, M70.3.1. Cleveland only. (Figure 52) 125. Tunic; camelid fiber and cotton; 55 x 53.7 cm. Private Collection. (Figure 159) 126. Tunic; camelid fiber and cotton; 100 x 106 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Exchange, 1962.5.1. Fort Lauderdale and Fort Worth only. (Figure 160)

127. Tunic with skulls; camelid fiber and cotton; 220 x 115 cm. Museo de Arte de Lima Collection, Prado Family Bequest, IV-2.1-1241. Conserved with the support of the Southern Peru Copper Corporation 2001. (Figure 162) 128. Tunic with heads, insects, and heart-lung-trachea motif; camelid fiber and cotton; 101.6 x 105.4 cm. Private collection. (Figure 81) 129. Bag; camelid fiber and cotton; 18.7 x 16.5 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1959.10.1. Cleveland only. (Overleaf, p. 29) 130. Headband; reportedly Coyungo, Rio Grande Valley; camelid fiber and cotton; 67 x 12 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Museum Purchase, 1965.32.1. (Figure 145)

[141]

274 checklist of the E xhibition

131. Headband; camelid fiber and cotton; 77.5 (including ties) x 10.2 cm. Private collection. 132. Glove (Moche-Wari style); camelid fiber and cotton; 28.6 x 22.1 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Charles Stewart Smith Memorial Fund and Museum Collection Fund, 58.204. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 171)

Tie-dyed 133. Tunic; camelid fiber; 182 x 112.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Arthur M. Bullowa, 1980, 1980.564.2. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 17)

134. Tunic; camelid fiber; 86.5 x 122 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1941, 91.341. Cleveland and Fort Worth only. (Figure 181) 135. Tunic; camelid fiber; 112.4 x 182.3 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, acquired by George Hewitt Myers in 1931, 91.90. (Figure 186) 136. Tunic; reportedly Chilca; camelid fiber; 87 x 124.8 cm. The Textile Museum, Washington, DC, Gift of Leo Drimmer-Lichtemberg, 1965.40.43. Fort Worth only. (Figure 191)

[146]

[149]

[150] Feathered 137. Four-cornered hat; feathers, cotton, and reed; 17 x 14 x 14 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, A. Augustus Healy Fund, 41.228. Cleveland and Fort Worth only. (Figure 194) 138. Ornaments; feathers and cotton; 8 x 6.5 cm (each). Princeton University Art Museum, Anonymous gift 1996, 1996-228.1, 1996-228.2, 1996-228.4, 1996-228.5. (Figure 195) 139. Panel, probably a hanging; probably Corral Redondo, Churunga Valley; feathers, cotton, and camelid fiber; 63.5 x 208.9 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979, 1979.206.471. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 197) 140. Panel, probably a hanging; probably Corral Redondo, Churunga Valley; feathers, cotton, and camelid fiber; 68.6 x 211.5 x 2.2 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979, 1979.206.904. Fort Worth only. (Not illustrated)

275 checklist of the E xhibition

141. Panel, probably a hanging; Corral Redondo, Churunga Valley; feathers, cotton, and camelid fiber; 81.3 x 223.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Andrew R. and Martha Holden Jennings Fund, 2002.93. 142.* Tabard (radiocarbon date, cal. AD 780–985); feathers and cotton; 143.5 x 132 cm. Private collection. (Figure 196) 143. Plate 147, Ancient Peruvian Art by Arthur Baessler, 1902–3; color collotype; 50.8 x 37.4 cm. Ingalls Library, The Cleveland Museum of Art. (Not illustrated)

Other Textiles and Fiber Objects 144. Four-cornered hat with geometric motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 12.4 x 17.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of Arthur M. Bullowa, 1983, 1983.497.6. Fort Worth only. (Figure 147) 145. Four-cornered hat with geometric motifs; camelid fiber and cotton; 13 x 18 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of George D. Pratt, 1933, 33.149.101. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 53)

146. Four-cornered hat with heads of mythical creature; camelid fiber; 11.4 x 16.5 x 15.3 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Gift of John Wise, 1947.291. Cleveland and Fort Worth only. 147. Four-cornered hat with mythical creature; camelid fiber; 14 x 12 cm; Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich, 57-20-223 (NM 223). Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. (Figure 11) 148. Four-cornered hat with winged creature; camelid fiber; 14.3 x 15 x 15.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Purchase from the J. H. Wade Fund, 1945.378. (Overleaf, p. 249) 149. Headband; camelid fiber and cotton; 9 x 15 x 15 cm. Ethnologisches Museum, Berlin, VA 65529. 150. Headband; camelid fiber and cotton; 49 x 8.5 cm. Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge. 42-12-30/3519. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only.

[151]

[152] 151.* Headband; camelid fiber and cotton; 102.9 cm. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco, The Caroline and H. McCoy Jones Collection, Gift of Caroline McCoyJones, 2000.17.5. Cleveland only. 152.* Headband; camelid fiber and cotton; 114.1 x.7 cm. Museo de América, Madrid, 2002-5-218. Fort Lauderdale and Fort Worth only. 153.* Cap with braids (Middle Horizon or later, Wari-related culture?); cotton, camelid fiber, and human hair; L. 60 cm (cap, 15 cm; braids, 45 cm). Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Mary Woodman Fund, 31.497. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only.

154.* Cap with braids (Middle Horizon or later, Wari-related culture?); cotton, camelid fiber, human hair, and bast fiber; 91 x 22.2 x 6.4 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Henry L. Batterman Fund, 41.427. Fort Worth only. 155.* Khipu (radiocarbon date, cal. AD 690–900); cotton and camelid fiber; 35 x 17 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/7679. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only. 156.* Khipu (radiocarbon date, AD 719–981); cotton; L. 190 cm (primary cord), 36 cm (longest secondary cord). Private collection. (Figure 180)

[153]

[155]

276 checklist of the E xhibition

[154]

[158]

157. Bag with human face; alpaca or llama hide, human hair, pigment, cotton, and coca leaf contents; H. 26 cm (bag), L. 64.7 cm (strap). The Cleveland Museum of Art, Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund, 2011.35. (Figure 18)

277 checklist of the E xhibition

158. Mantle; cotton and camelid fiber; 156.2 x 155.6 cm. Los Angeles County Museum of Art, M.78.54.7. Cleveland and Fort Lauderdale only.

159. Mantle; cotton and camelid fiber; 177.8 x 177.8 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller Memorial Collection, Bequest of Nelson A. Rockefeller, 1979, 1979.206.462. Fort Worth only. (Figure 249)

[160]

[161]

160.* Helmet; camelid fiber and wool?; 24.2 x 25.5 x 20.5 cm. Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen, Eb15032. 161.* Pair of shin guards; camelid fiber, fur, and wool?; 26 x 11 cm. Museum zu Allerheiligen, Schaffhausen, Eb15984. 162.* Sling (Middle Horizon or later); camelid fiber; 6.4 x 2.5 x 251.5 cm. Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of Ernest Erickson, 70.177.62.

WOOD 163. Animal container; wood, shell, and stone; H. 4.4 cm. American Museum of Natural History, New York, 41.2/8599. (Figure 236) 164. Sacrificer container (radiocarbon date, cal. AD 769–887); wood and cinnabar; 10.8 x 7 x 7.5 cm. The Cleveland Museum of Art, John L. Severance Fund, 2007.193.a–b. (Figure 233)

Memorial Collection, Purchase, Nelson A. Rockefeller Gift, 1968, 1978.412.214. (Figure 13) 166. Mirror with sacrificer; wood and pigment; 28.6 x 15.9 x 1.9 cm. Private collection. (Figure 206) 167.* Mummy bundle head; Huaca Pucllana; wood, shell, and copper or copper alloy; 19 x 16 cm. Museo de Sitio Huaca Pucllana, Lima, MSHP-09-466 (V).

165. Cup with staff-bearing creatures in profile; reportedly Cahuachi or the Huacho-Pativilca region; wood; 11.4 x 6.4 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, The Michael C. Rockefeller

[162]

278 checklist of the E xhibition

[167]

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Figure 251 (detail of fig. 161). Panel; camelid fiber and cotton; 77 x 109.5 cm. Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto, 931.11.1.

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